A/N: I apologize for the longest wait in the history of waiting. I had lost my muse for a while. It's hard to get into just a dark mindset at times without losing yourself in the process. However, I have my use back and so here it an update. Things may be a tad confusing for a while, there's an in fact reasoning behind the madness, just bear with me for the bumpy ride. You can always pm me if you need clarification. Without further ado, here's chapter four.

It was an ordinary day for the people of New York, the sun was shining and the sky was a shimmering blue. People walked back and forth to work, hailing cabs and chatting with friends. It was a very ordinary typical day for most, but not for the Stark-Rogers family.

No, for the family of four it was a dark and depressing day like every day for the past months.

"Pop, he's just been sitting there staring out the window. He's hardly moved since he's been back. I'm…scared." Peter gently whispered to his father trying his hardest to hold in his emotions along with not trying to upset his other father. They hadn't seen an actual reaction from him in weeks, everyone walking eggshells around the traumatized man in fear of upsetting him, but no one was sure when the right time to say enough was. "I know son, I know." Steve let out a shaky breath as he took a glance over at his husbands shell. He refuses to believe that the person sitting in the chair facing the large window to New York is the man he married.

With a soft kiss to the forehead, Steve lowered himself to Peter's line of vision and mustered up a cheerful smile. "Hey, how about you and Peggy go stay with your aunt Pepper and Uncle Happy for a bit? Give your dad and I some time to figure things out." He knew the kids wouldn't want to leave with Tony being in the condition he's in, they were worried about losing him again, heck he was too, but he couldn't have them around him when he looks like he does. Peter being a smart kid understood the hiding meaning without questioning it and nodded before heading to pack his and Peggy's things.

Once Peter was out of his room, Steve started to pick-up the living room stealing glances at the disheveled genius still wondering what happened while Tony was kidnapped. It was a mystery to everyone. S.H.I.E.L.D. and everyone else was dying to know what happened while he was captivated but Tony never spoke a word. He just sobbed into Steve's arms and refused to further comment, demanding to be taken home.

Steve made his way over to Tony with calm and calculated steps, ready for anything to be thrown at him physically and metaphorically. "Tony, hey baby." He let his words linger a bit hoping to catch a reaction from Tony but there was nothing. With a heavy sigh, Steve gently placed his hands on the genius's knees making eye level contact with him. "What do you say we get you into the bath? It'll probably make you feel a little better." his voice smooth and coaxing.

Like he predicted, there was no response except for an unintelligible grunt.

When they made it to the bathroom, Steve carrying Tony most of the way, Tony was slowly becoming more lively standing up on his own as Steve started to take off Tony's clothes. He slipped off the sweater that Tony had uncharacteristically grown fond off. He hardly took it off except for showers. Steve was about to pull up the shirt that Tony was wearing when the shorter man smacked his hands away and backed up.

"I can do it myself! Jesus fucking Christ, Steve." he yelled as his nostrils flared and his hands shake violently.

Steve was taken back and didn't say anything but take a huge swallow of air and nod solemnly before turning around walking out of the bathroom. He tried to hold in the sob that was threatening to escape but he wanted to keep his composure, but he lost it all when he could hear things crashing around in the bathroom.

It was the same routine they go through every day since he's back.

Tony would lash out about Steve helping, Steve would retreat to their room where he'd discreetly cry to himself as Tony stood in the shower of a hot water crying to himself, the memories of captivity infiltrating his mind and he can't escape them. He hated being a burdened to everyone, but he didn't know how to fix himself.

When the shower was done and the water was way past freezing Tony would snap out of his self-hatred long enough to get out and go to their bedroom to change into something else. Each time finding Steve sitting at the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands and body shaking of unshed sobs. Tony longed to reach out to Steve and hold him, to promise he'd change and get better, but he knew it would be a lie so he sighed and changed clothes making his way back to the chair that he took comfort in. It reminded of the comforting times when they tortured him laying down or evens standing up and he found solace in the chair they locked him too. How sick was that? To find solace in a chair, it disgusted Tony, but he desperately needed that feeling no matter the circumstances.

Steve would listen to the movement of Tony getting dressed, waiting for a sound of distress, but always coming up empty handed. Instead he would be granted the sound the retreating steps of his lover as they headed back to the chair. Steve chuckled bitterly to himself as he picked up the nearest object from him and threw it against the wall. His emotions were swirling jealous of a chair, rage for the ones who did this and utter sadness that he had to sit back and watch Tony waste away because he didn't know how to help.

When the immediate rush of emotions faded to a dull ache he sunk to his knees with grief struggling to stay afloat as he desperately kept trying to rescue Tony from his own darkness.