"Are you giving up?" Steve asked, his voice hard. "You’ve stopped the search?"
Two months had passed since Tony’s disappearance, and for the whole of those sixty days, Steve had barely slept or ate, the unbearable pain of not knowing where his husband was strangling him; he wouldn’t give up, though—not if physically impossible—because he loved him too much to even think of stopping.
"We haven’t stopped," Fury said. "But we need to continue with other duties."
"That are more important than Tony?"
Fury didn’t answer that, and instead only sighed, “I’m sorry, Solider. There’s nothing more we can do.”
Watching as he left the room, Steve felt everything just collapse, choking on his breaths, and his chest clenching uncomfortably. He’d keep looking, with no one to stop him, but right in that moment—for a split second—the small glimmer of hope was lost.