"You're not my nightmare, Wanda," Tony said, sounding grave-tired. He'd met his nightmare. Whatever anxiety he had there, whatever dread he was holding in his heart were laid to rest. Everything he feared was both bigger and smaller than he'd imagined.

He rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his wrist.

"I'm not afraid of you."

Though he had been.

"I used to think that I could do more than just bust a bunch of terrorists. That I just kept putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. But now I wonder if that's not the realest good I ever did, everything up until New York."