"What the hell do you think you're doing, Estélla? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Backstage was perhaps even more chaotic once the show had ended than it was before it started. Girls were running around in their robes with excited height on their tiptoes, eager to share their excitement and happiness with Estélla after witnessing a fairly tale in real life.

She was showered in love and congratulations, endless empathy from the other models who had been reduced to tears watching the couple reunite. It was perhaps the most heartwarming, genuine and soulful moment any of them had ever seen, and to see Esté smile, a real smile, was rewarding for all of her friends and colleagues.

Estélla killed the rest of her walks, just like Tony told her to. She'd always had the ability to hold herself together and to fake it in situations where she couldn't be authentic, but looking into his dark eyes had given her the newest lease of life that she so desperately needed right then.

The entourage of girls surrounding Esté's vanity with giggles and warm hugs disbanded once the director stormed over towards them, her loud voice cutting through their joyful conversations and casting silence down on them all, snatching the happiness from the air with sharp claws.

"Excuse me?" Esté raised a brow when a path formed for the director to walk down, standing in front of her as she stayed sat on her chair with one leg crossed over the other, a bottle of water in her hands.

"Would you call that professional, Miss Goldwyn? By your standards?"

Elsa Macauley had directed an endless list of shows, many of which Estélla had had the pleasure of walking in. The pair had never had any run ins in the past, in fact, Esté never really had any problems with anybody she worked with. She was always shined with gratitude from her colleagues which only added to her glimmering reputation, but something told her that Elsa wouldn't be singing her praises to the press that evening.

"Is there a problem, Elsa? That was one of the best shows we've ever done, all of us."

Estélla wasn't wrong, it had been a flawless show and despite the handful of stolen moments she took for herself at the mercy of her broken heart being pieced back together, everything had been perfect.

"Yes, there is a problem," she scoffed, pulling her glasses from her face as she looked up at the supermodel who stared down at her from her chair, "What happened to following orders, doing what you're told, what you're meant to do? You pride yourself on your professionalism, don't you? What would you call that little fiasco with him?"

Estélla just stared at her, almost laughing with the rage that took over her body in that moment. The polite smile disappeared from her face and any notion to remain gentle and warm vanished, overcome with fury and anger that was represented by the cold look on her face and behind her eyes, something people never saw in her.

"He has a name."

Elsa scoffed, "You think I care? You ruined my show, he ruined my show. Tony fucking Stark ruined-"

Estélla stepped down from her chair and folded her arms, standing with narrowed eyes that pierced down into Elsa's heartless soul. She'd never been an aggressive or violent person and had always been void of a desire for confrontation, but the mentioning of Tony in such a derogatory way sparked something inside of Estélla that she wasn't willing to put out or shake off, tired of being peaceful when she didn't want to be.

"I thought he was dead. I was willing to walk this show today after finding out that he was gone, and I did. I walked down that runway the first time thinking that the man I loved was dead after not hearing from him for over two months. I pulled myself together and I did it, is that professional enough for you, Elsa?"

The smaller woman swallowed, nervousness clear in the speed of her fluttering blinks and forced sighs of dissatisfaction, "That's what I expect from you. But what you did in the middle of the show was far from it, you should know better."

Esté laughed then, shaking her head once with a vengeful smile on her lips, a heat in her cheeks and fire in her icy blue eyes, "I don't care."

"And I don't care about him," Elsa argued, pulling back with widened eyes, "I don't care that he's a superhero, if he's dead or alive or-"

"Let me stop you right there," Estélla interrupted, raising a single finger and holding it in front of Elsa's face, "I'm gonna need you to stop talking about Tony right now. You might not care, but whatever he did in those two months away from this Earth, it saved your damn life. Maybe think about being a little more grateful."

Elsa just scoffed, snarling as she looked Estélla up and down before turning her back and pushing her way back through the group of girls with a sour taste on the end of her tongue, something that might've been defeat.

Esté sighed and sank back down into her chair, feeling the rage simmer down ever so slightly despite her fingertips burning as she clenched her hands, knuckles turning white as she took a deep breath.

"I'm never working for her again," one of the girls mumbled, shaking her head as she offered Esté a smile.

"Me neither, I can't believe she reacted like that. I'm so sorry, Esté." Another girl said.

There was an ensemble of similar comments that followed from the other models, all of them standing in solidarity with Esté and giving her tight hugs to go along with their reassuring words, letting her know that her moment of pure vulnerability hadn't gone unnoticed, but in fact, had been admired.

It was comforting for Esté to hear. She'd never once shared any kind of emotion that wasn't manufactured or scripted, and so to shed tears and fall to her knees with the whole world watching had been the most difficult yet freeing thing she'd ever done, and Estélla didn't regret it for a single second.

The relief she felt when she touched Tony's face was the most magical thing that she'd ever experienced. It was electrifying, euphoric, like how she imagined holding a shooting star would feel. Estélla didn't care about the cameras or about her reputation when she saw his face in the crowd, all she cared about was that he was alive, and that he had come home to her.

"He'll be waiting for you," Alicia grinned and handed Esté a folded up pile of clothes.

"Bucky and Steve?" She asked as the other girls slowly started to get changed and gather their belongings.

"They're here too, they were sat right behind Tony where Katy was. Everyone is back safe."

Estélla hadn't noticed Katy or Bucky or Steve in the crowd, not even on her first walk when Tony's seat was still empty. The whole thing had felt like some kind of fever dream and even though she'd now kissed the lips of her other half again and had held his face in her hands, part of Esté was still not convinced that it was all real.

She changed into the white tracksuit and slipped on a pair of sneakers, running a brush through her hair and grabbing her bag before saying a general goodbye to the girls still hanging backstage. All of them cheered for her and blew kisses, shouting their love for her at the top of their lungs as they waved goodbye, giving Esté a lasting feeling of love from the show despite Elsa doing her best to drown it in spite.

She peered into the vacant dressing rooms on her way down the long corridor, all of them being occupied by boyfriends, husbands and family and friends that didn't live in her heart.

Esté continued to walk with her bag tight in her grip, starting to get anxious the more rooms she passed that she didn't see Tony in, beginning to fall into a false sense of reality once again with questions of her own memories making her heart beat sickeningly faster.

The corridor seemed to be getting shorter and the number of doors ahead of her got less and less, Estélla's smile falling into a frown when she reached the last room, only a group of security guards standing between her and the exit to the building where the paparazzi were waiting to snap pictures of the models as they left.

With a hopeful sigh, Esté swallowed and pushed down on the handle to the last room, peering her head around the door with furrowed brows and a tight sensation in her chest.

Tony's head snapped up from the floor when he heard the door open. He'd been sat on that leather couch with his leg bouncing anxiously, hands clasped together ever since the show ended, listening to the seconds tick by on the clock on the wall as the rooms around him came alive with voices and celebration, the bouquet of Juliet Roses sitting idly on the table in front of him.

The sight of Estélla took his breath away. She dropped her duffel bag onto the floor and her eyes widened, filling with tears at the sight of him and the way he shot across the room without wasting a single second, grabbing the girl and picking her up from the ground, spinning her around while she buried her face into the crook of his neck, fingers curling around the ends of his hair.

Tony couldn't recall the length of time he'd longed for that moment; perhaps it had been his whole life. He'd dreamt to feel Esté's waist in his hands, to smell the scent of her hair and her perfume, the softness of her skin and the sound of her breathing. Her body felt like home to him, she made him feel safe and while he'd been hurtling through space and time, Tony had thought of nothing but her, of his home.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered, the door falling closed behind them as he eventually placed her back down on the ground, arms around her still, "I'm so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, please just let me explain. I know I said I'd come back for you and I-"

"Please shut up," Estélla said with a sad smile, holding his face in her hands and shaking her head while a gentle laugh came from her lips.

She kept them parted as if to speak again, words teetering on the edge of her tongue though ultimately, Esté lost all ability to speak as she looked into his whiskey eyes, forgetting anything and everything that had been plaguing her brain and falling into a mindless, serene state of consciousness where besides the man in front of her, nothing else existed.

Tony swallowed thickly as he held her gaze, one hand wrapped around her waist holding their bodies together and the other tracing strokes across the back of her neck, running gently through her hair.

He was beyond proud of Esté that afternoon, in awe of her strength and dedication, willingness to carry on even in such a dark and heavy time. It had hurt him to see her for the first time without that sparkle in her eyes and the tiredness on her face, and while Tony felt that weight in his own body too, he had a desperate urge to take care of her rather than himself.

"You're not mad at me?" He said softly, nervousness in his tone.

"I'm furious with you," Esté shrugged her shoulders with a small laugh, "But it doesn't matter, not anymore. I can breathe now, now you're back here where you belong."

He breathed a small sigh of relief, one that had been held inside for so long while he thought about the wrath he might be faced with for leaving her, for heading out on what could've been a deadly mission all by himself. It was ridiculous in hindsight and there had been many moments where Tony had regretted his decision to fight alone, but somehow, it had all worked out in the end.

"I'm never going anywhere again, I swear. I'm not leaving you for another second."

Esté smiled small at Tony's gentle words, melting with a redness in her cheeks as his eyes traced her face and lingered on her lips, staring for a few moments before stealing a quick kiss that turned his cheeks pink too.

"Can we go home?" She said.

"Yeah," Tony nodded, taking hold of her hands and lacing their fingers together at their sides, "Let's go home, Stella."