Author's Note: *Sharpens the Killing Knife aggressively*

Thank you guys for your support! :) You're all amazing! Announcement at the end, but please enjoy the final chapter to Withering Away. ;)

Warnings: Some violence, description of blood, assumed character death.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

"This is the start of how it all ends,

They use to shout my name now they whisper it,"

-Lorde "Yellow Flicker Beat"

Chapter Ten:

Tony wakes to Nebula dragging him out of rubble with at least six different broken bones and bruises the size of small states across his body. He hadn't done much more than groan hopelessly with confusion before she settled him on the ground and said something, then moved on.

A few minutes later, hazily, he can remember Nebula returning with someone else, Bruce he thinks, and kneeling down beside Rocket to gently squeeze his paw before leaving again. The raccoon watches her go with a distant, but clearly relieved expression.

Later, once he's gained a little more consciousness and awareness to realize he's laying beside the other members of his team save Thor, he quickly jerks upwards to assess their well being. He hadn't been there to make sure the time-watches were working, because Not-Nebula had attacked, and then there was that whole disaster and—

Steve is fine, talking to Clint and gathering what weapons they (almost none, pathetically) have and—oh, yep, army in the distance, cool—and Rhodey has a headache, and Scott looks a little jumpy, but Bruce...

Has no pulse.

No breath.

His face is pale, and an awful gasping noise whispers through Tony's chest as he reaches a hand out before Steve grabs at it and they share a look of mourning horror.

Clint grips his shoulder to steady him, and Tony bows his head, resting a hand on Bruce's shoulder. His skin feels cold beneath Tony's touch. A little hiss of grief slips through his lips without his consent. Bruce's eyes are closed, but it doesn't hide what has happened.

No one is injury free from the explosion, and it shows on their faces and the various body parts they're trying to hide or are careful of. Collectively, they look like they went a few rounds with a large lawnmower and lost.

Bruce is…

Bruce is dead.

"It's okay," Steve murmurs, but obviously shaken, "it's okay."

"He's gone," Tony whispers, "oh, gosh, he's really—"

"I know," Clint sighs, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, "we know."

His face is wet.

Bruce is dead.

Thanos's army is amassing in the distance.

And Bruce is still dead.

Clint reaches forward to say something, but that's when the first blaster bolts hit, and everything really becomes a blur after that. The battle is grim, ugly, bloody, and completely hopeless. He's not stupid enough to be cocky about the odds. They are not enough to defeat the mindless Outriders, or really do more than vaguely annoy the Black Order.

Tony's updated his suits since Thanos's first assault, but it hardly seems to help anything.

They're already injured, tired, and their weapon supply low. None of them can find Thanos, and Gamora and Nebula—their Nebula—have gone missing. Thor and Loki never got out of the rubble, and Tony doesn't want to know who will be digging their bodies out, because he really doubts it will be them.

They're going to lose.

And maybe, in some distant part of him, Tony is relieved that they really will be doing it together.

Finally.

But, oh, he doesn't want to die. He wants to hold Morgan again, and watch another sunrise with Pepper. He wants to lose another round of chess to Rhodey, Clint beat him at darts for the umpteenth time, Steve give him food poisoning when he attempts to cook again, Thor to laugh at one of his stupid science jokes because he's the only one who thought it was funny, Happy to mock his coffee choices, see Harley graduate from college, Bruce and him make another mess in the lab, Natasha to beat him bloody on the mat with training, Peter to walk into the lab ranting about something—he wants to stay here. With his family.

He doesn't want to die.

He didn't want to face Thanos again, and why had it never occurred to him before that Not-Nebula was here to bring him? He hadn't even thought of her reasons for being here, but it makes so much sense and he feels so stupid.

They should have been more prepared, but they weren't. Again.

God alone knows how this will finish, but Tony prays with everything he's worth that no one else will kick the bucket. They've already lost Natasha and Bruce. They don't need another one.

Please.

Please.

A powerful ripple washes across the battlefield suddenly, halting Tony's attack on one of the Outriders and the blow is nearly enough to topple him face-first into the dirt. A powerful ring of light, power, washes across his sight. He has no idea what it is, but it seems dangerous. And very unwelcoming.

Long seconds pass.

Steve, beside him, looks up with a ragged in inhale and his eyes go wide. "Tony that's—" he starts with amazement, but his voice is cut off as the Outriders release another round of fire, and they have to focus on that. It's nearly another two minutes before blood rushes into Tony's ears with surprise and a deep relief as he looks up at sees.

It was the six of them against an army of thousands, and suddenly they aren't alone anymore.

The portals sparkle creating a hoop of yellow relief, lighting up the darkness and casting it out. They aren't alone anymore. He briefly hears Sam make some sort of snooty comment about being on the left, and then they all pour out into the battlefield.

The Vanished.

The Vanished returned.

They aren't alone anymore.

How?

The Infinity Stones were lost in the fray and—does it even matter? They are here. They might actually have a shot at winning this now, and that's all that matters. All that should. They've tipped the balance, and now Thanos's certain victory is less so. Tony and the others watch, battered and bruised as the others step through.

Wakanda, Asgard, the Masters of the Mystic Arts, Guardians of the Galaxy, the Vanished Avengers, Carol and her Skrull, S.H.I.E.L.D., led by Coulson and Fury, Pepper—everyone.

They aren't alone anymore.

Tony barely holds back a sob of relief at seeing them, but their enemies don't really dawdle. They gawk for a long second at the sheer numbers they now have to face before diving into the fray with venomous, loud war cries.

Tony shares at look with his teammates, gathers himself as best he can, and then joins the fighting again.

They still haven't found the Infinity Stones, and Thanos has yet to show himself.

Steve turns to him, catching his shield and wipes blood from his nose, "We need to find the Stones," he says. "You go help the others. Keep the Outriders off of us."

Tony nods, "Got it, Cap. Distraction time away."

He shoots up into the air, and grabs an Outrider throwing him towards it into Midnight Proxima's face. Diving past the woman, he skids to a halt more than three dozen feet away, scanning for any strays he needs to keep away from the destroyed Compound.

Pepper dives down next to him in the Rescue suit, and flips open the face plate to give him a smirk as she fires at something behind him, "You should have invited me." She chides.

Tony shakes his head and leans forward to press a quick kiss against her forehead, "Yeah. No. Not by my choice. Who's watching our daughter?" Morgan is four. There is no way that Pepper left her by herself yet, and their neighbors are all mean and grumpy (something Tony is privately relieved by, they're normal). She got a sitter, right?

Pepper smiles innocently, and Tony's eyebrows meet, "Pep—"

"May wasn't doing anything!" Pepper calls and flips down the face plate, "She said she'd take her."

Tony sighs with exasperation and FRIDAY fires out an automatic missile from his shoulder to hit something behind him, "That means you dropped her off and didn't ask." He comments and flips around to shoot several repulsor rays.

"That woman is practically her aunt," Pepper defends, "and besides, would you have wanted someone else to watch her?"

Tony hesitates, then blows out a breath of frustration, "No."

"See?"

"Is anyone there?" Steve asks over the comms, "I've got a herd of Outriders headed for the remains of the Compound, they're blocking our search for the Stones, we can't keep them off."

"I'm on my way," Pepper says and glances back at him a final time before shooting up into the air. Tony watches her go with a misplaced pride and other emotions. He's terrified for her life, but she's helping them. She's so much braver than she gives herself credit for.

Please don't let her die.

He works on removing the small group of Outriders from completely destroying a handful of Wakadian soldiers, and feels his stomach jolt to his chest with relief when Steve says, breathlessly over the comms: "Never mind, cancel the call for backup, Recuse. Hulk just arrived on scene."

Bruce.

Oh, thank God.

Bruce is alive. Bruce is alive.

The thought empowers him, and Tony dives into the fray with new energy despite his broken bones and aching everywhere. It takes him nearly three more minutes before he runs into any of the previous Vanished.

Dr. Strange gives him a small smirk of reassurance when he lands next to him, and Tony resists the urge to hit him. He doesn't bother with greetings, instead, he fumbles out his question without much restraint, "You said, back on that planet that there was fourteen million plus ways we lose, but one where we win. Is this it?"

He needs to know.

He needs to know.

Strange's face tightens somewhat, and he shakes his head after a second of hesitation. "I can't tell you."

Of course he can't.

Wizardry law demands that he can't. What is this? Cinderella? Tony wants to know if the magic is going to run out before midnight. Please, God, please let this be the one. Please, please, please.

Strange rushes off then, and Tony works on beating his way back to the Compound so he can help Steve, Clint, and Hulk (Hulk is here. Bruce is here. Tony remembers seeing him get shot in the head. Not-Nebula didn't care, but Hulk saved his life) with their desperate search among the rubble for the Infinity Stones.

They don't know if they're still there, or if Not-Nebula took them somewhere else.

FRIDAY's scanners are picking up faint traces of their signatures within the building, which is the only thing they really have to go off of.

"Does anyone have eyes on Thanos!?" Steve demands over comms, and Tony's stomach sinks with despair as everyone connected gives a negative.

Flashes of light stream from every which way, and Tony nearly misses it completely when the Iron Spider suit lands to his left. It's only when it starts to move towards him that he realizes what it is, and his heart stutters in his chest with anxiety and relief.

Peter.

His child is right there.

Peter.

Peter's moving towards him rapidly and sputtering out something about Dr. Strange and waiting five years, something about Wanda, but Tony doesn't really listen. Peter's rambling. He rambles. It's him. He's alive. It worked. Oh, thank God.

Tony staggers towards him and wraps his arms around his shoulders tightly, pulling him close. Peter's words come to an abrupt halt as he does so (as he has every other time Tony has hugged him), and Tony presses a kiss to the side of his face. Peter's still so small. He's forgotten just how thin the teenager is, how tiny. The spider's arms wrap around him after a second.

"Uhm—this is nice," Peter says awkwardly.

Tony barely withholds tears of relief, but a slight laugh does escape him at that. "I've missed you, oh, thank God you're alive," he whispers softly, and squeezes his eyes shut, before flicking his gaze up towards the sky in a quiet admission of thanks.

Peter's breath tickles the side of his neck, but he leans into the embrace after a second. He's here. He's really here.

"I'm here, Dad," he whispers softly, "it's okay."

A strangled little gasp escapes him.

Tony's face feels wet, and he blinks back tears as his vision blurs again before he shoves back from the teen, keeping his hands firmly rooted on his shoulders. Peter looks up at him with an open expression of relief, but it falls slightly when Tony scowls. "Never hitchhike again. Especially on the space-ships, okay? That was the stupidest thing you've ever done and I've known you for two years."

Visibly unsettled, but not willing to be downtrodden, Peter scoffs, "Excuse me? If we're taking a vote, I would say that the—"

A blast fires and Tony's eyes widen as he shoves Peter back slightly, but a reddish wall takes the hit. Tony turns and to their left as Wanda rushes past, waving a hand to dissemble the magic, "Argue later? We are busy." She calls, spreading her hands and jumping into the air.

Her accent sounds so weird after years of not hearing it.

Her hair is shorter than it was during the Sokovia Accords mess. When did she cut her hair?

Peter lowers his mask, twisting his wrists as he checks his web shooters to see how low he is on fluid. "Yeah, she's got a point. But for the record, that incident in Brooklyn? With that building?" Tony cringes at the reminder, "That one was way stupider."

Tony lifts up a finger, "Hey now, don't you start—"

Peter gives a lazy salute and Tony can almost see his grin beneath the mask as he fires a web towards an approaching ship-thing, one that looks a little like a donut, but with lasers and pointy edges. He's tugged off and Tony tries not to openly panic as he shouts, "You are so grounded!" at the teenager's retreating form.

He wasn't ready to let him go yet.

Peter will be fine.

Calm down.

Peter laughs, "I know!" He calls back.

Tony stuffs on his helmet and shakes his head, muttering a curse under his breath as he jumps into the air to move towards Clint, Hulk, and Steve. "Teenagers."

"Indeed Boss," FRIDAY sounds tired. "I've informed Captain Rogers you're on your way. Thus far their searches have yet to yield any fruit."

Tony releases a quiet breath of frustration, diving to the right to avoid stray fire, "Of course not. You got a location you can give me on these things, or are we still in the dark?"

"Unfortunately the latter, Boss. They appear to be moving towards the surface, however. My sensors are scrambled, and I can't determine if there's life signs beneath the surface." She answers after a second. Moving? How can the Stones be moving?

Is it Thanos? He could be taking them up to look them in the eye before he slaughters everyone. Thor mentioned once how Thanos didn't snap, even though he'd had time, because he looked him directly in the eye first. But if it is Thanos, how did he know where the Infinity Stones are, and none of the rest of them?

Tony frowns, "Pull power from all the weapons save the repulsors. Try and get a wider range."

FRIDAY hesitates, "Are you certain, Boss?"

No.

"Yeah, but do it quickly, I'm almost there." He chides and watches with a distinct pang in his chest as he sees Hulk tearing through rubble rapidly. Clint and Steve look like they're trying to uncover something, but not having much success. Barnes is standing next to Steve, apparently providing cover.

Lang and a handful of others are looking for "a ugly purple truck", according to Steve, so Tony isn't surprised to not see them there.

Pepper is on aerial defense, and Tony spots a handful of Asgardian soldiers providing additional cover.

He gives a slight wave to his wife before diving down and landing with a clang in the dirt. His broken bones and aching side groan in protest to this, but Tony doesn't care. He doesn't have the time to be injured or sick right now, so it doesn't matter. Maybe it will later. Not now.

He scrambles up to his feet and moves towards Steve. After chancing a glance at Barnes—has the man heard of the term "cut your hair" before?—he turns to the captain. "What can I do?"

Steve shakes his head helplessly, "I don't know. We're not getting any success. Have you seen Thanos?"

"No," Tony presses his lips together in agitation. "He wasn't anywhere in my aerial sweep. You seen Peter?"

Clint snorts, looking back at him for a second. "That kid is as crazy as you are, last I saw him he was on Valkyrie's pegasus. About two minutes ago, they were that way," he points vaguely east, and Tony's stomach unclenches with some relief.

"Boss?" FRIDAY says to gain his attention, "I've re-routed the power like you requested. There's life signs beneath the building. I can't tell how many or if it's just one."

Life signs.

Who're—?

It could be Loki and Thor. Or maybe Thanos. Maybe Gamora and Nebula if he pushes, he has no idea who else is down there. Tony shares an anxious look with his teammates.

"Anything else?" He questions.

"They're close to the surface, but beyond that—nothing Boss. My fight against Nebula damaged my system. I can't be of much help," her voice is dangerously close to pouting, and Tony sighs a little.

"How far out are—" His voice dies abruptly as a hand ripples through the surface of the rubble and all of them scramble backwards with surprise. Their weapons raise as the large, red-gloved fingers claw at the surface before shoving the debris out of the way and yanking themselves to the top of the rubble.

Tony's stomach drops to his feet.

No.

No—

Thanos shakes his head free of the remaining dirt, and looks all of them over with a scathing gaze. Tony wants to wither beneath it, and a faint twist of pain whispers through the scar of his stab from five years ago.

"Ah...you must be the Avengers," Thanos says and smiles softly, gently almost. "I've been looking forward to at last making your acquaintance."

He shifts his hand pointedly, and all of their gazes flick to the gleam of the Infinity Stones on his hand. The Gauntlet. Not the gold one that lays on Thanos's rotting corpse in the Garden, but the one that Tony built. No. Not again.

"Yeah. The feelings are not mutual." Was that his voice? It sounds almost breathlessly strangled. His hands tremble slightly before he grits his jaw and tightens his fists. An entirely new emotion surfaces for the first time this evening, and he thinks maybe he should have been expecting it:

Rage.

This is the man that murdered his son. That murdered Wanda, Sam, Clint's family, Strange—everyone. He killed half of all life. This is a sadist, a psychopath, and Tony has never wanted anyone dead more. They're Avengers. They avenge. But more than that—they protect.

I hope they remember you.

I hope you rot.

Tony lifts up his repulsors and fires rapidly. The surge of power FRIDAY had to steal to get a basic map of their surroundings took more than he was expecting, but it doesn't matter. Clint fires a stream of arrows, and Steve chucks his shield at the Titan's face. If Thanos is surprised by their sudden attacks, he doesn't act the part.

He merely lifts up his Gauntlet and wields it in defense as if this is one of the most boring things he's encountered this month.

Hulk dives bodily at him with a roar, but Thanos chucks him with the Power Stone and he goes flying out of Tony's sight.

"Power is at thirteen percent," FRIDAY informs him quietly.

No.

Not now.

Steve is shouting into the comms for backup, but no one seems to be coming. Pepper has landed next to Clint and Barnes, and Tony's entire body is radiating with frozen terror as Thanos advances towards the group with ease.

Ten percent power.

Steve grabs his shield as flings back to him and turns to Tony with wild, frightened eyes.

No words are spoken.

They don't have to be.

This is their team. Their family, and Thanos has another thing coming if he thinks that he can take that without facing any consequences. Tony refuses to let them die. He can't do this again. This is his team. His family.

He can see the conviction reflected in Steve's gaze. Like the idiots they are, both of them barrel into the Titan from behind without much of a plan.

Thanos is thrown forward staggering, but doesn't tumble onto his side or his stomach, and—what does it take to knock him over!? Tony drew blood. He drew blood once, why can't they do that—

Tony's ears are rushing with blood, and he can hardly make out anything in his head, let alone words being spoken in his ears. Thanos's fist slams into Steve's chest, near his throat and rib cage, and the captain plummets to the earth with strangled, pained cry, and Tony has a second to process that before Thanos's fist smacks into his armor and he's slammed onto his back.

Something snaps, the armor shoving into his stomach, and he cries out loudly.

Ow.

Ow.

Oh, God, please. A miracle. You were supposed to help us!

A foot slams against his chest, increasing the pressure on his already tender ribs, and Tony grabs at it wildly as he looks up for half a second. Pepper, Barnes, and Clint are on the ground, and the Power Stone is glowing softly within the confines of the Gauntlet. Steve is laying down, and he's not moving.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut.

He built that stupid Gauntlet to save everyone. Maybe it did its job bringing them back, but it didn't do enough. It brought them back, it didn't save them. It was waiting in Nat's office for hours before Not-Nebula escaped, something he'd put together when Bruce finally shoved him off to take a break from sitting at the desk looking at the time-platform and waiting for the others to return.

His creation was used to kill people.

Again.

The pressure on his chest is getting heavier. He thinks his ribcage is going to crack open. Is he going to die? He doesn't want to die. Maybe he is dying, because his head feels fuzzy.

He doesn't want to die.

Please, please...

He feels his bones begin to cave before the thick scent of ozone washes over his senses and the pressure is suddenly alleviated, followed by a booming crack of thunder rippling through the air.

Beneath his closed lids, Tony can see the bright flash of light. The cackle of lightning is so out of place among the other sounds of battle. It wasn't cloudy this morning and Tony's chest clenches as he holds back a cry of relief.

Thor.

He's alive.

Thanos releases a loud grunt and Tony hears a weird sort of swishing sound before a loud voice exclaims, "Your savior is here!"

Loki.

Tony peels his eyes open tilting his head slightly as he sees a blur of movement. Thor, with an lavish burn and overall damage up his left arm, but startling whole, dives past him with a sword in either hand and slams bodily into something. Loki, with his horned helmet in one hand and Nebula's sword in his other is half a second behind.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back on the ground for a second.

This is fine.

It's good.

All fine.

Yeah.

Oh, he's so tired. He doesn't want to get up. C'mon Stark. There's still so much more you need to do.

"Tony!" That's Pepper's voice, and he feels hands tugging his helmet off his head a second later. He opens his eyes to look up at her beautiful face, pinched with worry and her eyes wet with tears. If he wasn't already furious at Thanos to the point of murder, this would settle the deal.

No one makes Pepper cry.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Pepper instructs and he tilts his head back to her, smiling faintly. "We're not done yet, alright? Yeah? Get up, you'll be okay, okay? Let's just get you up." She grabs at his arm, swinging it across her shoulders.

Lightning ripples through the air, and there's another booming crack of thunder so loud it makes both of them wince.

"Are you okay?" Pepper questions and Tony blinks, catching her gaze. He...doesn't know. He's wet around his stomach with what he knows isn't water, and the armor is digging sharply enough to break skin.

He's bleeding.

Badly.

Blunt force trauma.

Bloood.

Ten minutes is probably the max for this, and the strain the rest of his body has been through with Not-Nebula's attack and the explosion hasn't done wonders. He feels ruddy awful. He wants to lay down. He wants to rest.

"I will be," Tony says at last, with a faint rasp, and turns to look at her face, trying to memorize it. He is lucky to claim her his. He is so, so lucky. He flicks his gaze up and sees Clint and Barnes helping Steve to his feet about fifteen feet away. Steve's face is pale, and his mouth is red rimmed. Beyond that is Gamora and Nebula standing side by side and shooting off any approaching Outriders with guns he has no idea where came from.

He knows they favor swords, and a quick glance up shows that their weapons are in the hands of the Asgardian royalty.

The thing that catches his attention the most, though, is Thanos.

Loki and Thor are quickly wearing him down, and the Titan is obviously losing. Tony has seen Thor fight with other weapons beyond a hammer or an axe, but never like this. His borrowed swords are a blur against the Titan's defenses. He and Loki move like a well oiled hinge, their fighting styles merging into something deadly.

Loki seems to just know when Thor plans to use lightning before Thor does and backs out of the way for his sibling to strike.

He saw Dr. Strange use sorcery on Titan, but Loki's is...it isn't very hard to see who has more experience between the two of them. The Vikings thought Asgardians gods, and for the first time, Tony can really see why.

He leans against Pepper heavily as she helps him towards Steve's position.

The pain is brutal, and his body is verging between giving out completely on the spot or face planting and not moving for several weeks. The latter would be preferred, but not exactly convenient. Steve looks up at him, hand pressed against his chest with wide eyes.

Thanos lasts about another twenty seconds before Loki yells out loudly, "Gamora!" and the Infinity Gauntlet goes flying through the air. Tony lurches for it, seeing the others do the same, but Nebula throws her sister and green fingers wrap around the red metal and she hefts it from the sky into her hands, landing in a roll.

"Got it!" Gamora confirms.

Thunder ripples through the air. Tony looks up to see Thor and Loki holding Thanos back in a choke hold.

"No!" Thanos shouts, "You would dare betray me so, Daughter!? I loved you like my own! You would dare defy that!?"

Gamora, moving rapidly towards them with Nebula at her side and—holy crap, the Luphamoid's entire robotic arm is gone—makes a disgusted face of obvious agreement. She comes to a stop in front of them, face slightly pale and Tony can see crusted blood on the side of her head and hair.

"You must listen to me," Gamora says, voice hard, "we have a plan, but it will require more people. How many more can you get over here?"

Steve coughs weakly and Tony's stomach churns with discomfort as he sees the captain's spitting out blood. Clint's hand tightens around the super soldier's arm, and Barnes sends a scathing look in Thanos's direction.

"There's about twenty close enough to get here in under a minute." Steve answers, voice weak.

Nebula nods, "Then get them here. Now."

Tony opens his mouth to voice it over the comms, but FRIDAY beats him to it. "I've told them. Already on their way, Boss."

"They're coming," Tony assures. His voice sounds gravelly. Wet is leaking on his stomach. Blood. Everything hurts. His ribs are aching from the broken bones.

Gamora nods, firing at a stray Outrider. "Good."

Tony's vision blurs suddenly and a faint hissing noise slips through his lips as he presses a hand against stomach when a fiery pain spreads throughout the area. Oh, it burns. Gah! Pepper is saying something worriedly, and he feels another hand touch at him.

No touching!

Stop it!

Augh!

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and blinks several times, looking up as he manages to regain his breath. He pulls his glove away and it's slick with his blood. Oh.

He's dying.

He's really dying.

There's so much blood.

Breathe, Stark. Panic attacks aren't going to help anyone.

"Mr. Stark!?" Peter yells behind him and Tony lifts up his head slightly as he ducks through the small space between him and Clint. Peter's brown eyes are wide as he grabs at his shoulders to help keep him upright before they flick to Pepper. "Ms. Potts? I don't understand. What's—?"

"I'm fine," Tony insists in interruption, though he sounds like he's gasping out his final breaths. This is pathetic. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not—" Peter starts to disagree.

"What's…" Sam starts to ask, on Tony's left, before he re-evaluates and asks instead: "Are we going to stand here gawking at the Asgardians or help them?"

"Wait." Gamora instructs.

Tony sees a flare of red from the corner of his eye before Wanda lands with a slight stumble next to Steve. "FRIDAY said it was urgent, what is—" she flicks her gaze up and her fists clench as she sees Thanos attempting to beat his way past the siblings.

They're keeping him back with what doesn't look like a great deal of ease, but they're managing.

Strange appears on Pepper's left and Tony sees a handful of others behind him. Carol, King T'Challa, the rest of the Guardians, the Valkyrie, Hulk, and about a dozen others move beside Wanda.

Gamora glances them all over before she nods and turns to Tony, lifting out the broken, charred Gauntlet to him. "You are in the middle," she says in way of explanation, and Tony blinks at her slightly before he reaches his hands out and takes the heavy item from her. A shudder rushes through his limbs as he comes in closer contact with the Stones.

Oh, he hates these stupid things.

"What are we doing?" Clint questions and Gamora exhales stiffly.

"We are sharing the burden," she murmurs, and meets his eyes, "I am not from this timeline, and you did not kill us the first time. Stark, you have to put us back to our time the way we were before. Scattered memories will remain, but beyond that we will have no recollection of this."

Scattered...oh. Oh. That makes...a lot of sense. That is how Thanos knew him. Not because Tony's name had crossed galaxies, but because Thanos had a faint memory of this time stuck in his head somewhere. Nebula once explained about the Power Stone to him, and this must be how Gamora just knew what to do.

"You…" Tony's lips form the words slowly, "...want me to snap."

"Yes." Gamora says and reaches out to press his and Peter's hand together. "Star-Lord said that everyone needs to take hands or—" loud yells sound up, cutting her off, and Tony has half a second to look up before Thor and Loki go flying through the air and land hard somewhere far on his left.

Thanos moves forward and Tony sees the Black Order standing beside him. Midnight Proxima lowers her spear-gun-thing, and Tony's stomach clenches tightly in anticipation. The Outriders are forming up behind Thanos.

He's going to be sick.

Thanos comes to a halt in front of them, wiping blood from several gashes dotting his face as he twists a thick double-bladed sword. He's bleeding from his chest, someone stabbed him, "You are making a mistake trying to fight this. I am inevitable."

"Now," Gamora hisses.

Tony shares a glance with Pepper before he flexes his fingers and FRIDAY grabs at the Infinity Stones from the charred Gauntlet, moving them onto his glove. The pain is staggering, but beyond a brief fuzzing in the corners of his vision and the taste of blood rising up through his throat, it isn't unendurable. His vision blackens a little, too, and Peter and Pepper have to keep him upright, but it's on.

Gamora lifts up her gun and stands in front of their small group to return fire from the few stragglers as Nebula shifts into the crowd somewhere. Grab hands. She said to grab hands. What the—?

He's going to be sick.

Aughhh…

Tony grabs at Peter's hand tightly and grips Pepper's with his other. Peter snatches at Clint's and he sees everyone in their pathetic half circle begin to slowly pick up the cues.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Strange give a very slight nod in his direction.

Is this the one?

I can't tell you.

Steve wipes blood from his face as they shift forward and Steve lifts up a clearly broken hand to grab at Bucky's metal hand, then, in a commanding voice that leaves no room for argument, but is clearly exhausted, he says: "Avengers...assemble."

Hands snatch together rapidly.

And then, holding only their last fingers together, Tony snaps against Rescue's palm.

The pain doesn't draw anything from his voice. Not a scream, not a yell, just gasping tears and the inability to breathe. Like going on a roller coaster and the compression in the chest that renders someone breathless? Yeah. That.

He can't breathe and feels Pepper and Peter's hands jerk against his, but they don't draw away.

He gasps sharply, hot tears spilling down his face, but he can't inhale.

He needs...

Oh, gosh, he needs to breathe.

Gamora looks back at him for a moment, but he can't determine her expression from his blurring vision. She squeezes her eyes shut as her body stands still for a moment before it seems to...collapse in on herself. Twisting into something painful before jerking backwards as if tugged around the waist and she blurs before vanishing from his view completely. A quick glance towards the rest of the battlefield reveals the same thing happening to everyone else not from 2023.

Thanos, the Black Order, his freakin' ship, everything.

Soon, the silence swallows everything, and Tony has the briefest impression that they are finally safe. Thanos is gone. Dead. He's really, really dead. He lost. His hand hurts. His everything hurts. They won.

Tony blinks several times, trying to breathe in and out, but his lungs still feel wrong.

"Well," he says in a wheeze, and his voice feels like an echo in the sudden stillness. Heads turn towards him at it, and it's a fight to get the following syllable out: "Yay."

Tony has a second to see Steve topple forward, Barnes barely catching him, Clint following close behind and Peter grabbing at him, and then his vision darkens completely and he collapses. Hands scramble to grab him, but he's unconscious before his head hits the ground.

000o000

He doesn't really remember much after that. There's faint whispers of people talking, someone holding his hand, fingers tracing broken skin or putting something back together, but he doesn't feel present enough to really panic at that. A strong whiff of antiseptic, just hospital smells in general, it doesn't matter.

He wakes up long enough to briefly see visitors, though he can't remember much of what happens. He thinks he saw Harley, Morgan, and Nebula, a couple of others as well, but it's all so foggy. Pepper kisses his forehead at one point and promises him he can rest.

Pepper's hand is a constant, along with the faint whispers of the other Avenger's voices.

Including Thor's.

Eventually, he manages to hold onto consciousness enough to actually be awake and blurrily processes what he can. Everything throbs with a dull agony, but it's not nearly as intense as he remembers it being on the...on the wherever he was. He can't really remember. That's fine. It must be fine, because Tony doesn't want to contemplate the implications of what will happen if he can't remember.

Thanos. They were fighting Thanos and Gamora gave him the Gaunlet and told him to...

He can't feel his left hand. He can't—it's gone. His entire left hand is just...there is nothing. He can't twitch his fingers. He can't move his elbow, he doesn't even know if it's there. Tony's breathing picks up speed, and a low thrum of panic settles into his stomach. Tony's eyes rip open, and he attempts to shove into a seated position, but finds almost no success. His body is to weak, and a hand grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down.

His arm.

He doesn't—

No, no, no—

His voice feels croaky, but he thinks that he's pleading for help. He can't really hear it. Please, please, please. No. No, no, no.

"Shh," a female voice cuts through the haze of panic, and Tony turns towards it somewhat, trying to get anything below his left shoulder to move. His fingers. Just—something. There is nothing. Nothing.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

"Shh, Tony, it's okay," the voice soothes—he knows it, but he can't place why it sounds wrong—and a hand gently strokes the side of his face. "Let's take some deep breaths, okay?"

"M-m-my," he sputters out. "Hand. Hand. Please, it's—"

"I know," the voice assures, "I know. It's okay, yeah? Let's breathe in, and out. In...Tony. Follow me." The voice doesn't sound calm anymore, vaguely chiding, and Tony forces in a shaky breath. Then an exhale. Another breath. Another exhale. Again and again until his breathing has settled and he can see better. He's in a hospital room, Stark Medical, a vague part of him recognizes, and he thinks he's been here for a while. The room shows evidence of habitation for at least a week, maybe more, he doesn't know.

His hand is dead. It's paralyzed. It's not coming back.

It's—

"You've done well, duratskiy malchik, keep breathing, yes?"

Tony stills.

Slowly, carefully, barely daring to breathe, he looks up. He blinks several times, trying to process what he's seeing. This can't—there is no way...how...?

Natasha gives him a faint smile from her position in the chair next to him and her hand traces down his arm as if trying to find his hand before she grips his fingers with a quick squeeze. "Mr. Stark, did you miss me?" She questions cheekily.

Tony's breathing hitches and he shoves himself upward despite his exhausted limbs and the machines sprouting from his skin to grab her in a half hug. His other hand is dead, resting in his lap, but for right now, it doesn't matter. "Oh, thank God," he whispers, breathing in the scent of Natasha's hair deeply. She smells like mint. She always smells like mint.

Natasha's hands wrap around him tightly, but gently, in turn. "I'm here." She promises, "I'm here."

"I hate you," Tony's voice is slurring. "You are the most awful human being in existence. How dare you jump when we needed you. Do you have any idea how much you angered Clint? He was going to freakin' drag you back from heaven to kill you again and I would've helped. You are awful. You made Steve cry, did you know that? Don't ever do something like that again, okay? Jerk."

Natasha gives a faint laugh, squeezing him harder. "Love you too." She teases.

Tony's body is going lax against hers, and Natasha slowly lowers him back onto the hospital bed with a gentleness he wouldn't have thought her capable of before 2012. He tilts his head slightly, clenching his right fist and studies her face.

She's pale and her red hair is hanging over her shoulders without much effort put into styling it. She's dressed in loose clothing, but he's not even a little bit surprised to see that she's stolen one of Thor's hoodies and she's probably wearing one of Clint's shirts beneath that. The woman is a freakin' clothing hoarder, and he swears she has no idea what a personal closet is.

But the most prominent thing is her eyes. They've always been a vivid blue-green, but now...they're a murky grayish-white. It's almost sickening, but Tony doesn't draw back, even as much as he'd like to. Natasha seems to sense his stare and he sees her anxiously try to hide a wring of her hands.

Tony's eyebrows lower slightly and he gnaws on his inner lip before asking, quietly, "What happened? How did you get back? What happened to your..." he doesn't want to finish that. It seems rude.

Natasha sighs deeply and gestures vaguely towards her face. "You lose something every time you die," she says softly. Solemnly. "It was the deal that Bruce made with the guardian of the Soul Stone. He could trade his life for mine, which everyone refused to let him, or choose one of the injuries that I sustained from the fall to be permanent. I cracked my head open, Tony. According to Bruce there's a pretty wicked scar back there," she gives a weak grimace as she runs a hand through her hair. "Between permanent paralysis from my broken spine, paralysis in my legs from the fall, or a dozen other worse alternatives, Bruce...ah...decided this one would be easiest."

Tony sees her face briefly flicker with frustration and he lifts an eyebrow, "You're angry."

She sighs. "Maybe a little. I wasn't given a choice on what I wanted, and I know that's part of the punishment...but I still," she shakes her head, "Gamora wasn't much better than me, though. Apparently Nebula thought that it would be a fight to the death on who we were going to save, but Bruce just asked the guardian of the Stones if they could trade for two souls, and, beyond the brief scuffle when Rocket had to steal the Stone so we could get it back to 2014, there wasn't too many problems."

Tony feels a weight lift off his shoulders, "You already returned the Stones?"

"Yeah," Natasha nods, giving a faint smile. "You were unconscious for two weeks, balvan."

Tony jerks, "Two—?"

Natasha sits back slightly, "Steve finally regained consciousness only a couple of days ago. Clint beat all of you, you know that? He's pretty proud." At his disbelieving silence, she rolls her murky eyes, "What were you expecting? Hours? You were in the center of the equivalent of a nuke, and then went out and fought Thanos like it wasn't anything. You know blunt force trauma? What about the fact that you, like a stupid idiot, decided to use the gauntlet? You're human, Tony. Thor barely walked away, and that's only because Nebula grabbed his hand when she realized what he was doing and Frigga gave Loki some of Asgard's medical equipment because she had a feeling that "we would need them."" she lifts up her fingers in quotation marks, shaking her head a little. "Witches."

Tony can't help his open gawking, and is quietly relieved that she can't see it. It's humiliating as it is, but he can't help it. He spent so much time asleep. Two weeks. Two. That isn't...he hadn't even...

"Is everyone else okay?" Now he asks it? Too busy moping over his own troubles—paralyzed. He's paralyzed in one arm—to ask about the things that really matter. Like his family. The Vanished. Peter. The others. Where are they? He remembers Pepper, that much he's certain of, and Morgan, but he can't...Peter. Is Peter okay? He was right next to Tony. What if, because of that, he took some of the worst of the damage? What if...

Natasha's lips thin a little and she breathes out heavily, "It's...somewhat. There were causalities of the battle, but none of our team. Everyone walked away," Natasha rocks her head side to side for a second, waving a hand, "metaphorically speaking. Really, beyond a few more wicked scars, the only permanent injuries to the team was my eyes, your arm, and Steve's heart. Yay us."

Tony's stomach clenches, "What...what about Steve's heart?"

Natasha is quiet. Slowly, she leans forward, "It's...the doctors don't...Thanos broke his sternum. It pierced his heart."

"And he survived?" Tony blinks several times, trying to keep off a bout of sudden dizziness. That shouldn't be possible. Yeah, Tony had shrapnel poke at his once or twice, but that isn't the same thing as having a freakin' bone shoved into the organ. Oh, gosh, Tony can remember how pale Steve looked and the wild terror on his face. Tony had just thought it the result of Thanos coming towards them, he never would have guessed it was because he'd just had his heart stabbed.

Natasha nods. "He's a stubborn pain in the butt, I'll give you that. They say that it could improve or it couldn't, but palpitations are a problem. Anything more strenuous than walking right now will probably lay him flat."

Tony exhales softly, his hand unconsciously lifting towards the scar that the arc reactor left behind. He traces it, feeling a cold shudder wash across his spine.

He repeats the words in his head again, and then his brow furrows, "Wait...Thor wasn't...he used the gantlet and he's...fine?"

"His nerves are a mess and he's scarred," Natasha inputs, then worries her lip between her teeth, "so I've heard, at least, but yeah."

A twist of awful jealously squirms in his stomach despite his best efforts to quench it. Thor...walked away, unharmed, and Tony will never...he's never going to use his left hand again. It would have been easier to see the whole stupid thing come off, but it's still there. Like dead weight. He doesn't want to look at it. He can see ugly burn patterns now that he's looking for it. Along with bandaging. His wedding ring is missing. Probably destroyed in the snap.

Natasha sighs and reaches forward, gripping his right hand again after a little struggle to find it. "Hey. We all knew that getting the Vanished back wouldn't be easy or clean. Honestly, Tony, did you really expect to come home at all?"

"No," his voice is a barely audible. He didn't want to die, but he'd expected it. He's known it was coming, that he's been living on borrowed time since Yinsen.

And now...

"Are we going to be okay?" Tony questions, but it feels like an awful confession of murder. He flicks his gaze away from Natasha, mildly embarrassed. What a stupid question. What could possibly be okay after this? They still lost things. Maybe not life, and he's relieved by that, but they didn't walk away unscathed. Natasha's eyes alone...

From the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha smiles at him. It's sad, but it's still recognizable as one. She rests her hands on top of his. "Yes, moy brat," she says quietly, "we're going to be okay."

000o000

Thor breathes in New York's smog deeply, trying not to wrinkle his nose in disgust, but not finding a lot of success in that department. Midgard may try, but they will never compare to the crisp scent of Asgard, and Thor would be a liar to say he doesn't miss it. The brief span of days he was able to spend there have opened a gnawing ache in his stomach of longing that he'd thought he long sense closed.

It's fine, though. It hurts, but...it...he knows it will get better.

If he looks up, he knows that his eyes will stray to the star that Asgard is on this planet, and an ache will only follow. It's a supernova now, despite never having been a star in the first place. One day, he won't be able to look up and see it's ashes anymore.

The night air doesn't smell or taste any different than the day's, and, though Thor is aware of this, he's faintly disappointed.

At the sound of footsteps behind him, Thor twists around from his position on the edge of Avengers Tower's—the only place they could retreat to now that the Compound is ashes in Upstate—landing pad to see Loki moving towards him, barefoot and still dressed in the to-big clothing Thor lent him for sleeping. The footsteps were intentional, then, Loki can make himself completely silent should he choose.

His younger sibling comes to a halt behind him, tilting his head slightly, "What are you doing?"

Thor shrugs, looking down at the city again. Honestly? He doesn't know. He needed to get out of the Tower before it suffocated him—dreams, he swears, are nothing but a curse—but he's really not sure if this is much better. New York is loud, try as they might for silence at this hour, and with the increased population, it's only louder.

Loki waits for a second longer before sitting down next to him, running a hand through his messy dark hair.

Thor looks over at him, "Why are you up?"

Loki picks at his palm a little, refusing to meet his gaze. "Couldn't sleep."

The silence is heavy, and Thor feels his throat close in and squeezes his eye shut, breathing in deeply. He is safe here. This is Loki. He is safe. It's fine. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe—

Without really thinking on it, Thor blurts out: "Any world-conquering that's kept you up should wait."

Loki scoffs, and looks up at him. "Beg pardon, what?"

Yeah. That was a stupid thing to say. Thor lifts a hand out to New York, "This. Don't try and claim this."

"I never wanted it," Loki bites, and Thor winces at the reminder of his ignorance. Loki has told him very little of what happened with Thanos save he was somewhat under the scepter's influence during the invasion, but since he learned a week ago when they returned from leaving the Tesseract at the Statesmen, he still can't help stumbling over himself. One would think that by now he'd stop bubbling it out like an idiot.

"I know," Thor promises, biting at his inner gums. Safe. Safe. Safe.

Loki sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." Thor submits.

They sit in silence for a little longer, staring out at the city before Loki glances at him again. "Thank you." Thor hums in question, turning to him, and Loki gestures out vaguely around them, "For keeping me alive to see this. I...admit I had my doubts at first, with your decision, but now I..." Loki trails, apparently at loss for words.

Thor's stomach unclenches a little with relief at the admission. He'd been worried about that, in the back of his mind amidst everything else, that Loki would be furious for bringing him back. Between everything that happened after they retrieved the Stones and trying not to descend into constant panic at his worry for his teammates, he honestly can't remember if Loki agreed to go with him or not.

He thinks so.

Loki had seemed skittish when they'd helped Bruce, Nebula, and Rocket return the Stones to their proper timeline, though. Bruce had taken New York and the Soul Stone, and he and Loki had returned the others. Between the anxiety that has lessened somewhat at Tony finally awakening, and trying to run a country from overseas, he'd needed the brief distraction.

And Loki did, too, though he wouldn't admit that outloud.

Thor knows that what he watched of Loki's death was real, but it hadn't occurred to him that it was only real because someone chose for it to be until Loki insisted they return the Tesseract first, and he used the Reality Stone to warp what happened. It's the reason Thor's out here. He dreamt about the snapping of Loki's neck again. He had to watch it, and knowing that Loki was beside him, perfectly fine, had done nothing to stop his horror.

He kept hearing it over, and over, and over, and over.

Thor breathes out slowly, trying to ground himself in the present, and clenches his fists, wincing a little as his left hand's nerves pinch. He glances at the younger and admits, "Thank you for staying. I'm...I'm grateful that I didn't go for the head, you know, because I got to save you."

Loki's expression softens. "You are a sentimental oaf. You know that?"

"I do." Thor promises, offering a faint smile. Silence lapses, but it's comfortable, and Thor turns his head towards the east, watching the first colors of the sun begin to paint the sky a faint pink. Loki shifts his gaze forward as well, and together they watch the sun rise.

Author's Note: END. I've posted chapter one of (one of possibly others, still not certian) aftermath fic to this fic called "My Blood Meant Nothing To You, Did It?" It focuses primarily on Peter P. and the Stark-fam, but the other characters are present, if you're interested. ;) If all goes according to plan, I'll also be posting an aftermath fic based around the Avengers, Loki & Thor, and the Guardians.

(Also, the killing knife was for Thanos. It's always been for Thanos).

Russian translations: duratskiy malchik: Silly boy; balvan: essentially "thick headed fool"; moy brat: my brother.

Thank you so much for your support, encouragement, and enthusiasm for this story. You have been a blessing. I have greatly enjoyed being able to share this with you, and want you to know that YOU have been such a wonderful audience. Virtual hugs for everyone. You're all amazing, and don't you dare forget that. Thanks again!

-LodestarJumper