Titan
Tony Stark struggled to stand. Star Lord helped him to his feet, mindful of the recent stab wound the Avenger had sustained while battling Thanos alone. The half-Terran looked to his teammates, still in disbelief that they had lost. After Thanos had fled Titan with the Time Stone, Drax and Mantis had gotten to their feet, with Spider-Man and Nebula making their way back to group up near Tony. However, as the group began to gather together, they heard a faint rumble, like the very end of a thunderclap. Quill looked up to see no storm clouds overhead, but an empty orange sky. Mantis, however, could tell something much worse was responsible for the noise. Her empathic senses typically required touch, but for a second, she swore she could feel immense sorrow and fear, spreading across space and time, engulfing all that is.
“Something is happening.”
No sooner than the empath had spoken than Nebula stumbled, taken aback with disbelief as her mechanical arm began to turn to dust. The others looked on, horrorstruck, as the rest of her body started to disappear. With eyes not full of fear, but rather resigned to her fate, Nebula looked to Mantis and spoke three words as she faded to nothingness.
“He did it.”
As the remains of the last child of Thanos blew away in the wind, the remaining Guardians each began checking their own bodies for signs of turning to dust. After making sure he was intact, Quill began to look for signs of Drax or Mantis becoming ash. He had seen Thanos use the Reality Stone on his friends before, but what had happened to Nebula was nothing like that. She hadn’t been altered; she had been erased. He wasn’t sure if there was anything they could do, but if Nebula was right, then he was to blame. If Thanos really had killed half the universe, the blame fell on his shoulders for ruining the plan. But as Peter Quill found no signs of him or his friends turning to dust, he breathed a sigh of relief. He could only pray that Rocket and Groot had been as lucky.
Stark, on the other hand, reached for Dr. Strange. With what strength he could muster, he grabbed the Cloak of Levitation and pulled the Sorcerer Supreme up by his collar. He glared at him, infuriated by Strange’s willingness to give Thanos the Stone now that he knew for a fact the snap had succeeded.
“Is this it? Is this the one where we win?” Tony said, hoping against all logic that Strange would say yes.
Strange’s eyes were full of regret. He reached for Tony’s arms to pull them off of his cloak, but his hand tremors refused him the strength to remove them.
“It was supposed to be. The stones were supposed to allow Nebula to live, but not the others… or me.”
“Then I’m supposed to survive? Is that why you asked Thanos to spare me?”
“Mr. Stark?”
Peter Parker’s timid voice cut through Tony’s rage. He looked down at his hands that had been clenching Strange so tightly as they began to billow away. The armor was taking some time for the snap to destroy, but it didn’t change the truth. Tony Stark would soon be dead.
“Mr. Stark! Sir, please don’t go!” Peter rushed to his mentor’s side as Strange fell from Tony’s fading hands. The guardians moved closer but kept enough distance to not crowd the clearly upset teen. Quill cursed himself mentally, knowing that this death was on his hands too.
“Sir please! I don’t want you to go!” Peter cried, hugging Tony tightly as the armored avenger began to grasp the teen by the shoulders.
“Kid. Hey, kid. Pete!” Stark shouted over Peter’s sobbing. Peter stepped back, looking his mentor in the eyes.
“You’re gonna be fine. You’ll find a way to fix all of this, I know you will.”
“But Tony-” Peter began, but he was cut off by Tony pulling him in for a hug. Even with his arms beginning to fade entirely, Stark hugged Peter as tightly as he could. “I made you an Avenger for a reason. I believe in you, Peter.” And as Peter cried, holding tightly to his childhood hero, Tony Stark became but dust in the wind.
Peter fell to the ground, clenching his fists so hard he could barely feel them. The tears running down his face refused to stop, and as the boy felt the immense sorrow and hopelessness of reality sink in, he screamed on word.
“Tony!” he cried as he slammed his fist into the ground below him, sending a tremor through the dirt and shattering the stone the others stood upon. The Guardians, steadying themselves, looked away, not wanting to see the upbeat Spider-Man grieving like this. Dr. Strange pulled himself closer, slowly standing up with assistance from his cloak.
After a few minutes, Peter looked up at Stephen, wiping his eyes. “What are we supposed to do?” the boy asked, his voice hoarse from sobbing. “How are we supposed to win without Tony?” Strange said nothing, his mind thinking back to the moment he gave up the Time Stone. The future he had seen... in that version of events, the opposite group of people had lived while the other half had died. In this new timeline, without Tony, not to mention Rocket and Bruce, could they invent the time machine they would need after Thanos destroyed the stones? Without Natasha and Clint’s sacrifice, could they retrieve the Soul Stone from the past? Without Thor and Captain Marvel’s immense power, could they defeat a past version of Thanos? Without Scott Lang’s inspiration for the time heist? Without Steve Roger’s leadership?
Strange looked to the Guardians. He saw in them uncertainty, trepidation. They worried for their allies they had not seen since the snap and feared that they may have truly lost Nebula and any other victims of Thanos forever. He could tell they were as nervous about his answer as Spider-Man was. But as he looked down at the young Avenger, he didn’t see fear in Peter’s eyes. In fact, he almost seemed beyond even sorrow. For an instant, all he saw on the boy’s face was determination, a complete unwillingness to give up. Even through his teary eyes, Peter looked as though he didn’t want reassurance that Tony could be saved, but instructions on how to save him.
“Can we save Tony?”
And for a moment, even Strange was convinced of the words he spoke.
“We will. Absolutely.”
As Peter stood back up, the Sorcerer Supreme saw in Quill's face regret and self-hatred. Clearly, he blamed himself for the snap. But Strange knew he was to blame as well. He had bet that Stark and Nebula would survive, but he had been wrong. He'd called heads, but the coin had come up tails. But the doctor knew it was useless to point fingers. No one knows for certain which side a tennis ball that has hit the net will fall on until it reaches the ground. All anyone can do is work with what they have. And as Strange looked at who he still had left, he knew he could certainly make do with this team. Helping Peter to his feet, he strode over to man who'd lost the love of his life and placed a hand upon his shoulder.
"We'll save all of them. Whatever it takes."