chess

Tony was scared.

He had confronted the idea of death long ago, long before the idea of Iron-Man had ever crossed his mind, but it scared him still. It hurt more, too, that people relied on him. Before Iron-Man, when he was just the Merchant of Death, he doubted anyone would have mourned him. His mind, certainly. His inventions, of course. But the same people would whisper about how he would have gone on, creating weapons of mass destructions, weapons that could kill them all.

But he changed. He changed, and he wished he hadn't; because, maybe then, he wouldn't have met Peter. Or Harley. Or Strange, or Nat - the people that gave him meaning, the people that he thought about to chase the nightmares away. 

The people that mattered.

All that was left was him and Nebula, without food, or water, and soon without oxygen. They had lost, and they were still losing. He didn't want to close his eyes, but the more time he spent awake, the more time he was forced to confront his fate. A fate, cold and unyielding, a fate that offered no compromise and no family. It was better than sleeping, at least.

The time he was asleep marked the time his nightmares could rear their heads, and there was no-one left to force them away. Nebula could try, but it was too hard. Too much. She didn't deserve to be saddled with his burdens, not when she had her own demons to wrestle with.

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good."

He heard her, when she thought he wasn't listening. The crying, the muffled sobs as she clutched at her head, her eye, the pieces of metal that wrenched her skin out of the way and pinned them to one place. She was embarrassed, he could tell from the way she came out from wherever she had hidden herself, her mouth set in a hard line that betrayed her eyes.

I don't wanna go, please I - I don't wanna go."

He stared off into space.

It was beautiful. He never dreamed of space when he was little. He always had his head planted firmly on the ground, in his father's workshop, in the kind of science that blew things up and left abrasions on his hands. He wished he had liked space a little more. The sight was spectacular, stars swimming and flowing together like pieces of a puzzle, the blues and greens, yellows and oranges, reds and purples gleaming and swirling like a painting. A painting of grief and loss, a painting that glowed like stones set in a golden gauntlet.

His helmet was stripped down, sparking and glowing as he fiddled with the wires in his spare time. His hands were steady, his vision clear despite the strain behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

His hands slipped.

If you die, I feel like that's on me.

He blinked the tears away, rubbing hard at his eyes like he could reach into his brain and claw the memories out.

"We're in the endgame, now."

Carol was a blessing. A goddess, with an array of stars behind her, a kind smile gracing her face where Tony might have expected a scowl, or war-hardened grief. But, in spite of the callousness of the universe, she prevailed.

And she brought them home.

Pepper was there. So many people were there, and so many people just weren't. He was tired, but there was still too much running in his mind, there was still so much left to do. People to mourn, solutions to be found; Tony had lost fights before, but never like this. He had never had so much on the line before, no-one had. And there was so much to say. There were a million words to be said, a million sentences that got caught in his throat until he choked, tears springing to life in his eyes that had nothing to do with pain.

Pepper tightened her hold, and he blinked, expecting a dream, expecting a nightmare to spring from the shadows, but she was still there.

She was still there, and her hair smelled like coconut when she pulled him into a hug. She was warm and he was warm, despite the chill of the night biting at his nose and the hollows of his cheeks. He was back, and he was grounded; for all the beauty of space, he hated feeling non-existent. He hated feeling like he could slip away at any moment, like there was nothing familiar in the world, the universe.

But now, with Pepper in his arms and familiar faces all around, Tony felt something. It wasn't peace, but it was better than before.

He spotted Nebula and a raccoon (wait, what?) holding hands on the steps of the ship. There was a shared emptiness between them as they waited in heavy silence. For what, Tony didn't know.

There were arguments. 

There were so many arguments, because none of them were done fighting. There was still an enemy somewhere, an evil monster that lurked in their minds, tainting their friendships and conversations, and they were vicious.

Tony was vicious. 

He wasn't fair, he thought. But life wasn't fair, and he was haunted by Thanos; by default, he was haunted by death. He was haunted by the final words of soldiers that time would forget, he was haunted by the words of his son, he was haunted by guilt that grew in his stomach, deep rooted and impossible to remove. He knew that Steve didn't respect him like he would a soldier.

Like he would someone who signed up for the fight, someone who did the training and jumped on the bombs, and was good and perfect. Tony had never volunteered for this, never wanted to feel the pain of losing people again.

But Tony had paid his dues, and he was still fighting the war he had been stuck in for years now. Years of struggling, and fighting, and trying, and it was never enough. He was never enough, not for anyone, and certainly not for the great Captain America. He opened his mouth, more cutting words to be thrown Roger's way, but he was so tired.

His stomach hurt, and his chest felt tight, his mouth dry - and suddenly he was back in Afghanistan. There wasn't enough air to breathe, and he knew that they had been torturing him again. He had to stay strong, though, he had to stay stonger than he had ever been before. He couldn't give them his plans, his weapons. Tony Stark was no hero, but he was no idiot, and he was no asshole. He had to do the right thing, if he had to die for it.

And, as darkness rolled over his vision, he thought he finally might.

Thor was angry. He was so, so angry, fire burning through his veins with righteous anger, his muscles quivering with the need to kill, to harm. Thor had killed monsters and demons alike, and Thanos' was the most monstrous of them all; his skull would be a fine decoration for New Asgard. He let the Woman-Captain go on first, admiring her bravery. Not many would willingly go alone to see the Mad Titan, even as a mere look-out.

He had no doubt that she was a fine warrior indeed - he had heard tales when he still lived on Old Asgard, of a woman who burned with the power of a thousand stars, but they were only whispers on foreign planets. No substance behind them. Or so he thought.

Now, he was only grateful that she was on his team. No doubt Thanos would have tried to take her for one of his children if he had found her before now, and she would have made almost as formidable an opponent as the Titan himself.

She returned, hair glowing not unlike the Disney children's show he had been made to watch what felt like years ago. She delivered her report in a soft, careful voice, like the wrong word might set any one of them off - and it might have, as well. Thanos dared try and make a life, here, after ruining so many others? Thor wouldn't let him get the chance. The stones held a lot of power between them, the Mad Titan had proven as much.

Thor didn't dare dream that they might have the power to bring Loki, and his people back - but he hoped anyway.

And, when Thanos admitted to destroying the stones, new grief struck Thor; like he had seen those he loved die all over again, like he had witnessed their slaughter anew. Three days. Three days earlier, the stones could have brought them happiness once more. Thor felt regret over some kills he had made in his life, and he knew Thanos would never be one for him to feel sorry over.

Five Years Later

A strong, brave, amazing rat squeaked, nosing at pieces of trash and garbage in the belongings dump. The dead missing people had left a lot of their belongings behind and - and people wanted to believe they would come back. Some of it was sold, but so much was stuck in dumps and storage units, waiting for people who might not return. There was faith, at least, even if it only lead to heartbreak and pain that never went away.

The rat shifted. "Sque-ak!" It squeaked, roughly translating to: "Shit!"

And Scott Lang was back, in a small, dingy area surrounded in fencing, rotted wood, and soggy cardboard boxes. God, what a shithole, he thought, before mentally calling himself out even though neither Cassie nor Steve were present to read his thoughts on his face. It didn't take too long to get out, thank God - because he was starving, thank you very much - but he almost wished he was stuck with the car as soon as he stepped outside.

It looked similar but not the same, and really didn't want to deal with it.

He wondered, for a brief moment, if he had been spat out into an alternate reality. Honestly, wouldn't be the craziest part of his week. But, as he walked faster and faster, the wind sending missing posters down the empty street, he felt a sense of unease that he had never felt before.

Where was Hope? Where was Hank, and Janet? 

What happened to Cassie?

There were too many questions, and all he could do was run. 

"Time travel?" Tony knew he sounded derisive, knew this was a one-stop ticket to never contacting the Avengers again, and he was fine with that. He had done fine without them for five years, and he had Morgan now. He had Pepper, he finally had his family, the one he had been so desperate for his whole life long. Thanos was still there, lurking in the dark (and Peter was too), but things were objectively better now.

Sure, he missed the kid. He missed the stupid science puns, and the stupid Queens-ish inflection in his voice, and he missed the fact that Peter was good, just because he could be. He missed his dumb smiles and eagerness to protect. He missed how easy it was to impress him. And that regret hollowed out a small part of his heart that Morgan would never be able to reach, that Pepper was barred from, but it was okay.

If he woke up in the dead of night, crying for food, or water, even after all these years - who would know?

Except for Pepper, who woke up and cried with him, or Morgan who heard and told him her best jokes in the morning.

And, really, he didn't know why he was so against it. He didn't. But he was, and they had left. The Avengers were gone, but they had left him with something else: a sense of hope that he had lost, a spark that would feed the fires in his mind. He could do it, he knew he could. He was Tony Stark. He was Iron-Man. 

Genius.

Billionaire.

(Ex) Playboy.

Philanthropist.

If anyone could do it, he could.

"I love you three thousand." Morgan's voice rung deep in his mind. If it would hurt her, he could just keep it hidden. He wouldn't give her up, not for the world. He couldn't choose between her and Peter, and he prayed he wouldn't have to. But he could do this. With what he knew about the Quantam Realm, and what Antboy had told him? He could save them.

He could save them all.

"We need to find out where all the stones are, and exactly when they are there." Hulk-Banner said, glasses fittng a bit too snugly on his large face. Tony rolled his eyes. 

"We already know exactly when and where they are," he said, "even I remember when you guys went to take the stones back."

There was a certain amount of shock on everyones faces when he said that, and Tony didn't even try to hide his annoyance. Had no-one thought of that already? Thanos had all the stones, was unaware, and they had their whole team together again. Well, mostly together - there were bits and pieces missing with their fallen teammates, their minds fraying with their continued absence.

But now, they had nothing left to lose.

(He had his family, his life, but what he was doing wasn't living, and there was no family without Peter.)

"We were thinking a bit earlier, Tones," Hulk-Banner said, hesitant as though he were actually considering it. Tony was sure that this was it, though; for all Thanos spouted about his power, it had taken him years to even assemble the stones, and he had almost lost them for a second there. They had almost taken the gauntlet, and Tony had only had the help of a group of idiots, a wizard, and one less-than-an-idiot child to help him.

He had more, now. This could work.

"Look, the wizard said that this is the endgame-"

"Endgame? Endgame like the chess thing?"

"Yes, Shrek, like the chess thing. We have all our pawns together, a few are missing, but we're still - we're still powerful. It's less risky than going to different places and times, and we have the same amount left to lose."

There was the same look on all of their faces: Could this work? Could they face the Titan and beat him like they hadn't before?

Tony was a genius, but he really didn't know anymore. He couldn't calculate this, as much as he tried, he couldn't predict how this would go down. All he knew was that he wanted what he had before, and what he had now. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too, and if that made him selfish then he didn't care. He was sick of being pushed around by Thanos, he was sick of being tired because of Thanos, he was sick of losing because of Thanos.

They would win. They had to.

"You guys made some friends on your trip through space, didn't you? I know how we could get some more of these space-and-time-jump things."

It wasn't the same as their old team.

But it was a team.

Some of Wakanda's army still wanted to fight - to avenge their king, to try and get their families back. Thor knew of planets, ravaged by Thanos, full of people thirsting for his blood like some people, aliens, whatever, might thirst for water. Valkyrie was soon introduced to the new Avengers, and Tony couldn't hide his smile at how well she and Carol hit it off. Like, they really hit it off. Like, goo-goo ga-ga, I hear wedding bells, kind of hit it off.

It was nice to see another nice thing come from this, he thought. Going back was easy as pie, too. He snatched over a dozen more of Pym's trial tubes, and he and Banner dedicated everything to replicating them with some of the spares. 

The remaining Asgardians wanted to fight too. Tony couldn't blame them; they had witnessed the slaughter of their friends, their families. And they were a race of warriors, fighting and drinking and eating and repeating the process like there was no tomorrow.

It took a week, maybe, for everything to be planned perfectly. And, God, Tony thought it was perfect.

This was their new beginning.

Carol went ahead, like she had before.

She came back, with slightly better news than before. "He's not wearing the armour, or gauntlet," she said, almost thrumming with glee, "I could just go back in and take it."  

It seemed easy. It seemed too, too easy. And it was.

Tense minutes later, she returned with the gauntlet clutched close to her chest, the Titan apparently none the wiser. All the people crammed in the ship stood still, for a single moment. Thor was the first to break out of the collective trance, and landed the ship, hard enough that the Titan was sure to have heard it. Carol stared at the gauntlet, Valkyrie wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. Thor offered to take it, but Carol sniffed and shook her head.

She was excited to see Director Fury, and all her alien friends, he thought, but he knew there was much more to it than that.

She bent her head, offering Valkryrie a chaste kiss before slipping it on. It was big, much too big, but she seemed sure. Her confidence suited the gaudy, stone-clad gauntlet, better than it had ever suited Thanos. And she might have been the most powerful of them all there. And, if not...

Thor had overheard her discussion with Valkryie the night before. They were prepared for the worst. They didn't want to lose each other, and he understood that more than anything.

Her maybe-sacrifice was noble. Honourable. He had nothing but faith in the woman of stars, but he worried for her still. He was a God of Thunder, and he had still been bested; he only hoped that this would be worth it. This was the end.

She looked at everyone, a smile curling her lips as she clicked her fingers.

The final battle wasn't a fair one. All the people who had been snapped - they were back, where they had originally been. Dr. Strange gathered them up, herding them one by one into his portals. Tony wouldn't have changed it for anything, though. Because - because Peter was back. Peter and Pepper were there, and he couldn't help but gather them into his arms and regret every moment of his life he spent not holding them.

He loved them. He loved them so much it hurt, and he was glad that their first bonding session since the snap would be the Beating up Thanos kind. Peter melted into his arms, Pepper holding them both tight even though she hadn't known Peter like Tony had known him. 

Carol used the gauntlet to bring them back to their timeline, her suit arm burned all the way up to her shoulder, and they celebrated.

In the midst of it all, he asked Pepper why she had treated Peter like she had known him, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling.

"Anyone you see like that, and talk about that is worthy of my love," she smiled. "Our love."

Peter and Harley were invited over for a family movie night, both of them fussing over Morgan. Carol and Valkryie had gone back to New Asgard together, the gauntlet in tow - Tony had heard rumours of them sending the stone off into the universe, or destroying them. Everyone in Wakanda celebrating the night with a party that T'Challa assured them would become apart of a new holiday for the country. Natasha and Clint were with Clint's family, Thor off on a quest for enlightment. Nebula was doing better. Quill was doing better, their own small rag-tag team joined at the hip once more. They had all lost something, but they were healing.

They were all healing.

Everything was...

Everything was perfect. 

"Hey, Tony," Peter said, mouth full of popcorn, "I think the Sherlock Holmes guy looks a lot like you."

Tony threw a pillow at him. "Dream on, Underoos."

Everyone laughed, and they watched TV until they fell asleep on the couch together.

As a family.

Tony woke up suddenly, a cold sweat drenching his body as he pulled his body upright.

It was all a dream, it was all a dream... Thanos had - he had -

"Hey," Pepper said, looking at him, bleary eyed, hair mussed from sleeping on leather cushions.

That's right. Peter had his head resting on the arm of the couch, Morgan curled up next to him while Harley lay on his feet. Pepper looked at him, love and confusion, and tiredness clouding her eyes. Tony breathed again, soft and shaky.

"We're gonna be okay," Pepper said, pulling him down so he was pressed against her, so she was holding him protectively. "You can rest, now."

Taking one, final look at his family, Tony closed his eyes, and didn't have a nightmare again.