It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
They were supposed to win.
Tony collapsed on the ground, staring at the spot he last saw Peter lying against. Now, there was nothing. Just a pile of ruble, reminding him of how the rest of the world probably looked since they lost.
Lost.
A term Tony was far too unfamiliar with. He doesn’t lose. Not really. He has been told time and time again by many foes that he has lost, but he hasn’t. He’s always won in the end, but this time, this . . . foe-
Tony clutched his hands into fists. This couldn’t be happening. They - Peter - couldn’t be . . . dead. He swore he would protect that kid. He made him a suit that was practically invincible. That suit was meant to save him. It was meant to take him home.
But Peter didn’t listen. He couldn’t. And Tony never knew why he expected Peter to be taken back home to Queens when he asked Friday to get him there. He should have known Peter would have found a way to stay. Tony should have thought that far ahead and made it so he couldn’t. But Thanos wasn’t a threat at the time. There were no threats. Everyone was fine. Happy. All until that wizard showed up and ruined everything. Shattered Tony’s perfect reality.
Tony ran his fingers along the dirt on the ground. Was it dirt? Or was it . . .
No. He wouldn’t think that far. Because the kid isn’t dead. Neither is Strange or Mantis or Drax. There’s no way. He would get them back. He would find Thanos and . . . what? Kill him? Because that worked so well the first time when they had him pinned down.
There was only one person to blame for this, and that was Quill.
Tony’s face twisted into a fiery rage. He stood up, fists still clenched so tightly, his fingernails dug into his skin. They had one mission. One. Stop Thanos from gaining all the infinity stones, and prevent him from purging the world. That was it. Instead, they practically fell right into his hands, giving him all the stones he needed.
And Quill . . .
Quill let his feelings get in the way of success.
Tony looked around at the wasteland before him. He couldn’t help it when his eyes glanced down at his feet, his mind reeling.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said to nothing. “You weren’t supposed to be here.” He crouched down, letting his fingers graze over the ground. “Why didn’t you just go home, kid? Why do you always have to try and save the day?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to shed a single tear. He would not. If he cried, that meant Thanos won. And this war was far from over.
“How do you expect me to return to Earth without you, kid? What am I supposed to say?” Tony looked up at the golden sky.
This.
This is the color of the sky he was supposed to see after winning. He was supposed to be on Earth, standing with the team, bruised, beaten, and bloody, looking at the sun as it dipped below the horizon, signaling the end of the day.
The end of the war.
He was supposed to see the sunrise, looking out his window as the city began to clean up. He was supposed to see his friends aide those in need. He was supposed to argue with the kid about going home and going back to school and just . . . staying out of harm's way for once in his life. Because his fight was supposed to be over because he won. And there was nothing else he could help do.
But . . . he didn’t expect the kid to listen to that garbage line, either. The kid did what he wanted. Regardless of what Tony advised.
“I never wanted you on the team,” Tony said, looking away from the gold atmosphere. “And this is why.” He closed his eyes. “''But there was an idea. To bring together a remarkable group of people to see if we could become something more. So when they needed us, we could fight the battles that they never could.'” He pressed his lips into a thin line.
Tony shook his head. “You weren’t even there for that, kid. But damn, you should have been.” He sat in silence, wishing he wasn’t saying this. “You probably would have been the only one suitable for the Avengers Initiative. You had - have - the heart. You knew what it meant. And still, that didn’t stop you.”
But I wish it did.
What was he supposed to do when he returned to Earth? If he returned? How could he possibly tell the kid’s aunt that he . . . That Tony lost him? He couldn’t bring that down on her. He wouldn’t.
Which is why he wasn’t going to return. Not without Peter. Not without Thanos’s head in the grasp of his hands.
That thing they did back there? That was a battle. One of many that Tony was sure were happening on Earth. But the next thing they did?
That would be war.
And what is war without sacrifice? He wouldn't lose this time. He would plan. Calculate. Assemble what was left of the Avengers and stop this madness. Bring back what he - and everyone else - lost.
He looked up at the ruins of ships, his feet rooted in place. He wasn’t leaving. Not until he had back the one thing that never listened to him.
“Just hang in there, kid,” Tony said, looking ahead at the burning ruins. “Strange said there was one universe where we won. And I refuse to believe it was this one.”