Lying in the grass, his arms just beginning to disintegrate, Sam tensed with panic and confusion. They’d lost. The realization came to him cold and unwelcome. He shivered as more of him crumbled to ash. He hoped the others would survive. He hoped someone would. As the rest of his body began to disappear, he heard Rhodes calling for him. “I’m here-” he tried to say, but the words stuck in his throat, unable to get any further. The darkness had already closed in around him, consuming him, devouring him, and he was alone.
“Sam? Where are you? Sam, does anyone have eyes on Sam?” Rhodes was trampling through the grass, legs trembling as he searched distraughtedly for his friend. “Rhodes, Rhodes you have to listen to me. He’s gone. Sam’s gone.” Natasha gripped his shoulders as he shook.
“No. No, he’s here somewhere, I’ll find him.” His eyes were glazed over from trying not to cry. Nat fought back her own tears, her gaze drifting to Rogers, frozen with shock, kneeling over Bucky’s ashes.
Her friends, no, they were her family, gone in an instant, reduced to a pile of smoke and tears. And Clint, where was he now. Had he survived? How many people sucked away in an instant, had gone unnoticed?
Thor sat down heavily on a log. How long he’d been there, he didn’t know. But at some point, Rocket joined him, a tiny ball of fur, crumpled and tearstained Without looking up, Thor began to speak, voice choked with tears.
“My people were murdered, my mother was killed by elves, my father died, my best friend was stabbed and I had to watch my own brother be strangled to death. I thought there was no one left I could loose. But the Avengers, they, they were their own kind of family. The worthiest warriors I ever knew, whatever some stupid hammer decrees. Your friend, the tree, he gave his arm for my weapon. And I barely knew him.”
“He was just a boy.” Rocket said, his body leaning limply on Thor’s arm.
“I lost him once before, when he was bigger. He sacrificed himself for me, and the rest of them. But then one of the sticks grew.”
“He was a stupid adorable little tree. Just a little twig, and then he was sprouting branches and now he’s gone.” Rocket waved his hands around sadly in a feeble attempt to articulate his thoughts.
“And there’s no twig this time. He can’t come back. I was supposed to take care of him. He was just a sapling.” Rocket was crying now, his words coming out thickly through the haze of grief. Thor understood nothing of the rabbit’s garbled words, but he felt the loneliness in each syllable and comforted the creature.
Okoye walked solemnly over to Natasha, her features sunken with grief and hopelessness. She opened her mouth a few times before being able to produce words.
“I- Our King is gone. I don’t know what to do now.”
The remaining Avengers slowly trudged back to the Wakandan palace, stepping over the dead bodies, occasionally checking for a pulse, as the ashes of their friends slowly scattered in the wind.
Bucky.
A world without Bucky.
It had been two days since it happened, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea.
I’m with you til the end of the line
Was this the end? Was this it? Was the last word he would ever hear uttered from his friend’s beautiful lips be his own name? A question, a plea for help.
Would the last glimpse he had of Bucky’s face be of despair and fright, confusion and apprehension?
It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not after everything they’d suffered through, not after all they’d gained back, inch by inch.
He’d lost him once and he’d never forgiven himself.
And when he found him again, he was sure this time they’d stay together.
He had fought for him, sacrificed everything.
He’d agreed to the cryogenic chamber, watched uneasily as Bucky was sealed away.
He’d approved Bucky’s recovery at Wakanda, knowing he’d be in safe hands.
But now Bucky was gone.
And what remained of Steve was just a hollow shell of regret.
He pretended to sleep, crying silently into a bed that only served to remind him of the rickety bunk they’d shared back in Brooklyn. His mind was on repeat, an endless montage of Bucky laughing, Bucky walking, Bucky smiling at him as if he was the moon and stars. Stolen moments in an alley, a hindering kiss, Bucky falling from the train carriage. Bucky teasing him, fighting by his side, Bucky’s hair, his lips, his skin.
Tony let out a soft breath of shock, his eyes wide and fixated on the place where Peter had lain in his arms. He’d been so afraid, so terrified, quivering as his fingers dug into Tony’s back, as he clung to Tony for support, begging him for help, to make it stop, make it go away. His tiny voice trembling.
I don’t want to go.
Please, Mr Stark.
I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to go.
I’m sorry.
He was just a kid. Just a boy, trying his best to save the whole world, the whole universe. Tears snaked their way down his face, and he let them. They trickled down to land in the pile of ash that was Peter, Peter, his beloved Peter, who he’d been so proud of.
Please, Mr. Stark-
He’d been in charge of protecting him. He’d failed, he’d let Thanos win, and now Peter was dead, this was all his fault. This was all his fault.
I’m sorry.
Tony Stark shivered as wave after wave of grief hit him.
I don’t want to go