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Thanos was gone. They failed to stop him.
Tony had his hand on his wound. He could feel the blood drop from his fingers.
At first, he was scared for his life. He had been shocked to realize that a deadly attack had hit him. He did not want to die. That's what he thought, first. It's a human thing to think of.
Then his thoughts were wondering about Rhodes. Pepper. Happy. He knew that becoming an Avenger would put them in danger. That he could lose them at any moment. Tony was afraid of never seeing them again. They were the closest thing to a family. And now that Thanos has gone to Earth, they could be killed too.
Tony closed his eyes, trying not to think of all the people there who needed help. How many people are already dead? How many lives are wasted?
They were not fast and strong enough. If anything happened, it would be on them — on him. It was all his fault.
Strange gave the stone away because of him. Thanos is practically invincible now. Tony didn't know what was happening on the Earth. He hoped the Avengers were there. Stand in front of all those bastards. It should be. They couldn't lose. It would be awful. Because evil isn't a winner.
The truth is that Tony didn’t want to imagine a world reduced to chaos. Hadn't they managed to reach the only future where they were supposed to win? It would seem. Tony tried to see through Strange's eyes. The wizard was quiet. Was he resigned to his fate? The battle against Thanos had been brutal, arduous; none of them were speaking. Maybe it was a miracle that they were all alive. For now, at least. Nevertheless, he hadn't the heart to enjoy being alive right now. A shiver ran down Tony's back, making him wince in pain. Though his body was partially numb.
“Mr. Stark…?” a shy voice interrupted his thoughts.
Peter.
God, he brought the kid in this. He shouldn’t be here — on a fucking unknown planet, wondering how to save the world. It wasn’t his job.
Again, if anything happened, it would be on him. Peter was under his responsibility. He was the one who had named him an avenger, after all.
The kid was sometimes annoying and chatty, but he had heart. Courage. He was a good person. Worthy of wearing the title of a hero. Tony was happy to have met him, and to have him under his protection. Share his experience was something, like tease Peter when he is in his lab. Whether he likes it or not, the kid had him wrapped around his little finger.
Peter was gazing at him with big brown eyes. He looked as lost and as scared as Tony was. After a moment of silence, Peter reached out to Tony to help him get up — pain made him flinch and wince once again. His wound was still bleeding.
Thunder rumbles.
“I’m okay… It’s just a little scratch…”
The man could see the worry in the spider-kids’ eyes. His hand offered him gentle pressure on his back.
Then, they all eventually assembled.
“Something is happening…”
All the attention was centred on her. Tony knew that she had something special… a sort of power. Not many things still surprised him in this world. Her lips trembled slightly, and she fell. Quill managed to catch her before she could touch the ground. He squatted with a worried look and put a hand on her forehead, still holding her in his arms.
“Mantis ! Hey, c’mon !” Quill urged her, shaking the girl gently.
Was she hurt ? Tony stepped forward.
“Quill… ?”
Drax had an empty look. The oldest Peter was laying Mantis on the floor, his hands holding carefully her head. Then he turns himself toward his friend, standing again. Before he could say or do anything, Drax collapsed on his stomach; a cloud of dust and dirt rose in the air after his fall.
What. The. Hell. Is. Happening.
As if Quill could answer him, Tony gazed at him. But no word was said when he saw the face of the man. They were staring at each other, eyes full of questions. With terror. And he understood. It wasn’t normal. They weren’t sleeping. It’s almost funny the way the brain didn’t want to accept the situation. The reality.
A new step forward ; Quill was breathing heavily, trying to get some answers. Tony does the only thing on his mind: help. Or at least, tried.
“Steady Quill.”
Star-Lord’s shoulders drooped. His whole body turned limp.
“Oh, man…” he whispered.
Then he fell on his knees, gasping for air for a few seconds, and he was now on his back. Still. Quiet.
Briefly, he thought of Thanos. It was him. He had to do something. God… He had to do something.
No… they couldn’t have failed.
“Tony.”
He wanted to ignore the wizard. His tone was confident and resigned. Strange was short of time. And he knew it. Tony looked at him with shaking hands. Hoping now for a miracle. Hoping for the wizard to find a way to save the day. He was so strong… he could have defeated Thanos. He could defeat all of them if he wanted to. He couldn’t—
“There was no other way.”
The man sighed. It was his last breath.
His eyes were now closed as he was falling backwards.
They were on an unknown planet. The Earth was under attack. They have failed to stop Thanos, who was now gone. They were hurt. And most of them just fell... Tony liked when he has control of a situation. Right now, he didn't get it. All of it. What could happen worse?
“Mr. Stark…?”
No.
No way. No. Not the kid. Not him.
Time stopped. So did his heart as he turned towards Peter. The kid was blank. Trembling. Trying to stay upright. Struggling against something unknown. He swallowed nervously, his big brown eyes staring at the dirty floor whilst Tony could hear his jerky breath. Never more than now he did want the kid to be anywhere but here. He had seen too much. He had been through so much. He shouldn’t be here.
“I don’t feel so good.”
The look on Mantis’, Drax’s and Quill’s faces haunted Tony’s mind. Peter had the same fear on eyes. He knew.
“You’re alright.”
It was surreal. Tony was almost tempted to laugh, guessing that all this shit was a dream. A very bad dream. People didn't die like this, for no reason. Not so brutally. Something was wrong... For a moment the man felt himself disconnect.
He heard some gasps from Peter who was now watching him. Still afraid. Something bad was going to happen. The kid shouldn't be here.
“I don’t know – I don’t know what’s happening…”
Without thinking, Tony stepped towards Spider-Man whilst Peter staggered towards him. But the kid could not stay up, so he reached for his mentor and dropped into his arms, catching his clothes in despair. The boy's legs didn't have enough strength to bear him. He kept holding himself at Tony with an iron grip, breathing more and more louder and faster.
“I don’t wanna die… I don’t wanna die, sir please—! I don’t wanna die.”
Tony’s heart squeezed painfully. The kid admitted the horrible truth. Tony couldn't escape from this. The others were dead. Spider-Man was dying. The kid was dying.
Realisation hit him hard. He couldn't handle this anymore. Peter's weight adding to his wound led Tony to let them fall on the ground ; he kept a hand behind the kid's head, though. And he saw the fear in the young Avenger’s face. Tears made his beautiful eyes shine despite the darkness of this planet — the orange shades in the sky were reflected on the trails of tears which were now appearing along Peter’s cheeks. His chest was moving up and down too fast. Tony put his left hand on his suit, trying to get the kid’s attention.
Peter made a soft cry. His mouth was open, searching for air.
Death was calling for him.
Tony had already seen it before. He was Iron-Man, a great superhero. However, he was useless and weak right now. He didn’t know what to do at all.
“Pete… hey, underoos. Look at me.”
More tears. More despair.
“Kid !” he snapped.
He managed to get a reaction: Peter flinched. Then he was looking at him, crying quietly.
The kid shouldn’t be here.
“It’s okay. You’re alright. You’re alright, Pete. Just look at me, ‘kay ? Everything is gonna be just fine…”
The teenager's breath became laborious. As if he couldn't do it anymore: the simple act of breathing was too hard and exhausting. He wrapped his fingers around Tony's left wrist to have something to hold — anything that could maintain him here.
“I’m sorry.” said Peter as he blinked a few times, tears still escaping from his eyes.
Tony wished he could have found what to say to his protégé. He wished he could have made things better for the both of them. Instead, he let his own fingers catch Peter’s to kiss the boy’s hand.
The body next to him suddenly turned still. The big brown eyes were empty, all traces of shine or life vanished from his features. His fingers didn’t hold him anymore — they were limp.
That was it.
Like the others, Peter died. Tears dropped on his cold face from Tony’s cheeks. For a moment, he was waiting for his own death.
But it never came.
Nebula may have been there, but Tony was alone. Eyes closed, he thought about the painful truth: the worst part isn’t to see them dead. It’s being the one who survived.