Archive of Our Own ^beta

The air surrounding him is thick with the scents of battle; blood, ozone, and the scorched-earth smell that’s embedded so deeply in Steve’s memory that he can often smell it in his dreams.  The noise, nearly deafening only seconds before, has suddenly faded into an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional snap of a twig or soft whisper carried on the breeze.

They seem to be waiting.  But for what, Steve’s not sure.

All he knows is that for the entire battle with the hideous six-legged creatures that could’ve been ripped right out of one of Peter’s beloved sci-fi films, Steve feels like he’s been fighting with one hand tied behind his back.  The brief elation he felt when Thor touched down in Wakanda—in such dramatic fashion that even Thanos’ minions seemed awed by him—has all but faded, the anguish and dread he’s been trying to stamp down starting to break through the internal dam he built to contain it.

And he can’t let that happen.  He just can’t.

Not when they’re literally fighting for the preservation of the universe as they know it.

How could I have been so damn naive? Steve thinks as he adjusts his shield.  He glances around the vast battlefield, littered with the carcasses of the hideous warg-like creatures.  Today, of all days?

It’s a futile question, and Steve knows it.  But the guilt is still hot enough to burn a hole deep in the pit of Steve’s stomach.  One that’s been steadily growing ever since he watched his husband and son get beamed aboard an alien spaceship.

Why didn't I tell him to go home?

Why, why, why?

It’s all my fault!  Oh God, it’s all my fault!

Instead of ordering Peter to stay back when he swung right into the middle of the action without invitation or warning, Steve encouraged him, believing that since they were caught off-guard and the rest of the team was still en route, that they needed all the help they could get.  And Tony, despite the misgivings he had made so plainly clear just three days earlier, acquiesced, telling Peter to go after Dr Strange in order to protect the necklace he was wearing.

The necklace that he explained contained the Time Stone, one of six Infinity Stones that Thanos was searching for in his quest to rid the universe of half its life.

Despite his lingering concerns, Steve was initially very proud of how seamlessly Peter blended into the fight, showing off all of the skills they had been working on during training and keeping his running snarky commentary to a minimum.  But then, barely a blink of an eye later, Steve could only watch as Peter grabbed hold of Dr Strange with his web, and proceeded to get caught in some tractor-beam-type thing that began carrying him up towards the Q-shaped alien ship.  With his very next breath, Steve screamed for Tony to get to Peter, to save him before the ship could take hold of him.

And of course, being the incredible father that he is, Tony didn't hesitate for a second, rocketing towards Peter as fast as his suit could go.

Only, it wasn't quite fast enough.  And only a few seconds later, Steve was left standing there on the debris-laden street, watching in horror as the ship carried his husband and son away, Tony’s final message that he would send Peter home as soon as he found him echoing inside his ear.

Only, Peter never made it home.  And neither did Tony.  As far as Steve knows, they're both still on the ship.

And now, Steve can only imagine where that ship has gone.

And, given the current state of his mind, what Steve could imagine was not at all good.

Of all the days for Peter to be stubborn… 

Stubbornness that he gets from Steve, as Tony so often likes to point out.

I’m sorry, Tony!  I’m so sorry!

Oh God, please keep them safe!

The thoughts grow wings and take flight before Steve can stop them, pulling a ragged gasp from his throat.  Steve presses his palm to his chest, directly over the nanotech star of his uniform as he breathes in, trying to pull himself back together.  The entire team— but it’s not the entire team! —is looking to him to lead them through the biggest battle of their lives, which means he cannot allow his personal feelings to get in the way of what needs to be done.

He can’t be a husband and father right now.  Until the battle is over, Steve can only be Captain America.

There’ll be plenty of time for apologies and second-guessing—and even more discussions about Peter’s place in the Avengers—once Peter and Tony are back, safe and sound.

“FRIDAY?” Steve chokes past his dry throat, because apparently he just can’t help himself.  “Any word yet on Tony and Peter?”

“I am afraid not, Captain,” replies the UI in her usual Irish lilt, one that reminds Steve way too much of his ma.  “There's been nothing from either Boss or Young Peter since the ship left Earth’s atmosphere.”

Steve scrubs his palm down his face, turning as he hears King T’Challa ordering his warriors to reform.  

The battle must be heating up again. 

“All right.  Let me know as soon as you—”

“I will, Captain,” FRIDAY cuts in.  “I promise.”

“Right.  Thanks.”

“You are most welcome, Captain.”

“Cap, we’re starting to see movement on the ground again,” Sam suddenly says over the comm, swooping overhead like the most graceful of birds.  “Looks like halftime is over.”

“Copy that.”  Steve looks up as Thor lands a few metres away from James in a flash of sparkling lightning, swinging the massive axe in his hand like a farmer cutting grain with a scythe.

“Sam, reform on my six!” James commands as he takes off from the plain.  Steve flinches as the sound of the War Machine repulsors fill the quieted battlefield, fighting against the urge to search the skies for Tony.

He’s not here, Steve reminds himself.  He’s with Peter.

Oh God, please!  Keep them safe!

Pressing his fingers to his ear, Steve clears his throat.  “Wanda, what’s your status?”

“Um…” Wanda answers, listening as Shuri says something to her.  “She needs more time, Captain.”

“Then we’ll give her as much as we can,” says Steve.  “FRIDAY, how’s it coming with the enemy comms?”

“I’m almost there, Captain,” replies FRIDAY.  “Another minute please.”

“Copy that,” Steve says as he slams his shield into one of the wargs, sending it flying.  He looks up, alarmed to see the very same monstrous alien that Tony and Peter fought during their skirmish in the roundabout marching alongside the female who taunted them at the beginning of the battle, his massive pickaxe flying in every which direction.

Guess it’s time for another round, Steve thinks as he tightens his grip on his shield's handle.  He sucks in a deep breath, trying to reach for his last vestiges of strength.  He’s already so exhausted that he’s surprised he’s still upright, his entire body screaming from his constant punching and batting and twisting and ducking as the wargs rampaged during their relentless earlier assault.

But there’s no way he can give up now.

As long as the Mind Stone still rests in Vision’s forehead, the battle will continue.

“Sam, James, circle round back and cover us from behind,” he says over the comm.  “The rest of you, fall in.  Keep your eyes up and stay sharp.  This isn't over yet.”

Following a chorus of “Copy that”, Steve launches his shield at another warg and turns on his heel, racing back to join his teammates.

“Stevie!” Bucky calls before Steve can reach him, his warning coming just in time for Steve to duck underneath the monster alien’s flying pickaxe.  Grunting, Steve spins around, tossing his shield towards another pack of wargs as King T’Challa yells for the attack to begin.  Steve’s heart starts to thud as the Wakandan war chant ripples across the plain, quickly drowned out by the warriors’ thundering footsteps.

“Die, space dogs!” Steve hears from somewhere off to his left.  He whips around, his eyes going wide as he finds Bucky holding the giant raccoon that arrived with Thor by its scruff as they turn in circles, shooting as they go.

Well, that’s not quite the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, Steve thinks as he ducks to avoid being flattened by a warg.  A second later Thor lands a few metres away, grunting as he swings his giant axe at the seemingly endless targets.

“Ah, Captain.  So good to see you again,” he says politely, as though it hasn’t been almost two entire years since Steve’s last seen him.

“Ahh, yeah,” replies Steve as he punches another warg right in its snout.  “We thought you were dead!”

“Oh, yes.  But I am afraid the reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” Thor says as he swings again, sending a warg careening into two others.  He pauses, tilting his head.  “That is how the saying goes, is it not?  I remember Starkson telling it to me, but for the life of me I cannot seem to recall the exact wording he used.”

A short laugh forces its way from Steve’s throat.  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it goes something like that.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Thor says.  He holds out his arm, indicating the walking tree standing a metre or two off his right flank.  “And please, allow me to introduce my new friend here.  This is Tree.”

The tree, who also arrived with Thor during his grand entrance, turns, nodding in Steve’s direction just as its right arm— branch? —extends, spearing through four of the wargs.

“I am Groot!” he says, holding up the wargs in triumph.

“Um… hi,” Steve says weakly, pressing his palm to his chest.  “I am Steve Rogers.”

Okay, now that might be the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Oh, Captain, would you happen to know where I might find Thanos?” Thor asks, like he’s asking Steve to pass the salt or something.  “I would like to have an impolite conversation with him.”

The dread Steve’s been trying so hard to stamp down suddenly surges, nearly bringing him to his knees.  The entire battle, Steve’s been waiting for Thanos to show up, to make his attempt to steal the Mind Stone from Vision’s head.  And the fact that he hasn’t yet arrived could only mean that he chose to go after the Time Stone first.

Which means—

Oh God! Steve cries inside his mind.  Please, let them be okay!

“Captain, are you all right?” Thor asks as he takes out yet another of the ugly creatures.  “I’m afraid that your cheeks have lost what little colour they once held.”

“I’m fine!” Steve chokes out.  “It’s just… we haven’t seen Thanos yet.  Tony and Peter were trying to protect the Time Stone in New York when they were taken aboard one of Thanos’ ships, so if I had to guess, I’d say that Thanos decided to go after that stone first.”

Thor’s face turns grim as he tightens his white-knuckled grip on his axe.  “Yes, that would make sense.  Thanos killed my brother and easily vanquished Hulk, so I am not certain that Stark and Starkson alone would be able to present an opposition that is more formidable than this grand army.”

Steve grunts as fear spears his chest.  Thor has seen Thanos up close, has already fought against him and lost.  And if he, an actual god, and Hulk, the strongest creature that Steve’s ever seen couldn't beat him, then how in the world can Tony and Peter?

Oh God, please!  Let them be safe!

He’s just opened his mouth to attempt to reply when Sam comes over the comm.

“Cap, we’ve got new incoming!” he cries as he swoops down, flying parallel to the force shield circumventing the battlefield.  Steve’s heart jumps into his throat as the trees outside the shield are suddenly engulfed in flames, consumed by some kind of gigantic machine that looks like a bunch of razor-sharp clock gears.

“They’re like goddamn garden rotors!” adds Sam, his dual guns blazing as he falls into line behind James.

“Oh God!” Steve manages to say as the gears burrow down into the ground, resurfacing a few seconds later on the inside of the shield.  But before he can say anything else, he’s drowned out by T’Challa, ordering his warriors to back away.

“Fall back!” the king commands.  “Fall back now!”

“Sam, focus your fire on their left flank!” James calls as he flies up next to the machine’s right side.  “Let’s take it out!”

“I’m trying!” replies Sam as he empties an entire mag into one of the rotors.  “This damn thing’s too strong for these bullets!”

“Shit, Cap, these things are coming right for us!” Clint cries.  “We’ve gotta get outta here—!”

Clint cuts off as Wanda suddenly appears, her palms glowing bright red as she touches down onto the plain.

“Wanda!  Take it out!” yells Natasha as Wanda pushes the red light underneath the churning gears.  After raising them up at least three stories high, she drops her hands, bringing them crashing back down right on top of an entire squadron of wargs.

“Why was she up there all this time?” Steve hears General Okoye ask.  “If she’s our most powerful warrior, then—”

“Quiet!” Steve hisses as another voice shoots through the chaos like a bullet directly into his ear.  The very same voice he’s already battled twice since Tony and Peter disappeared on that ship.

“She’s on the field,” the female alien says.  “Take it.”

Oh no!

The words are still ringing in Steve’s ear as he takes off running towards the palace, cursing his own ignorance as he swings wildly at the incoming wargs.

Damn it!  Why didn't I see that coming?

He has to admit it’s a brilliant plan.

Thanos’ troops used the rotor machines to deliberately draw Wanda away from guarding Vision because they know she’s powerful enough to destroy the Mind Stone.  It’s something Steve’s seen a hundred times, both in person and in movies.

Simple, and remarkably effective.

And also something he should’ve deciphered long before now.  He’s just way too compromised to think clearly.

“Shuri!  They're coming for Vision!” Steve cries, grunting as he punches another warg across the jaw.  “Wanda, you’ve gotta hurry and get back there before they—!”

He breaks off as Vision touches down to his left, swinging his arm to take out an alien just before he would’ve speared Steve right through his chest.  The alien immediately scampers back to his feet, lunging the curved end of his spear into Vision’s abdomen before Steve can even react.

“I thought you were formidable, machine,” the alien says as he wraps his scaly fingers around Vision’s throat.  “But you are dying, just like any man.”

“No!” Steve cries as the alien pulls out his spear, leering over Vision as he falls to the ground.  Lunging forward, he tackles the alien, knocking the spear from his hands as he pummels him with his shield and fist.

“Get outta here!” he screams at Vision, his Captain’s composure all but gone.  “Vision, you gotta get back to—!”

He’s cut off as the alien grabs him by the collar of his uniform and slams him down onto a fallen log, knocking all of the air from his lungs.  Steve immediately panics as he struggles to draw in air, memories of his severe childhood asthma attacks careening to the forefront of his mind as the alien crawls over him, pressing the shaft of his spear directly against Steve’s windpipe.

No! his mind cries as he tries desperately to get his fingers underneath the spear.  I—I can’t—not yet—not without—!

He’s just barely clinging to consciousness when the spear is suddenly stripped away, the metal searing across his throat like a burning hot iron.  Coughing and sputtering, Steve rolls onto his side, blinking as he watches Vision hook the alien with his very own weapon, raising him up like a stuck pig before tossing him into a clump of trees.  Then he offers Steve his hand, pulling him up to his feet as Steve wipes the tears from his eyes.

“What’re you doing out here?” Steve forces past his damaged throat, which feels like it’s been attacked by a cheese grater.  “You're supposed to be—!”

“My life is not more important than yours, Captain,” replies Vision in his maddeningly neutral tone.  “Therefore, I will not—”

“Steve!  Something else is happening!” Bruce suddenly cuts in as he clomps his giant armoured suit to a halt a few metres in front of Steve.  Steve stops short, his heart clenching when the wind begins to mysteriously swirl, churning up dirt and leaves in its wake.

It is very, very strange for someone besides Tony to be wearing Iron Man armour, and Steve does not like it.

Not one bit.

“Oh God,” Bruce adds grimly.  “Steve, he’s coming!”

“What?  Who’s coming—?”  Steve’s question dies on his lips as he whips around to find a black cloud-like phenomenon forming near the destroyed force shield.  Instinctively, he tightens his grip on his shield, hoping against hope that he’s wrong.

But he’s not.  Because only a second later, a huge purple creature steps through the cloud, his left hand and forearm covered with a golden gauntlet embossed with five coloured stones.

Including the green Time Stone.

Oh.  My.  God.

“Yep,” says Bruce.  “Steve, that’s him.”

Steve gulps and nods, wiping the sweat and grime away from his eyes as he tries to force his mind to think.   About anything other than the fact that even though Thanos is here, Tony and Peter are still not.

This doesn't mean anything.  It just means that—

Oh God, please!  Let them be safe!

He turns to Vision, raising a shaking finger.  “You need to get your ass back up to that lab!”

“Captain, the lab has been destroyed,” Vision says, clutching his damaged abdomen.  “And I will not hide myself away while my compatriots are in danger.”

“Vision—!”

“No, Captain!” yelps Vision as Wanda lands next to him.  “I will not—!”

“Steve?” Bucky calls over the comm.  “What’s going on?”

“Thanos is here,” Steve says.  He squeezes his eyes closed, trying to school his features back into his Captain mode.  “I want everyone on my position.  From what Bruce’s told us, this guy really packs a wallop, so wait for my mark.”

“That might be understating it a bit, Cap,” Bruce says as the rest of the team falls into line behind Steve, including T’Challa and General Okoye.

Sucking in as deep a breath as he can, Steve raises his shield and takes one step forward.

“Mark.”

The word has barely passed through his lips as Bruce comes around from Steve’s left flank and raises his left arm, the repulsor whine crescendoing as he hurtles towards Thanos.  But instead of flattening the big purple beast, Thanos simply raises his own left arm, the blue gem glowing brightly inside the gauntlet as Bruce passes completely through him and ends up embedded inside a wall of stones, almost like a fossilised bone.

“No!” Steve cries as he lunges for Thanos, only to be lifted right off of his feet and tossed end over end to the ground.  Stunned, Steve pushes himself onto his elbow just in time to watch Thanos grab T’Challa around his neck, throwing him to the ground in a haze of shimmering purple.

“Captain, our weapons are useless against such a creature!” FRIDAY yelps into his ear.  “There is no other choice!”

“Oh God,” Steve croaks as Sam, James, Okoye, Bucky, and Natasha are all tossed aside as if they’re nothing more than rag dolls, falling to the ground in heaps of limbs.  Steve’s belly gives a violet swoop as he rushes forward, managing to knock Thanos’ arm away with his shield just long enough to take a hard swing at his head.  The blow is as strong as Steve’s able to deliver, but it barely registers with Thanos as he draws back his left arm, the purple stone blinking in the sunlight peeking through the tree branches.  Steve cries out as he lunges for the gauntlet, his shield clattering to the ground as he grips the gauntlet with both hands, trying desperately to keep the monster’s fingers from curling in.

“No!” he says through his clenched teeth.  “I won’t let you!”

Thanos snarls as he struggles to form a fist, his brow furrowing as a beam of shimmering red light appears off to Steve’s right.

It’s Wanda, attempting to destroy the Mind Stone in Vision’s head.

Oh no! Steve thinks as he tightens his grip on the gauntlet, trying to take advantage of Thanos’ temporary distraction.  How did it come to this?

How did things manage to spiral so badly so as to force Wanda to have to sacrifice the person she loves most in order to save half the universe?

It’s just not fair.   No one should ever have to make a choice like that.

Chancing a glance over, Steve’s heart nearly cracks down the middle at the anguish on Wanda’s face.  Like her entire world’s being destroyed right before her eyes.

She’s so brave.  Far more brave than someone her age should have any need to be.

I’m so sorry, Wanda, he thinks.  It shouldn’t’ve come to this.

Could Steve do the same?

If it came down to it, could he sacrifice Tony or Peter if it meant certain victory?

He honestly doesn't know.

Tearing his eyes away from Wanda, Steve focuses back on Thanos just as the giant plants his feet, bearing down as he increases the pressure on Steve’s hands.  Steve’s hold on Thanos’ fingers stutters, his feet beginning to slip on the spongy ground as his arms start to violently shake.

I won’t! he desperately thinks as he lets out a harsh, drawn-out grunt.  I won’t let you win!

And then, just as Steve’s strength reserves are reaching their end, Thanos suddenly yanks the gauntlet back, knocking Steve off balance just long enough to allow him to draw back his right arm.  Before Steve is able to right himself, there's a flash of bright yellow light a split-second before Thanos’ massive fist connects with the left side of his face, the sickening crack of his shattering cheekbone and jaw barely registering through the blood rushing past Steve’s ears.

He’s unconscious before he hits the ground.

Steve comes to in a rush, grimacing as he attempts to blink his eyes open against the harsh white light beaming down through the treetops.  For a heartbeat or two, he actually wonders if he’s died and gone to the heaven his ma so desperately clung to during his childhood years, but quickly decides against it.

It’s not heaven he’s seeing.  It’s his teammate.

“Thor?” Steve whispers as he attempts to lift his head, dropping it back when his stomach recoils in protest.  He lets out a pained groan as he slowly rolls onto his side, squeezing his eyes back closed as he attempts to regain control of his senses.

“FRIDAY?” he rasps, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his cheekbone.  “Am I—what—what’s going on?”

“Your vital signs dipped into critical mode for several seconds, Captain,” replies FRIDAY.  “I am also detecting three hairline fractures of your left cheekbone.  I would advise caution.”

“Sure,” Steve says, even though he knows it’s pointless.  Working his right hand free, he gingerly feels along his bruised cheek, wincing as his fingertips pass over one of the breaks.

He hasn’t been hit that hard since… well… not since he fought the Winter Soldier on that D.C. freeway.  And not even Bucky’s vibranium fist had packed this much of a wallop.

“Mmm,” Steve groans as the beam of light grows impossibly brighter.  Breathing in deeply through his nose, Steve starts to peel open his eyes, a millimetre at a time.  His hearing is still dulled by the roar of blood rushing past his ears, but he’s still able to make out the whoosh of Thor’s giant axe as it travels down the beam of light towards Thanos, followed by Thor himself.

And the sickening thunk a couple seconds later as it buries its blade right into the purple beast’s chest.

“Oh!” Steve says on a gasp as Thor lands in front of Thanos, his face filled with so much malice that he’s almost unrecognisable.

“Thanos killed my brother,” Thor told Steve shortly after he arrived in Wakanda.  Which meant that from that moment on, Thor was seeking revenge.

“I told you you would die for that,” Thor says as he pushes the blade of his axe further into Thanos’ chest.  Thanos lets out a harsh cry of pain as Thor’s fingers curl around the back of his neck, one so horrible that Steve shivers.

It doesn't matter, though.  None of it does.

They’ve won.

Against the almost overwhelming odds stacked against them, they’ve won.

“No,” Thanos suddenly says, so low and eerie that Steve’s blood turns to ice.  He attempts to say more, his ugly lips flapping as disgusting gurgling noises spout from his throat.

“What?” Thor asks, frowning.

Thanos breathes in, his head tilting as his eyes flick to his left arm.

“You should’ve gone for the head!”

And then, to Steve’s utter horror, Thanos raises his gauntlet-covered left hand embossed with all six— but how in the hell did he get all six?— of the glowing Infinity Stones, and snaps his fingers.

“No!” Steve and Thor cry in unison, right before a blinding white light fills the entire plain.  It dissipates a few seconds later to show Thanos staring down at his smoking left hand, and the gauntlet that’s now fused to his skin.

“What—?” Thor croaks as he steps back in shock.  “What did you do?”

When Thanos doesn't answer, Thor demands it again.  “What did you do?”

But Thanos, who’s either too stunned or too injured to respond, simply looks down at the axe still poking out of his chest, raises his left arm, and disappears backwards through a portal, the axe falling to the ground as it closes.

For a moment, Steve is frozen, absolutely convinced that his eyes are playing tricks on him.  

Because it can’t be right.  Wanda destroyed the Mind Stone, so how could Thanos have possibly gotten his hands on it?

But even besides that, there’s something else.  Something that Steve’s swirling mind and throbbing head can’t quite wrap around just yet.

He only knows that it’s wrong.

Finally able to blink, Steve groans as he struggles to his feet, his legs screaming for mercy as he forces them to bear his weight.

“Thor?” he asks, the searing sharp pain in his cheekbone bringing tears to his eyes.  “Where’d he go?”

When no reply comes, Steve tries again.

“Thor?  Where’d he go?”

But the stunned god only shakes his head, his eyes trained on the axe lying on the ground.  Grabbing his shield, Steve takes a step towards him, his heart threatening to burst from his chest when he suddenly hears Bucky say his name behind him.

“Steve?” he says as he looks down at his hands, so timid and frightened that Steve’s heart skips at least three beats.  In his right hand he’s carrying the custom-made sniper rifle that Tony built for him, while his left—is no longer there.

“Wha—?” Steve whispers as Bucky attempts to take a step towards him, only for his left leg to break apart like burnt paper.  Steve whimpers as Bucky falls flat on his face, the rest of his body disintegrating into nothing but a pile of ash in the span of about three heartbeats.

“Bucky?” Steve rasps as he pitches forward, falling onto the ground next to what used to be his oldest friend.  He reaches out a shaking hand, touching the ash sprinkled across the ground like he’s afraid it’s going to burn him.  Then he looks up at Thor, who’s still staring down at his axe, like he’s gone catatonic.

No, no, no, no, no!

This can’t be right!

“Thor?” Steve forces out.  “What—what just happened?”

Screams ring across the stilled air before Thor can answer, each piercing Steve’s heart like a bayonet.

Oh my God!  Did we just… lose?

Not sixty seconds ago, Steve was so convinced they had won.

So convinced that his team vanquished Thanos, just like they’ve vanquished all the other villians they've faced.

Because they had!  Against almost overwhelming odds, they had won!

So what on Earth happened?

In all the time Steve’s been leading them, no matter how steep the odds have seemed, the team that he’s so carefully cultivated since the Battle of New York hasn’t lost a single battle.

They’re the Avengers, and the Avengers don't… lose.

“Thor?” Steve asks again, gulping as panic starts to bubble up from the pit of his stomach.

This can’t be right!

Because if Bucky can just… disappear like he did, then who’s to say that Tony—or, or Peter—?

Oh God!

“Thor, what just happened?” Steve demands in his Captain’s voice, or whatever’s passing for his Captain’s voice at the moment.

Finally, Thor shakes his head and turns to face him, his face as grey as the blade of his fallen axe.

“I should’ve gone for the head.”

Two Weeks Later.

Steve slumps back into his chair, scrubbing his palm down his grizzled face as the screen in front of him fades to black.  Spending the last two weeks helping world and military leaders coordinate logistics for the remaining people of Earth has had the desired effect of keeping him busy, but it still hasn’t been enough to keep his mind off of the question that plays on a continuous loop.

Are Tony and Peter still alive?

If it wasn't for Carol Danvers, who’s sudden appearance one chaotic evening set off an entire cascade of emotions Steve’s been trying like hell to avoid emoting, Steve isn't sure he would still be sane.

It’s as if instead of him fading into ash, Thanos’ snap transformed Steve from a man made of flesh and blood into one made of porcelain.  Ready to shatter at the softest, simplest touch.

As it is, Carol’s gracious offer to search for the spaceship carrying Tony and Peter is currently the only thing keeping Steve from completely falling to pieces.  He hasn’t been eating or drinking enough, his knuckles are bruised and scabbed over from his daily three-hour sessions with the punching bags in the gym, and he’s so exhausted that he’s surprised he can still walk, much less converse with various world leaders.  Since the battle, sleep has been laughably out of the question, with most nights finding Steve aimlessly roaming the Compound, trying not to think about his lost husband and son and managing to think of nothing else.

And that doesn't even begin to touch how snippy he’s been with the rest of the team.  

The ones who managed to survive, that is.

Thor, Natasha, James, Bruce, and Clint.

And Tony and Peter, Steve hastily thinks as he rakes his fingers through his hair, shuddering at how greasy it feels.

He has to believe they're alive.  He just has to.

He doesn't know what he’ll do if they aren’t.

“They’re alive,” he says aloud, willing himself to believe it.  “Carol will find them.”

A sudden noise behind him startles Steve, and he turns to find Natasha padding into the lab, carrying two steaming mugs of tea.

“Here,” she says as she sets one mug down onto the counter, curling her fingers around the other.  “Thought you could use this.”

Steve attempts a smile, huffing out a disappointed breath when his lips just don't seem to want to cooperate.  He tries to hide his failure by lifting the mug to his lips, taking a long sip of the oolong and jasmine blend that Nat’s always loved.

And while it’s not quite the same as peppermint, it’s still quite good.  Ever since Peter’s spider bite made him susceptible to poisoning from peppermint, Steve and Tony have had it banned from all the Avengers facilities, so the only time Steve gets to drink his favourite tea blend is during one of his and Tony’s coffee dates.

“Hey.  This was supposed to lift you up a little, not make you feel worse,” Natasha says as she reaches for Steve's hand.  Steve looks down, shuddering as a tear drips off the end of his nose and splashes into his cup.

“I’m sorry, Nat,” he says, swiping away another tear before it can fall.  “It’s—it’s not you, I’m just—”

“You're just worried sick about your husband and son.  Which is completely understandable, by the way.”  Natasha pauses, taking a sip of her tea.  “I just wish you didn't think that you need to keep it bottled up all the time.”

“I don't—”

“Yes, you do, Steve,” Natasha cuts in.  “And I’m telling you that you don't have to.  Not around me, not around your family.  We all know you're scared, and that you're not sleeping, and I’m just here to tell you that you're not alone in this.  We get it.  All of us.”

“Yeah, I know you do,” Steve says quickly, even though he wishes they didn't.  There’s no way he would wish what he’s going through on anyone.  

“It’s just—I just don't know what to do.”   Steve sets his mug down with a clang, trailing his fingertip around the rim.  “I mean, I know no one else does either, but I've never—I just can’t help but think—”

He breaks off, unable to organise his muddled thoughts enough to verbalise them.

That somehow, everything that’s happened since he witnessed Wanda exploding the Mind Stone is just… wrong.

Thanos snapping his fingers, his teammates fading into ashes along with billions of others… 

It’s all just wrong.

Like that one episode of Stargate SG1 where the team returns to the wrong Earth, and doesn't realise it until the small, subtle differences start adding up.

It doesn't help that Steve can’t even explain why he feels this way.  At the moment it’s only a nagging feeling that he can’t seem to shake.

Like the time that he’s in is just a holding pattern or something.

“Well, you know I’ll be here when you're ready to talk,” Natasha says as she takes another sip of her tea.  “But do me a favour tonight, will you?”

Steve shrugs.  “I can try.”

“Try and get some sleep?” she says.  “But only after you take a shower and shave that stubble off your face.  No offence, Steve, but you don’t really rock the scruffy look, and I’m sure Tony will appreciate you looking decent when he gets back.”

Instinctively, Steve scratches at his left cheek.  It’s healed up in the two weeks since Thanos punched him out, but Steve’s noticed that he often touches it, like it’s become a kind of nervous tic or something.

Like he’s testing whether it’s real or not.

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” he says softly, the fact that Natasha said “when” and not “if” not escaping his notice.  He attempts another smile, relieved when it’s a bit easier this time.  “Thanks, Nat.”

“You're welcome,” replies Natasha as she downs the rest of her tea.  “I’ll see ya in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah.”  Steve watches her go, wondering how in the world she’s been able to keep herself from falling apart.  While Wanda may not have been Natasha’s daughter in any official capacity, Steve knows that her loss has been hard on both Natasha and Clint, who’ve acted as surrogate parents to Wanda ever since the team discovered her and her brother in Sokovia.

And then Bucky and Sam.  Steve misses them both so much that it hurts.  Thanks mainly to the support from Peter and Sam, Bucky was finally back to his own self after decades of brainwashing and torture at the hands of HYDRA.  Steve was never more proud of Tony than he was on the day that Tony sought Bucky out and told him he forgave him for killing his parents while under HYDRA’s influence.

The look on Bucky’s face in that moment, as he listened to Tony state those affirming words, ranks in the top five of the most incredible things Steve’s ever witnessed.

With a heavy sigh, Steve gulps down his now-lukewarm tea and glances forlornly around the lab.  He’s been conducting all of his conference calls here instead of in his own office, thinking that he’ll be able to stay more optimistic about Tony and Peter’s return if he’s constantly surrounded by their stuff.

“FRIDAY, is the Compound secure?” he asks as he swipes his wrist across his mouth.  With all of the massive logistical problems that have come from losing half the world’s people, the number of looters attempting to break onto the Compound’s property has quadrupled, requiring Bruce to program in a few extra layers of security.

“Yes, Captain,” replies FRIDAY.  “All security systems are in place.”

“Thanks.”  Then Steve takes a final long look around and exits the lab, heading for his and Tony’s bedroom.

Natasha’s right.  He could definitely use a shower and shave.

Twenty minutes later, Steve’s standing in the middle of his darkened bedroom, staring down at the bed.  Without thinking, he touches his left cheek again, gingerly feeling along the bone as he tries to convince himself to lie down for a bit.

He’s barely touched his bed since he got home, spending the few hours that he’s slept in the armchair by the windows.  But now, as he stares down at it so hard that his eyes drift out of focus, he thinks maybe it couldn't hurt to try.

Tony wouldn't want him to be afraid to sleep in their bed.  He’d want Steve to try and take care of himself.

Peeling back the covers, Steve settles onto the bed, grimacing as his bones and joints sigh with relief.  He grabs onto Tony’s pillow, burying his nose into it and inhaling deeply, allowing the familiar coconutty scent of his husband to wash over him.  Then he tucks it under his chin and closes his eyes, finally giving in to his overwhelming exhaustion.

Steve’s fingers are frozen around the gauntlet, his knuckles and fingertips completely whitened out as he attempts to lock his elbows, trying to keep Thanos from closing his fist.  Bruce told Steve that Thanos can only control the stones if he makes a fist, and Steve’ll be damned if he’s going to allow the massive purple monster to hurt any more people than he already has.

I won’t let you win! he screams inside his mind as he shifts ever-so-slightly, trying to relieve just a bit of the pressure on his biceps.  He’s rewarded with a fierce snarl from Thanos as he shoves down against Steve’s hands even harder.

What? he thinks as a burst of shimmering red light suddenly appears a few metres away.  Planting his feet, Steve chances a glance over, his belly giving a violent swoop as he notices Wanda and Vision, and the beam being aimed straight at Vision’s forehead.

It’s their last resort.  One that Steve had abjectly dismissed when Vision first postulated it before the battle began.

“It’s not going to come down to that,” Steve said.  Because, how could it?

How could Steve, in good conscience, agree to the destruction of one of his teammates?

He couldn’t.

And yet, try as he might to preserve Vision’s life, Thanos was forcing their hands anyway.

He already had the other five stones.  If he got ahold of the Mind Stone, all would be lost.

Steve flinches as Thanos glances over, the furrows in his brow deepening as he realises what Wanda is attempting to do.  Then, just as the Mind Stone explodes in a brilliant flash of light, he looks back at Steve, yanking his left arm down to pull Steve off balance just before he clocks him right across the face with his fist—

Steve wakes with a start, bolting upright on the bed before he even realises what’s happening.  He shivers as a cold sweat breaks out across his body, panting for breath as he cups his left cheek in his hand.

That’s it.

The very moment he’s been struggling to recover ever since they lost the battle.

Why can’t he remember it?

Steve has an eidetic memory.  His entire life, he’s been able to file memories inside his mind like a filing cabinet, ready to pull them out at will whenever the need arose.

So why can’t he remember what happens next?

It just doesn’t make any sense.

With a groan, Steve throws the blankets aside and gets to his feet, grabbing onto the headboard when his legs briefly wobble.  Stumbling into the bathroom, he gulps down a glass of water and splashes some on his face, flinching when he notices his reflection in the small mirror he uses for shaving.

He thought over time that his feelings of… offness would start to dissipate.  But instead, they've only gotten worse.

Steve’s towelling off his face when the mirror starts to shake, accompanied by a low rumble outside that reminds him way too much of one of the London bombing raids during the war.  A heartbeat later he’s inside his closet, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater before racing outside to see what’s going on.

“Oh my God!” Steve exclaims as he sees Carol guiding a dragon-shaped spaceship to a landing near their training dome, her entire body glowing a golden yellow colour.  It’s not the same spaceship that took Tony and Peter away, but Steve’s not about to question it.  Not if it means he’s getting his husband and son back.

Halting a few metres away, Steve barely notices as James, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint all fall in around him, each offering their silent support as Carol steps back from the nose of the ship and the back hatch begins to open.

“Tony?  Peter?  Are you in there?” Steve calls, unable to help himself as the hatch takes forever and a day to finish lowering.  His heart skips as he thinks he hears someone say his name, but it’s too quiet and too garbled for him to be certain.

“Tony—oh!” Steve gasps as his husband, who’s so weak and pale and gaunt that he can barely stand, finally comes into view.  Before Tony can take a step, Steve races up the ramp, catching him in his arms just as his legs give way beneath him.

“Oh God, Tony, I thought—I was so scared! ” he murmurs as he carefully gathers his husband close.  Tony’s arms, as skinny as rails, slowly wrap around his neck as he buries his face in Steve’s chest, his entire body trembling like he’s going to shake right out of his skin.

“S’eve, I didn't—I didn't know—” Tony tries to say.  “I didn't know—if you—if you were—”

“Shh, sweetheart, I’m okay,” Steve says.  “And I've got you.  You're gonna be okay now too.”

“No!” Tony blurts out as he shakes his head, his fingertips digging into Steve's sweater.  “We’re—we’ve—”

“Tony?” Steve says as it finally dawns on him that Peter hasn’t appeared yet.  He turns around, scanning the dark interior of the ship for their son.

But instead of Peter stepping out to meet him, the only other person Steve can see is some kind of blue alien woman, who’s glancing around like she’s never seen Earth before.

“Peter?” Steve calls, his voice catching at the end.  “Little guy, are you—where are you?”

“Oh God,” Tony rasps against Steve’s chest, his head shaking back and forth like it’s trying to wobble right off his neck.  “He’s not—Pete, he—he’s—”

Steve lets out a groan as his blood pressure takes a sudden nosedive, and he pauses at the end of the ramp, looking down at his shivering husband in his arms.

“Tony?  Where is he?”

“He’s gone!” Tony cries, so full of anguish that Steve’s heart cracks right down the middle.  Steve’s arms freeze around Tony, his legs threatening to collapse as Tony lifts his head, his brown eyes radiating such intense guilt that Steve can barely look in them.

“I lost him, honey!  I lost our kid!”

“No!” Steve yelps as Tony’s eyes roll back into his head and he goes limp in Steve’s arms.  “B-Bruce, he’s—we’ve gotta—!”

“All right, we gotta get him inside,” Bruce says as he and James rush over.  Bruce feels in Tony’s neck for a pulse, his lips pursing as he locks eyes with Steve.  “His body’s starting to shut down.  We’ve gotta get him on some fluids ASAP.”

Steve nods rapidly, trying like hell to keep his emotions in check.  He’s already broken down in front of Natasha more than once, he doesn’t need the entire team seeing him collapse.

“All right,” he says as he hefts Tony up.  “Lead the way.”

“Here, Steve, I can take him for you,” James says as he reaches for Tony.  But Steve steps back, shaking his head as he clutches Tony closer.

“No, thank you,” he says, low and tight.  “I’ve got him.”

If anyone’s going to carry Steve’s husband, it’s going to be him.

The next three or so hours pass in a blur as Bruce hooks Tony up to three separate IVs, trying to stave off a potential multi-organ shutdown.  The whole time, Steve doesn't let go of Tony’s hand once, silently begging him not to give up, that they can still somehow get through this living nightmare.

Just how they’ll plan to do that exactly, Steve has no idea.  All he knows is that in his mind, there are simply no other options.

Because it’s wrong.  The whole thing is wrong.

Tony and Peter getting taken aboard that ship, the battle in Wakanda, the destruction of the Mind Stone that somehow didn't happen… 

The devastating loss of Peter, which is too horrible for Steve to even think about at the moment.

All of it is just… wrong.

Leaning forward, Steve presses a kiss to the back of Tony’s hand.  Then he cradles it against his cheek and closes his eyes, swallowing against the tightness in his throat.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  For everything,” he whispers as tears start to leak from behind his eyelids.  It’s all Steve’s fault for allowing Peter to join in the fight, forcing Tony to chase after him into space.  It’s his fault that the team couldn't hold off Thanos’ army long enough for Shuri to remove the Mind Stone from Vision.

And that means Steve has to find a way to fix it.

As soon as Tony is better, they can figure out how to fix it.

Taking care to avoid pulling on any of Tony’s tubes, Steve double-checks the monitors and crawls carefully onto the bed, tucking his husband as close as he dares.

“This isn’t over, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he smooths back Tony’s hair.  “I promise you, it isn't over.  And as soon as you’re better, we’re gonna figure out how to fix it.  We’re gonna figure out how to bring him home.”

Steve’s not surprised when Tony doesn’t respond, completely out cold from the sedative Bruce gave him and his own bone-deep exhaustion.  So he simply presses a kiss to Tony’s cheek and settles in, the dreary beep beep beep of Tony’s heart monitor the perfect metronome for Steve’s weary mind.

They just have to figure out a way to fix things.

Steve simply won’t accept any other alternative.

Three months later.

“C’mon, Tony, please?” Steve pleads as he holds a forkful of lasagna a few centimetres away from Tony’s mouth.  He spent most of the afternoon preparing Tony’s very favourite dinner for him, hoping that the familiar scents and tastes would help boost his appetite a little.

So far it’s been a losing game, but Steve is still trying.

“Just eat a couple more bites?  Please?  For me?”

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes as he takes the fork from Steve’s hand, nearly stabbing himself in the mouth as he takes the bite.

“There,” he says through the mouthful.  “Now will you leave me alone?”

“No, I won’t,” Steve replies, rather petulantly.  “You already spend way too much time alone.”

Tony slumps back against the chair, crossing his arms.  “It’s how I’m best.”

“No, it is not,” Steve says in his Captain’s voice.  They’ve had this argument so many times in the last three months that Steve could probably recite it in his sleep.

If he could ever sleep, that is.

“None of us are better alone, and you know it.  And I’m not about to leave you here by yourself if it means you're just gonna wallow in your own guilt again—”

“Oh, and I suppose you’ve got a better place for me to wallow, huh?” Tony snaps, his eyes shooting darts at Steve.  “You think I should just jump right back into things like the rest of you?  Hmm?  Is that what you think?”

“Tony, we—we’re not just jumping back into things,” Steve says, trying to hide how much Tony’s words sting.  “We—we’ve been trying to help with the logistical stuff, and we’ve still gotta watch out for new villains, and—”

And I’m almost going out of my mind trying to keep you from slipping away on me.

“Well, then you just go right ahead and watch for ‘em, Captain, ” Tony spits out.  “Long as you leave me the hell alone.”

“Tony…”  Steve trails off as he places the fork down on the half-empty plate, the constant dull ache in his chest that he tries so hard to ignore starting to crescendo.

How can Tony not see that Steve’s hurting just as badly as he is?

How can Tony not notice that Steve spends at least half of every single day cajoling him into taking basic care of himself?  Making sure that he bathes on a regular basis, and eats and drinks enough to stay alive?

“I'm not gonna leave you alone,” Steve says softly.  “You're my husband, and that’s not what good husbands do.  For better or for worse, right?”

Tony scoffs.  “Pretty sure whichever saint wrote that drivel didn't mean this kind of worse.”  He turns away from Steve, dropping his head.  “‘Cause there just isn't anything that could be worse.”

Tears well in Steve’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks before he can stop them.  Tony may be drowning in his own guilt, but he’s absolutely right about there being no worse thing.

Steve cannot imagine anything being worse than the loss of his child.

It’s so awful that there’s not even a name for it.  No word or descriptor to indicate that a man who was once a father is no longer.

There’s only pain, so seemingly endless and dark that not even the smallest speck of light could survive.

And the fact that Steve can’t even begin to work through his own grief without Tony’s help and support makes it all that much worse.

It’s like he’s in a holding pattern, just waiting for something else to happen.  And Steve has never, ever been good at waiting.

“Steve, just go away,” Tony mutters, not even bothering to look up.  “I just want to be alone.”

More tears trail down Steve’s cheeks at the iciness in Tony’s voice, and he quickly swipes them away, sniffing.

“All right, but only for a little while,” he finally says.  “I’ll just… go out for a run.”

When Tony doesn't even bother to shrug in response, Steve gathers up the food tray and exits the lab, nearly running headlong into Natasha on his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, Steve,” she says in her soft, slightly raspy voice.  She frowns as she scans Steve’s face.  “You okay?”

“No!” Steve blurts out.  He shoves the tray onto the counter, wincing when the glass of water tips over and spills.  “Oh God, Nat, it’s like he’s slipping right through my fingers, and I don't know how to stop him!  I can’t reach him at all, and I just keep thinking, what if he never gets better?  What then?”

“You shouldn't be thinking that at all, Steve, ‘cause it’s not gonna happen,” Natasha says matter-of-factly.  “All you're doing is torturing yourself.”

“But—!” Steve sputters, pointing in the direction of the lab.  “That’s exactly what he’s doing!  Tony’s torturing himself for something that’s not his fault!”

“And that’s not your fault either, Steve,” states Natasha.  “But somehow, I don't think you believe that one quite as much.”

Steve huffs out a sharp breath, shaking his head.

As much as he hates to admit it, Natasha’s just hit it right on the nose.

But that’s because it is my fault, Steve thinks stubbornly.  I’m the one who ordered Peter to help with the battle, and I’m the one who—

“Nope.  Don't you even go there,” says Natasha.  “You think I can’t see those wheels turning inside that head of yours?”

“Nat—”

“Nope!” she repeats, even more sternly.  “Didn't you tell me earlier you were gonna go for a run today?”

Steve sticks out his bottom lip.  “Yes.”

“Well, it’s a beautiful day outside, so I suggest you take advantage of it,” she says.  “And who knows, maybe it’ll even make you tired enough to get some sleep tonight.”

“Mmm,” Steve mutters.  “All right.”

It’s been so long since Steve went out for a hard run that at first he feels off, like he’s all gangly arms and legs, not too unlike he was after his serum procedure.  But soon enough the runner’s high that he once used to crave kicks in and he takes off, running laps around the Compound’s property until his lungs are threatening to burst.  Panting and dripping with sweat, he traipses back in through his and Tony’s private entrance and heads first to the shower, then to the kitchen, where he cooks enough scrambled eggs and toast to feed an entire army.

And the next day, he does it again.  And again, and again.  And slowly—way too slowly for his own patience, but still—he starts to feel just a tiny bit more normal.

He just wishes that Tony would notice.

Not even the unexpected arrival of Scott Lang in the most hideous brown van Steve’s ever seen and spouting a bunch of nonsense about some quantum something-or-other is enough to tug Tony out of his grief-stricken shell.

So, Steve just keeps on.  Cooking meals for Tony that he barely touches, gently pushing him into the shower every couple of days, begging him to sleep in their room instead of in his lab or on Peter’s bedroom floor.

Pleading with him to please, please unlock the iron cage that he’s built around his heart, so that maybe, Steve can finally leave the purgatory he’s been living in and take a couple steps forward in his own grieving process.

Because Steve can’t do it on his own.  He just… can’t.

It’s like he’s struggling against the very ice that once froze him solid, hoping against hope that he doesn't drown again.

Apparently Dr Erskine’s formula has one flaw after all.  It cannot heal overwhelming grief.

It’s not until one night when he’s forced into bed by a very frustrated Natasha, ordering him to get some sleep or else, that Steve finally realises that he’s rapidly reaching his breaking point.  The day was particularly awful, with Tony flat-out refusing to eat and yet another crisis brewing in what’s left of Sokovia, forcing Steve to spend hours on conference calls with various world and military leaders.  After yet another failed attempt to get Tony to eat, Steve was trying to blow off some steam in the boxing gym, bashing his hands over and over into the tough canvas and leather until they were so bloodied and broken that he almost passed out.  If James hadn’t discovered him when he did, Steve’s not sure if his hands would’ve survived at all.

“You are not to leave this bed until the morning, do you hear me?” Natasha says as she carefully props Steve’s broken left hand up on a pillow.  “If you need to pee or something during the night, then you tell FRIDAY to get me.  Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers, trying to ignore the shame oozing from him like slime.  “Understood.”

Like he’s really going to call Natasha to come help him pee in the middle of the night when he has a husband who’s actually seen him naked hundreds of times.

But that’s assuming that Tony would actually come to Steve if he called for him.

At this point, Steve’s almost certain that Tony wouldn’t even notice if he just up and disappeared.

Faded away, just like Peter.

Why?  Why’d it have to be Peter?

He was the best of us!  Why take him?

“Oh God, Nat, I just miss him so much!” Steve chokes out, because he just can’t keep it inside any longer.  “My sweet boy, he didn't deserve what happened!  He didn't deserve to die when he’d barely begun to live!  And it’s all my fault!  I’m the one who separated us, and now—!”

“There is no way you could’ve known what was about to happen,” Natasha says.  “Steve, you just can’t blame yourself for all of this!”

“But I should’ve been there!” Steve cries, gasping as searing hot pain shoots across his busted-up knuckles.  “I should’ve been there with them!  And maybe if I had, then—then—!”

Then maybe, Tony wouldn’t feel like he has to bear all of his grief by himself.

Maybe he would let me in.

They’re always better together.  Isn't that what he and Tony always used to say?

And where would Steve be without Peter?

Peter, the sweet boy who almost single-handedly helped Steve acclimate to the twenty-first century.  Who taught Steve how to use a microwave and a smartphone and how to buy groceries with a credit card instead of paper money.

Who begged his father to say ‘yes’ once Steve finally got up the courage to ask him for a date, and who helped Steve design Tony’s wedding ring.

The boy who called him, “Papa”.

The thought of never seeing him again, of never seeing his sweet smile and hearing his cheerful, “Hey, Papa!” when Steve picks him up from school.  Of never seeing him tossing a football outside with Bucky and Sam or working on some new gadget in the lab with Tony.  Of never again spending time with him in the kitchen, making up recipes as Steve tells him stories about growing up during the Roaring Twenties and the Great Depression, or sitting down to play a game of chess or watch a movie… 

It’s all just too much.  Even during the war, Steve and his team buried their dead whenever they could, offering their fallen comrades at least that courtesy after they sacrificed their lives.

But this time, there’s nothing to bury.  No way for anyone to find closure.

Peter’s just… gone.   Vanished.  Disappeared.  Leaving only the gnawing, unrelenting grief that’s chipping away at Steve piece by tiny piece.

And he’s just so tired.   So tired of trying to bear the weight of his grief alone.

The very same grief that’s killing Tony.

“Steve, it’s okay to miss Peter,” Natasha murmurs as she blots at Steve’s tears with a tissue.  “I’d be worried if you didn't.  But what’s not okay is you believing that this is all your fault.  Because it’s not.   And there’s no way either you or Tony are going to recover if you both keep insisting on shouldering all of the blame.”

“But—!”

“No!  Just… stop it!” Natasha snaps.  She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a pill the size of a nickel.  “Bruce gave me this before you left the infirmary—”

“No!” Steve exclaims with wide eyes.  “I don't want any drugs—”

“It’s only a sleeping pill, Steve,” Natasha cuts in.  “One powerful enough for a horse, according to Bruce, which means it should be good enough to give you about six hours once it kicks in.”  She pauses, picking up the glass of water from the bedside table.  “So, are you gonna take it, or do I have to force you to?”

Steve frowns, letting out a heavy sigh when Natasha doesn’t budge a single millimetre.

“All right,” he whispers.  He supposes a semi-decent night’s sleep can’t do him anything but good.  Like an invalid, Steve allows Natasha to feed him the pill, obediently swallowing it like he used to swallow his asthma pills as a child.  Then he lays back against his pillow, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his hands as the pill goes to work.  He only vaguely feels Natasha pat him on the shoulder before she exits the room, reminding him again to call her if he needs anything.

He doesn’t even hear the door as it clicks shut.

Steve paces back and forth inside the grand Sanctum, trying to keep up with Tony, Bruce, and Dr Strange as they discuss things that sound like they’re coming from Middle Earth.

It all seems too outrageous to be true.  Surely no creature could possibly be stronger than Hulk?

“Thanos already has the Power and Space Stones, and that makes him the most powerful creature in the universe,” Bruce says.  “And if he gets his hands on all six stones—”

“We’re not gonna let him do that,” Steve says firmly.  “What kind of timeline are we talking?”

“There’s no way to know, Steve,” replies Bruce.   “It literally could be any moment now—”

Before Bruce can finish his sentence, the wind outside suddenly picks up, causing twigs and leaves from nearby trees to flutter through the massive hole in the Sanctum’s ceiling.  The next thing he knows, Tony is racing out the door, stopping so short once he reaches the street that Steve nearly runs into him.  His belly drops to his knees as he looks up and sees the massive round spaceship hovering in midair, and the two aliens who beam down onto the street a few seconds later.

Steve’s not prepared for a fight.  Not against aliens.  

He doesn't even have his shield with him.

Why didn't he ask Tony to grab his shield when he met them all at the Sanctum?  Or even his uniform?

His new nanotech suit would definitely be handy right about now.

“Honey, Pete’s out there, riding on that goddamn school bus,” Tony says, laced with worry.  “We gotta get him back to the Tower.”

“Copy that,” Steve says as he pulls out his phone.  “FRIDAY, I need you to tell Peter that as soon as he arrives at the museum to just stay put, okay?  I’m gonna—”

“I’m sorry for interrupting, Captain, but Young Peter has already left the school bus,” replies FRIDAY.   “I believe he is en route to your location.”

“What?” Tony exclaims.  “No, no, no, FRI, you gotta tell him to turn his ass around right the hell now!”

But even as FRIDAY makes the attempt, and orders the rest of the team to report ASAP, Steve knows it’s of no use.  For the last several months, Peter has begged Steve and Tony to allow him to participate on real missions, citing his nearly impeccable performances during their training sessions.

And with Steve so hopelessly unprepared, having Peter assist Tony in keeping the fighting at bay until the rest of the team arrives could only be useful.

So when Peter swings into view shortly after the aliens begin their attack, Steve orders him to assist Tony, hanging back to call the plays from the street and helping to evacuate civilians while he waits for the others to bring him his gear.

He never expects the fight to go so badly.  He never expects Hulk to refuse to come out, leaving Bruce little more than a helpless bystander.  He never expects the aliens to be ten times more formidable than the Chitauri.

He never expects to be still standing there on that street, screaming for Tony to get to Peter before the ship carries him away.

He never expects to be left alone.

If only they’d had more time.

Even just another minute or so would’ve allowed the rest of the team to arrive.

Sixty blasted seconds might’ve made all of the difference.

The landscape shifts suddenly to the Wakandan plain, where Steve’s trying like hell to keep Thanos from closing his fist.  The green Time Stone glints at him from the gauntlet, almost like it’s taunting him.

Reminding him that he needlessly sacrificed his own husband and son in an attempt to protect it.

But it didn't have to be this way! Steve suddenly thinks, grunting as Thanos bears down.  We only needed one more minute!

Steve flinches as Thanos glances over to Steve’s right, the furrows in his brow deepening as he realises that Wanda is attempting to destroy the Mind Stone.  Then he looks back at Steve, yanking his left arm down to pull Steve off balance just before he clocks him right across the face with his fist, and—

“Oh my God!  That’s it! ” Steve blurts as he bolts upright, wincing a second later when his beat-up hands start screaming in protest.  He sucks in a deep breath, kicking himself for not realising it sooner.

It’s the only reasonable explanation for why Steve can’t remember hitting the ground after he was punched by Thanos.  Especially since the only two people who actually witnessed it are both dead.

Thanos used the Time Stone to reverse Wanda’s destruction of the Mind Stone.  

And by doing so, he also inadvertently saved Steve’s life.

All this time, Steve believed he’d only been knocked out by Thanos’ punch, when in reality— no pun intended —he had actually been killed.

Killed, and then brought back to life when Thanos used the Time Stone.

“Oohh…” Steve rasps as a cold sweat breaks out over his body, typical after a bad dream.  But this was no ordinary bad dream.

This was… a plan.

Or at least, the beginnings of one.

Tossing the covers away, Steve stumbles towards the door, swearing as his splinted hands refuse to cooperate with the doorknob.  Once he finally has it open, he first checks Peter’s bedroom, then races down the hall to Tony’s lab, finding Tony sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Peter’s elaborate chemistry set-up.  He looks up as Steve skids to a halt, his eyes widening as he takes in the state of Steve’s hands.

“Steve?” he says hoarsely.  “What—what the hell’d you do to your hands?”

“Nevermind that now,” he says as he drops to his knees next to Tony.  “Look, Tony, I know you’re still not—but right now I really need you to listen to me.  Can you do that?”

Tony shakes his head as he reaches for Steve’s left hand, examining it with a critical eye.  Steve’s throat tightens as he traces the outline of Steve’s wedding ring through the bandage, trying not to think about the fact that it’s the first time Tony’s offered him any kind of tender physical contact since he got released from the infirmary.

“Honey, what—?” he asks as he meets Steve’s eyes.  “What did you do to yourself?”

Steve drops his gaze, his cheeks flushing hot.  “I… uh… I kinda got carried away with the punching bags yesterday, and—”

“Kinda carried away?” Tony exclaims as he cradles Steve’s hand between his own.  “If this is ‘kinda’, I’d hate to see what ‘really’ looks like!  Did you keep any of your skin for yourself?”

“No, I mean, yes, I did, but—”  Steve breaks off, finally allowing himself to appreciate the concern in Tony’s voice, and the touch of his hands holding his.

“Tony,” he says a few heartbeats later.  “I think there’s a way we can fix all of this.”

“Well, of course there is,” Tony says, giving Steve one of Peter’s duh looks.  “It’s called ‘wearing boxing gloves when you box’.”

“No, no, I’m not talking about my hands,” says Steve.  “I’m talking about… this.”   He jerks his head up towards the counter, covered end to end with beakers, flasks, glass tubing, Bunsen burners, and other various chemistry implements.  “I mean, him.  Our son.”   

Instantly, Tony’s face transforms into an expression of such intense agony that Steve’s heart lurches.

“What in the goddamn hell are you talking about—?”

“It’s all wrong, Tony,” Steve says before Tony can get into one of his self-deprecating rants.  “None of this was supposed to happen.  Peter… he wasn’t supposed to die!  None of them were!  We were supposed to win, but…”  Steve pauses, hanging his head.  “I got so caught up in worrying about Peter being in that fight, that I—”

“But you told him he could join it!” Tony yelps.  “ You're the one who said he was okay to help, and then—!”

“You think I don't know that?” Steve cuts in.  “You think I don't think about that every single hour of every single day since that moment?  You think I don't—!”  He sucks in a deep breath, clinging to Tony’s hand.  It won’t do any good if they start trying to one-up the other now.  Not when they’re finally starting to get somewhere.

“Tony, I’ve grieved for our son every single day!” he says.  “There were two whole weeks where I thought I might’ve lost both of you!  But then, when you came back and Peter didn't, I was so torn!  I was so relieved to have you back, but I—I miss our sweet boy so damn much that I can hardly stand it!  And then later, when you could hardly look at me, that’s when I realised that I really did lose the both of you.  It was just in different ways.”

Tony’s silent for a few moments, his fingertips still tracing across Steve’s injured knuckles.

“He broke apart in my arms, Steve,” he finally says, so softly that Steve has to strain to hear him.  “He—he was clinging to me, just like he used to when he was tiny, and—and he was so scared.   He—he didn't want to die.  He kept saying, ‘I don't wanna go, Daddy, I don't wanna go!’  And I—oh God, Steve, he hung on as long as he could, but in the end…”

Steve’s throat is so thick he can barely breathe, much less speak, but he can’t help but gasp when he opens his arms and Tony crawls right into them, tucking his head under Steve’s chin like he always used to.  Steve buries his nose into Tony’s hair, inhaling so deeply that he gets lightheaded.

“Oh God, Steve, I begged the universe not to take him.  To keep him whole and take me instead,” Tony sobs into Steve’s chest.  “But—but no one was there to listen.  But… holy shit, honey, you would've been so proud of him.  He—he almost got that damn glove off the monster’s arm.  If he’d’ve just had like three or four more seconds, then… maybe none of this would've happened.  He just… ran out of time.”

I know I would’ve been proud of him, Steve thinks as he trails his palms up and down Tony’s back, trying to ignore the prickly, pins-and-needles pain in his knuckles.  He’s so overwhelmed at finally getting to hold his husband again that he has half a mind to postpone the rest of what he came to say until later.

He quickly decides against it, though.  The sooner they can reverse what happened and get Peter and the others back, the better off everyone will be.

“Tony, it’s not your fault.  None of it,” Steve murmurs as he presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead.  “It—it’s mine.”

Tony lifts his head, frowning.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about exactly what you said,” says Steve.  “You said that Peter would’ve been able to pull off the gauntlet if he’d’ve had more time, but sweetheart, what if the two of you weren’t even supposed to be up there in the first place?  What if we could’ve stopped the fight even before it really got started, right there on that street by the Sanctum?”

Tony blinks, eyeing Steve like he’s just grown a second head.  “Okay, so… I’m gonna ask you again.  What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s the Time Stone, Tony!  If we had just taken the Time Stone and then hustled everyone down to Wakanda right away, then we could’ve given Shuri more time to remove the Mind Stone.  And then—”

“Then Wanda could’ve destroyed it, and Thanos would’ve had no way to reverse it,” Tony says.  “And then—”

“And then Thanos would’ve lost,” Steve concludes.  “Without the Mind Stone, Thanos can’t snap his fingers.  And that means—”

“That means Pete would be perfectly fine.”  Tony sucks in a shaky breath, his lower lip quivering as he locks eyes with Steve.  “There’s still something you're not telling me.”

Steve lets out a sigh.  Tony knows him far too well.

“You mentioned that Peter almost got the gauntlet off of Thanos’ arm,” he says softly.  “Well… I—I kinda tried to do the same, once he got to Wakanda, but… I got distracted by Wanda and Vision, and then Thanos… he punched me.  He punched me, and I dropped to the ground like a sack of flour, and—oh God, Tony, by the time I came to, Thanos had all six stones.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve, you're damn lucky you survived getting punched by that bastard!” Tony exclaims.  “Bruce said that Hulk almost—!”

“But that’s just the thing, sweetheart.  I don't think I did survive,” Steve says.  “I think—I think I died.   And then, when Thanos used the Time Stone, he brought me back to life.”

Tony’s jaw drops open, his brown eyes sweeping across Steve’s face.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as all the colour drains from his cheeks.  “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“I’m as sure as I can be,” replies Steve.  “Tony, I can’t even remember hitting the ground, but I do remember seeing the Mind Stone explode just before his fist connected with my face.  And then when I woke up, Thanos had all six of the stones and was preparing to snap.”

Tony gulps.  “So… you're saying that when Thanos used the Time Stone to bring back the Mind Stone, that he brought you back too?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” says Steve.  “And I know it sounds mad, but—”

“Ehh, it’s not as mad-sounding as you might think,” Tony says quickly.  “But the big, billion-dollar question is, how exactly are you proposing that we fix this?”

“Well… that’s where you and Bruce are gonna have to come in,” Steve says sheepishly.  “I mean, we have Scott here, and he keeps going on about how he’s got that Quantum Tunnel thing in the back of his van, and—”

“That's it,” Tony interrupts, his face alight with the eureka look that Steve feared he would never see again.  His eyes are as wide as saucers as they lock with Steve’s, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.  “Uhh… I'm thinking that Bruce and I need to take a good look at that tunnel.”

Before Steve can react, Tony’s pushing himself to his feet, apparently intending to rush down to Bruce’s room and get started right away.  At the last second, Steve grabs onto his arm, grunting as pain shoots across his knuckles and up his forearm.

“What’re you doing?” Tony asks as he looks down at Steve.  “Don't you wanna get started?”

“Yes, I do,” says Steve.  “But I also think Bruce might not appreciate being woken up at four in the morning.”

Tony grimaces as he glances up at the wall clock.  “Oh, yeah.  Guess I didn't realise what time it was.”

“No, I’m not surprised,” Steve murmurs.  He wants to add that he’s not even sure if Tony knows what day it is, but he doesn’t.

No sense in ruining the first positive interaction he's had with Tony in months.

“Do you think maybe you could come to bed with me?” he asks, quickly adding when Tony’s eyebrows shoot up, “just to get some sleep, sweetheart.  It—it’s just been so long, and… I’d love it if I could hold you for a little while.”

Tony purses his lips, his brown eyes almost shy as they sweep across Steve’s face.

“Steve, I—I’m—”

“No,” Steve says gently.  “Please, don't.  Let’s just go rest for a few hours, okay?”

“All right,” Tony says after a short pause.  “You're sure it won’t make your hands hurt any worse?”

“I’m absolutely sure.”  Steve holds out his arm, allowing Tony to haul him to his feet, then offers him his elbow like he always used to, his heart fluttering when Tony takes it without hesitation.

As they crawl under the covers of their bed, Steve has to hold back his tears as Tony curls right up next to him, his arm flung across Steve’s waist and his head resting on Steve’s chest.

It’s so wonderful to have Tony in his arms again that for a moment, Steve almost forgets how to breathe.

“Steve?” Tony says a few moments later.

“Mmmhmm?”

“I never stopped loving you,” Tony says softly.  “I—I just—”

“Shh, sweetheart, I know,” Steve whispers as he presses a kiss to the top of Tony’s head.  “And I know we have some stuff that we still need to talk about, but I think we should focus on getting our boy back first.  All right?”

He feels Tony smile against his chest.

“You really think we’re gonna get him back?” he asks.

“I do,” Steve says firmly.  “If anyone can figure out this thing called the Quantum Realm, it’s you and Bruce.”

“Yeah, well, first we’ll have to make sure it’s actually functional,” says Tony.  “Which, judging by the state of that van, I’m… well… let’s just say I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Scott told us that the thing spit him out perfectly fine, so I’m guessing it’s still functional,” Steve says.  “But I’m sure you’ll get a good look in the morning.”

“Mmm.”  Tony burrows even closer, burying his face between Steve’s pecs.  “But… Steve, what—what if we try and—and it doesn’t—I mean, if it doesn’t work, I’m not sure—I don't think I could—”

“Tony, it’s gonna work,” Steve says.  “I mean, after everything we’ve been through over the years, can you honestly say that there's no possible chance you and Bruce can figure this out?”

“No, I guess I can’t,” Tony replies.  “But I also know that if you mess with time, it tends to mess back, so—”

“It’s gonna work, Tony, I know it will,” Steve says again, unable to stop the hope blooming deep inside his gut.  “And once it does, Peter and the others won’t even know they were gone.  It’ll be like they were never even snapped.”

“Mmm, true.  And I gotta say, I’ve always loved that giddy optimism of yours.”

“Well, good.”  Steve doesn’t add that there were so many days when his optimism was all but extinct.  When hope was nothing more than a myth, one way too dangerous to even contemplate.

But now, hope, in all of its delicate glory, is really all that they have.  Wrapped up in an ugly brown van.

And so, Steve will embrace it, as tightly as he’s embracing his beloved husband.

As tightly as he will embrace their son, once he comes home to them.

The rest will all fall into place on its own.

Three weeks pass, with Steve listening semi-patiently as Tony, Bruce, and Scott banter back and forth about Pym Particles, Planck Scales, and some principle of uncertainty that Steve can definitely appreciate.  Finally, after Tony’s able to build specialised Quantum uniforms for everyone, complete with wrist devices that act like a time-space compass, and he, Bruce, and Scott are each able to conduct a thorough safety test of the tunnel, Tony deems them ready to go.

The plan is simple.  During the tests, Tony, Bruce, and Scott each travelled back to different times during the battle, trying to find the best moment to get hold of the Time Stone.  It becomes clear after Tony’s test that the ideal time to reenter the battle is right when Steve originally thought, the fight on the streets near the Sanctum.  

“So basically, what we’re doing is this,” Bruce says as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  “Those of us entering the tunnel will retain our memories of what happened the first time around, so as soon as we see what we need to change, we’ll have to jump on it.  That means—”

“That means I’ll be altering the pulse burst frequency of my repulsors just enough so that I can target the beam that carries the wizard up to the ship,” Tony says.  “Once the beam is disrupted, Pete’ll be there to catch him, and Scott’ll also be there to make sure the pendant doesn’t get damaged.  Once we’ve got the wizard and the Time Stone back, we’ll all have to hustle our asses down to Wakanda so Shuri can get going on the Mind Stone.”

“Ah huh,” Clint says warily.  “And you're sure this wizard dude will be up to taking orders from us?”  He glances at Steve, wincing slightly.  “I mean, he used to be a surgeon, right?  And lord knows they don’t like taking orders from anyone.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” agrees James.

“Yeah, well, I’m still sure,” Tony says.  “While we were up there on Titan, Strange used the Time Stone to go through all of the possible outcomes of the battle with Thanos, and his conclusion was there were only two possibilities where we won.”

Scott lets out a low whistle.  “Wow.  How many of ‘em did he go through?”

“Ahh, fourteen million, six hundred and five,” answers Tony.  “But the point is, if Strange is as wizard-y as he says he is, then he should already know this is coming, and therefore should cooperate.”

“All right,” says Natasha.  “So once we’re back, the rest of us are just supposed to sit tight and—”

“Prepare to be portalled,” Clint finishes, shuddering.  “Yeesh.  I hope that’s better than being mind-controlled, ‘cause—”

“It’s just like stepping through a doorway, Clint,” Bruce says.  “Tony, Steve, and I have already done it, and I promise it doesn't even tickle.”

“Oh,” says Clint.  “Not even a little?”

Tony rolls his eyes, prompting Steve to chuckle as Thor clears his throat.

“Yes, this is all very well and good,” Thor says.  “But I must ask for one simple request.”

“What’s that?” asks Bruce.

“Once the Mind Stone is destroyed, I want to be the one who kills Thanos,” Thor says firmly.

“Just so long as you go for the head this time, all right?” says the raccoon, Rocket.  “Just to make sure he stays dead?”

“I assure you, Rabbit, my aim will be true,” replies Thor.  “In fact, to be extra cautious, Nebula here can hold him down for me.”

“With pleasure,” says Nebula from her spot next to Rocket.

“Yeah, that’s perfectly fine with me,” says Scott with a shrug.  “I sure as hell don’t wanna go anywhere near that monster.”

“No, you most certainly do not, Man of Ants,” says Thor.  “And nor should you.  Thanos is a most formidable enemy, and as such, only the most formidable of us should attempt to vanquish him.”

Steve has to hide his smirk as Scott’s eyebrows knit together.  Thankfully, Thor’s too busy whispering something to Bruce to hear the “I can be formidable” that Scott mumbles under his breath.

The plans as finalised as they're going to get, Steve suggests that they all break for lunch.  Thirty minutes later they’re gathered around the huge dining table, the difference between now and just a couple of days ago, when the veil of gloom lay so heavily over the Compound, so stark that it’s almost painful.  Instead of the near-silence Steve’s grown accustomed to at mealtimes, the team is almost lively.  Cracking jokes, trading stories about favourite movies and books and sports teams, talking about vacations they would like to take and how much they’re looking forward to getting back their missing teammates.

It’s like the team finally rediscovered its lost rhythm, reassuring Steve even more that they are doing the right thing.

Having a goal, even one so lofty as reversing a snap that took out half the universe, is good for them.

And especially so for Tony.

In the morning, they assemble on the driveway, so antsy to get started that everyone shows up a full thirty minutes earlier than Steve suggested the night before.  As they all gather into a circle, Steve bounces nervously on his feet as he watches Tony program the final set of commands into his workstation.

“All right, honey, we’re all set,” Tony says as he joins the circle.  He takes Steve’s hand, shooting him an encouraging wink.

“Whenever you're ready.”

“Copy that.”  Steve clears his throat as he glances around the circle, at the teammates he’s come to love as though they’re his own brothers and sisters, all of whom are standing there because they believe they can win the most intense battle of their lives.

Because we can, Steve thinks.  And we will.

“A few months ago, we lost,” Steve begins.  “We lost our friends, our family, the children we’ve raised together.”  He pauses, swallowing against the lump in his throat as he glances over at Tony.  “And today we have the chance to take it all back.  To take back the worst loss the Avengers, the world, and the entire universe has ever seen.  Now, you all know the mission, and how we’re predicting it will go, but that doesn't mean we can be complacent.  All of us will need to stay on our toes until that Mind Stone is nothing but a pile of dust, and Thanos’ head is lying on that field in Wakanda.  Be careful.  Look out for each other.  This is the fight of our lives, and we’re gonna win!”

“Damn right, honey,” Tony says proudly.  “Let’s go kick this monster’s ass!”

“Hear, hear!  Let me at the son of a bitch!” calls Rocket.  “Oh, and good speech, by the way.  Very inspiring.”

“No kidding, right?” replies Scott.

“Well, you do know that half the job of being Captain is giving good pep talks,” Tony says as he gives Steve’s hand a squeeze.  “FRIDAY, you ready?”

“All systems are ready, Boss,” replies FRIDAY.  “Awaiting your signal.”

“Copy that,” Steve whispers.  He taps his compass, his heart fluttering as the quantum helmets begin to close over everyones’ heads.  Then he picks up his shield, gripping it tightly as the Quantum Tunnel powers up.

“The tunnel is now sufficiently powered, Captain,” FRIDAY says a few seconds later.

“Copy that.”  Sucking in a deep breath, Steve makes one final glance around the circle, ending with Tony, whose face behind his helmet is broadcasting exactly what Steve’s feeling.

Anticipation, trepidation, and most of all, determination.

We’re gonna get our boy back.

“All right, Avengers,” Steve says in his Captain’s voice.  “Going quantum in three… two… one… mark!”

One would think that since Steve’s already lived through this battle that it would be a bit less stressful the second time around.  But that’s not at all the case as Steve follows Tony onto the street, his heart thudding madly against his ribcage as the huge circular ship comes into view.

Any second now, the two aliens standing in the middle of the street are going to demand the release of the Time Stone.  Dr Strange will refuse, which will then prompt the fight, which means—

Only a couple more minutes until Peter swings in.

And then, as soon as he does, the team will go to work.

“Tony, he’s on his way!” Steve gasps as the Voldemort-looking technomage alien begins his monologue.  “Peter’s on his way to us right now!”

“I know, honey,” Tony says, his lower lip shaking as he shoots Steve the briefest of glances.  “Oh God, Steve, if this doesn’t work—”

“It’s gonna work, Tony,” Steve says as the taller alien starts clomping down the street.  He plants his feet, his left hand naked without his shield.  “Scott, are you in position?”

“Copy that, Captain,” Scott replies.  “I've just climbed to the top of the pendant.”

“Just don't get too close to it!” Bruce rasps.  “That’s an Infinity Stone, Scott, which means it’s probably enough to—!”

Bruce cuts off as Tony taps his chest, his nanotech armour flowing across his chest and down his arms and legs as he heads toward the advancing alien.

And, despite the intensity of their situation, Steve can’t help but admire how damn good Tony looks in his armour.

“Tony, be careful!” Steve says as Tony blocks the alien’s first blow, wishing that Hulk would somehow get over his stage fright and join in the fray.  “Scott, are you still good?”

“Still here, Captain!” calls Scott.  “Waiting on your signal!”

“It’s coming soon!” Steve says, gulping as Tony gets launched into the air by the technomage.  A second later Bruce disappears through a portal conjured by Dr Strange just as Tony flies back into view, firing his repulsor directly at the huge alien’s pickaxe.

And then, as Steve watches Tony get launched across the debris-filled street, Peter, their precious son who Steve feared he might never see again, swings into view just in time to prevent Tony from getting pummelled by the pickaxe.

“Peter!” Steve cries before his mind’s even registered what he’s seeing.  “Little guy, what’re you doing here?  You're supposed to be on a bus!”

“No, Papa, I need to be here!” Peter shouts as he grabs hold of Tony’s leg, keeping him from crashing right into Bruce.  “You said yourself that I’m ready, and from the looks of it, you guys could use my help!”

“Yes, but—” Steve says, grunting as the huge alien hits him square in the chin, sending him flying into the side of a building.  Then he picks up Tony, tossing him off to the side as he winds up, preparing to toss his weapon.

“No!” Peter yells as he dives down, landing in front of Tony just in time to catch the pickaxe.  “Hey!  Why don't you pick on someone your own size, ya big bully!”

“Cap!” Scott says over the comm.  “Ahh… is this the signal?”

“Huh?” Peter says as he pauses to look in Steve’s direction.  “Papa, who is that?  What signal?”

“It’s a long story, little guy, and one we don’t have the time to tell at the moment,” Steve says as he kicks the alien’s clawed hand away just before it would have wrapped around Peter.  “You’re just gonna have to trust us, okay?”

“Uhh, okay.  I can do that,” Peter says, like it’s no big deal.

Like they haven’t just spent the last three-plus months dealing with the fallout from losing half the population of the universe, all while trying to mourn him.

“So, Dad, what’s this guy’s problem?” Peter asks as he swings back across the street.

“Ahh, he’s from space,” Tony sputters.  “He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard.”

“A wizard?” Peter exclaims.  “You mean, you guys met an actual wizard?  Where is he?”

“Yes, but—” Steve starts.

“Buddy, it’s the guy with the necklace!” Tony says.  “The guy we’re trying to protect!”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter says as the alien’s weapon closes around Peter’s body.  “But… he doesn’t look like a wizard.  I mean, where’s his hat?  And his long, white beard?  And—?”

“Not the time, buddy!” Tony snaps as he zooms out of the way of a wrecked car flying down the street.  “Just concentrate on that necklace, yeah?”

“Right!”  Shimmying out of the pickaxe, Peter shoots his web at a nearby taxicab, flinging it right down on top of the alien.

“Nice going, little guy!” Steve calls from his spot on the street.  “Now we’ve just got to—”

He cuts off as he sees Dr Strange start floating towards the spaceship, strapped to a big hunk of asphalt.

“And there he goes,” Tony says, like it’s something he’s seen before.

Which he has, but that’s currently beside the point.

“Now, Scott!” Steve calls over the comm.  “Get that necklace off him now!”

“Copy that, Captain!” answers Scott.  Barely three seconds later, the necklace comes flying off from around Strange’s neck, heading directly for the ground.

“Grab it, Pete!” shouts Tony as he fires his altered repulsor at the beam carrying Strange up to the ship.  The beam fractures like a pane of glass, releasing Strange from its grasp just as Peter’s web latches onto the necklace.

“Great job, little guy!” Steve yells as Tony and Strange’s odd cloak break his fall.  “Now, hang on!  We’re about to take a very weird trip!”

“Huh?  You mean even weirder than this?” Peter asks as he drops to a landing a few metres away from Steve, the necklace clutched in his hand.  “Hey!  Is that Uncle Bruce?  Where’s he been all this time?”

“Yeah it is, buddy, and yeah, it’s about to get a helluva lot weirder, so just hang on, yeah?” says Tony as he and Strange touch down onto the ground.  His helmet retracts as Steve and Bruce rush over to join them.  “Okay, Strange, chop, chop.  We’re on the clock here.”

“That is not the proper name for the spell, but you’ve made your point,” Strange replies.  Then he extends out his arms, spinning his right arm clockwise to form the portal that will take them all to Wakanda.

“Now, buddy!” Tony says as he practically shoves Peter through the portal, following right on his heels.  Scott goes next, with Bruce and Steve picking up the rear.

“The rest of your team will be joining you momentarily,” Strange says as the portal begins to close.  “I would suggest stepping back so they don’t land on top of you.”

Before Steve can answer, the portal closes, slicing off the very tip of the massive alien’s pickaxe as he attempts to send it through.  For a moment, he’s almost too frozen to move, so overwhelmed at the sight of his sweet, precious son, who he once believed he had lost forever, standing whole and healthy right in front of him like nothing ever happened.

Because to Peter, it didn't.

“Pete!” Tony chokes out as he practically tackles Peter, pulling him into such a tight hug that Peter lets out a grunt.  A heartbeat later Steve gathers them both into his arms, pulling off Peter’s mask so he can bury his nose into his hair.

Oh, little guy.  I have missed you!

“Uhh, you guys wanna tell me what’s going on?” Peter asks as Tony starts planting kisses up and down his cheek and temple.  He lifts his head, his sweet brown eyes flicking between Steve and Tony.  “Why’re you acting like you haven’t seen me in like a hundred years or something?”

Tony glances up at Steve, who gives a slight shake of his head.  Now’s not the time to be explaining anything.

“Not till the mission’s over, okay, little guy?” he says as he kisses the top of Peter’s head.  “But once it is, I promise Dad and I will explain all of it.  Okay?”

Peter frowns, but then shrugs as he notices Bruce and Scott standing off to the side.  “Hey, Uncle Bruce!  Long time, no see!  Who’s your new friend?”

The introduction of Scott serves as the perfect distraction as another portal opens and the rest of the team arrives, along with Dr Strange.  Steve has to forcibly hold himself back from pouncing on Bucky and Sam, reminding himself that in their eyes, nothing is out of the ordinary.

It’s a bit discombobulating, actually.  But also completely worth it.

“Did you manage to get through to King T’Challa?” Steve asks Natasha as she hands him his shield and the nanotech star that contains his uniform.

“Yep,” says Natasha, and Steve can tell she’s just as weirded out by everything as he is.  “Shuri’s waiting for us.”

“And you're sure she’ll be able to remove the stone?” Wanda asks nervously.

“We’ve got five of the brightest minds in the entire world all in the same place,” Steve assures her.  “They’ll be able to do it.”

Surely not even the Mind Stone can stand up to the collective intelligence of Shuri, Bruce, Peter, Tony, and Dr Strange, right?

Arriving inside Shuri’s lab, they waste no time getting started.  Steve paces back and forth next to the floor-to-ceiling windows, glancing occasionally back at Wanda, who’s clinging to Vision’s hand while the five geniuses work their magic.

And when the alien ships start arriving, sending their ugly wargs down to be their sacrificial lambs, Steve and the rest of the team, along with T’Challa and his warriors, head out to fight them.  And this time, there’s none of the worry and panic that hung over Steve like a lead veil during the original fight.

This time, there’s only determination.

Which is good, because the fight is probably the most intense that Steve’s ever experienced.  Likely due to the fact that Thanos still only has four stones when he arrives, and is therefore fighting for two instead of only one.

Which makes it even more poetic when at almost the very second that Thanos touches down in Wakanda, Tony announces over the comm that they’ve successfully removed the Mind Stone and replaced it with a pseudo-stone created by Shuri, allowing Vision to retain all of his memories and functions.  Steve barely has time to give the order to destroy it before Thor lands onto the plain with even more verve than his original entrance, his massive axe Stormbreaker sparkling with white-hot lightning bolts as he demands the whereabouts of the big purple beast.

And this time, Steve is only too happy to watch as Thor and Nebula proceed to dispose of the genocidal maniac with one perfectly-aimed swipe of Stormbreaker’s blade.  As soon as the beast’s head leaves his body, the entire Wakandan army erupts into cheers, which escalate even more when a huge burst of yellow light flares from the direction of Shuri’s lab.

The Mind Stone is no longer.

As the yellow light fades and the remaining wargs retreat to the surrounding woods, a sort of eerie quiet descends upon the battlefield, not too unlike what Steve experienced during the battles he fought over seventy years ago.

“Steve?” Tony suddenly says over the comm, thick with concern.  “Honey, you guys all okay down there?”

Blinking back tears, Steve sucks in a deep breath and presses his fingers to his ear.

“Yeah, sweetheart, we’re all fine,” he says as he claps Bucky on the shoulder, earning himself a confused look when he squeezes it just a bit too hard.  “You guys all okay?”

“Oh, yeah.  Vision’s recovering, Wanda’s hovering, Pete and Shuri are bickering about which Hogwarts house Strange would belong to, and Bruce keeps asking what a hog wart is.  We’re all good.”

Steve lets out a chuckle, certain he could not have put it any better than that.

“I love you, Tony,” he forces past the marble-sized knot in his throat.  “And tell Peter that I love him too, will you?  I can’t wait for us to get home.”

“Yeah, honey, me either,” Tony says softly.  “And I’ll tell Pete for ya.”

“Thanks.”  Swiping the back of his hand across his eyes, Steve looks up to find Bucky and Sam standing a metre or so away, holding hands as they eye him warily.

“Why do I get the feeling that something else was going on here during all this?” asks Sam.  “Like some spooky-ooky, hand-wavy-type stuff?”

“‘Cause you’ve got good instincts, Sam,” Steve says, raising his hand when Sam starts to protest.  “Look, I promise we’ll debrief after we get home, but not for a couple of days, okay?  I think we all need a little time to just enjoy being together first.”

Sam and Bucky exchange a look.  “Okay, now I definitely think that some spooky-ooky something-or-other went down here.  But hey, long as the stone’s destroyed and the bad dude’s dead, I guess it doesn't really matter.”

“Well, we definitely know he’s dead,” Steve says with wide eyes.  “I personally witnessed it.”

And it’s not something I’m ever gonna forget.

“Ah huh.  And you're sure you're okay, Stevie?” Bucky asks.  “You look kinda… spooked.”

It hits Steve then that he’s probably the only person to ever live who’s been given not only one, but two outrageous second-chances at the life he’s always wanted.  The first thanks to the Arctic ice that froze him for almost seventy years, and the second thanks to a guy who can shrink down to the size of an ant.

He’s almost afraid to even ponder what might happen next.

He does at least know something for sure.  Whatever does happen next, Steve knows without a doubt that he’ll have his husband and his son right there, fighting along with him.

“Nah, I’m not spooked, Buck,” he finally says.  “I’m just… lucky.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.  “Oh, is that what you call it?  Luck?  Stevie, you’ve been pickin’ fights you know you can’t win since you were about yay tall, and now you're tryin’ to call it ‘luck’?”

“Yep,” Steve says happily as he starts heading towards the palace.  “Luck, and a lot of really good backup.”

Steve’s only barely aware of Sam and Bucky’s bantering as they follow him back up to Shuri’s lab, where he finds Tony and Peter examining some of the data from the Mind Stone, their heads bent together just like they often are when they’re working together.  They both turn as they hear Steve approaching, their faces lighting up as he reaches for them and draws them into the biggest hug he can manage.

“I love you both so much,” he whispers as he kisses Tony’s temple.  “Thank you.”

“Nah, honey, there's no need for that,” says Tony.  “We just did what had to be done.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says as he plants a kiss on the top of Peter’s head.  He knows Tony is downplaying it for Peter’s sake, and he also knows they're not done discussing everything that happened either.  But for the moment, Steve doesn't care.

Because his entire world, his reasons for being, are finally back in his arms.  And he has absolutely no intention of letting them go.

Not in any time.