Archive of Our Own

The end of times began like this.

With six Infinity Shards pulsing above six Avengers' hands, Wanda standing in the middle of the circle, arms outstretched. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as a warm pink glow drifted in vague circlets around her wrists.

The shard above Tony's palm tugged toward the other shards in the circle. He redoubled his efforts to keep a hold of it. The shards were drawn to each other, but they couldn't allow them to connect. At least not yet, before they could tell the shards what they wanted them to do.

Wanda brought her wrists up, pinning them together in front of her. The pink glow deepened color, turning almost blood-red, the air surrounding them becoming stifling. The shards were vibrating now, and it took all of Tony's concentration to keep the Space Shard steady.

The incantation froze the Space Shard in place, but Tony could still feel how badly it wanted to move, and for that instant he believed there was no way he could stop it from doing so. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he struggled with his feat. It felt like trying to use a jackhammer to fine tune his armor.

This is the only thing I want from you, he told his body. If it failed on him now, then all would be lost. The weight of the earth on their shoulders, and damned if he'd be the weak link in the chain.

Wanda clapped her hands above her head, and the shards vanished at once. The moment the pressure released, Tony collapsed to his knees.

The shards circled Wanda's raised right hand, threads building on top of each other, until it exploded in a shower of sparks. The Infinity Bracelet gleamed, fitted to her wrist.

Wanda's eyes glowed red. With her free hand, she channeled magic into the bracelet, or the bracelet channeled magic into her magic – amplifying that billion billion's chance they needed so desperately to one of absolute certainty.

We need to live. The power of their wish, the intensity of their joined gazes fixated on the Infinity Bracelet – this had to be enough.

With a ear-splitting ring, the bracelet shone, the earth rumbled, and lightning cracked off in the distance.

And then...after a long, still moment, the sky opened up. The almost black gave way to a soft, pale, beautiful blue. With that sight, the choking tension in the air lifted. They all stared up, struck by awe, until a disbelieving laugh broke the silence.

“We did it. We did it!”

Clint let out a loud whoop as he punched the air, then clapped Thor soundly on the shoulder. “We did it! We saved the world, Thor!”

Thor beamed back.

“That we did, Hawkeye. And it was thanks to the Scarlet Witch's bravery and tenacity.”

Wanda flashed a bright smile in response, her chest heaving as she put her hands on her knees. Jan took a flying leap into Carol's arms, and their laughter was loud and clear as Carol spun Jan in circles up into the air.

The grin felt like it would break Tony's face. Someone grabbed his hand, and Tony was about to shove them off on instinct, because repulsor gauntlets, hello, until he saw Steve tugging at him. In one fluid motion, Steve got him back on his feet, brought his hands to the sides of Tony's head, undid the catches, lifted the helmet, dropped it aside, and caught Tony's face between his fingers.

“I'm sorry,” he blurted before he leaned forward and kissed him.

Someone cheered. Tony gasped against Steve's lips, only to be caught by another kiss, which finally made something click in his lizard hindbrain.

“Oh my god, Steve,” Tony mumbled before he was kissing back for all he was worth.

When they parted, Steve's face was positively glowing, and Tony couldn't imagine the grin on his own face could grow any wider.

“This.” Tony's tongue had turned to stone, heavy and clumsy, “this, you want – ”

“I kissed you.” Steve let out a giggle. “Yes, yes,” he said breathlessly, “you can't even imagine,” and for added effect, he kissed Tony again, “of course, I thought you were a genius?”

Tony smiled against Steve's lips, helplessly giddy.

That night, the exhaustion was too bone-deep to do anything other than touch. But it was enough, years of questions and urges and fears sparking at the back of Tony's mind as he allowed his hands to explore, schematics forming beneath his fingertips as he reveled in the results of his experiments: the sound of soft gasps and moans, the slide of Steve's body against his, the sight of Steve's eyes fluttering shut.

The high didn't last long.

Tony rolled over, blinking sleep out of his eyes and groaning. It was still night, judging from the lack of traitorous sunlight. He shifted his head on the pillow, a grin slowly coming over his face.

That was a sight, Steve standing bare-naked in front of the window in Tony's bedroom.

“We had a big day,” Tony said. Big night, too, and he couldn't help the grin from widening. “Come back to bed. No need to feel obligated to take your morning run today.”

“Yeah.” Steve's voice was distant. “I just thought the city looked different tonight.”

“Different how?” Tony squinted, the last of his sleepiness washed away thanks to the odd tone in Steve's words.

“I don't see any stars.”

Tony frowned. “Just light pollution. It's New York.”

“Remember yesterday, how we talked on the balcony? It was a full moon, wasn't it?” For all that it was a question, Steve said it with the conviction of an irrefutable statement.

And he was right. Tony remembered how they had looked up at the night sky together, recalled how he had wondered if it was the last time he'd ever see the moon.

“It was,” Tony agreed.

Steve turned, mouth in a thin line, eyes clear and sharp.

“It's not there anymore.”

“What do you mean we've lost contact with the Guardians!?” Steve gripped the edge of the console, looking about two seconds from cracking equipment worth tens of thousands of dollars.

“And S.W.O.R.D., and the Inhumans, and the Kree and the Skrulls and the Shi'ar and the Nova Corps and do you want me to keep going, I can list every last motherfucker in the known universe. ” Sharon didn't come off as much more composed as she tapped furiously away at her station.

“Mister Fantastic just confirmed that the Negative Zone portal in the Baxter Building leads nowhere.”

“Doctor Strange says the same for the Sanctum Sanctorum!”

“And Thor's off trying to find the Bifrost.” But he hadn't reported back yet, not since he set off hours ago in search, after Heimdall didn't answer his calls. Tony looked up at the monitors, which all told the same story. “It's not just a matter of physical location anymore. Even other dimensions can't be reached...”

“It has to be related to the Infinity Bracelet.” Fury jabbed a finger at Steve. “I told you that putting our fate into the hands of magic could have catastrophic consequences – ”

“We are able to stand here and argue about this, which means Scarlet Witch did her job, which none of us could have done,” Steve snapped back.

“I don't think we can be blaming Wanda for anything, not when she single-handedly prevented us and the rest of Earth from being crushed into the size of a quark,” Tony said wryly. He turned to the side. “If anything, we should be thanking you.”

Wanda nodded, her expression hooded. “I used the power of the Infinity Bracelet to make our chance of survival an absolute certainty. This outcome...didn't even occur to me.” She held her elbow with her other hand, looking away.

Tony exchanged a glance with Steve, who nodded at him and walked over to place a hand on Wanda's shoulder. He led her away from the group, and Tony saw him murmur something to Wanda.

“So let me get this straight,” Clint said, tapping his foot on the floor. “We saved Earth, but how does it turn out that doing that means we can't get in contact with anything outside of Earth?”

“Don't tell me you don't get it.” Carol's fists were clenched. “Is everyone just trying to avoid the truth? Can't get in contact with? Like it's just a matter of time before we reach anyone? Like everything will be okay?”

“Carol...” Jan tried to reach out to Carol, who twisted away from her touch.

“Don't even joke with me.” Carol stormed away, the heels of her boots clacking against the floor. “You all see it too, right?” The automatic door slid open, but Carol stopped in her tracks to turn around. Everyone's attention was fixed on her, and she met their gazes with fire in her eyes.

“We saved the world. We just didn't save anything else.”

It had been one of the possibilities from the very beginning of their investigation. One that Tony had not shared with the others, but he doubted he would have needed to, the elephant in the room too large to mention.

But the more fruitless methods they used to reach out, every measurement they took telling them nothing (at least, nothing that they wanted to hear), until finally they sent up a team to the exosphere to investigate the matter for themselves. Tony wouldn't forget the panicked shouting in the mission room as all communications with the S.H.I.E.L.D. team were cut the moment they should have reached the vacuum of space.

One by one, the other hypotheses were crossed off, until they had to face the reality they found themselves in.

It wasn't a matter of being unable to reach elsewhere.

It was that elsewhere no longer existed.

What the Infinity Bracelet had done was preserve Earth in a state that would allow its continued existence. So even though there was no sun, days passed. Even though there was no moon, nights passed.

Even though the entire universe outside of Earth had been destroyed, life still went on.

At least, that was how it was supposed to go.

“I want to announce my resignation from the Avengers.”

All eyes in the briefing room turned to Steve.

“What?” Carol said blankly.

Steve nodded, stood, and placed his hands on the table. There were bags under his eyes, and the usual alertness in them was dulled, his jaw slack. “It's been a great pleasure working with all of you, but I think it's in all of our best interests for me to step down as chairperson.”

Clint leaned forward in his seat. “Now, I can't be someone who tells you to stop, Cap, but I do know you, and so I'm going to have to ask – why?”

A self-deprecating smile tugged at Steve's lips. “In light of recent...circumstances, I don't feel like I've performed my duties as chairperson as well as I could have.”

“That's preposterous.“ Wanda was sitting up straight, her eyes bright. “You couldn't have known, Cap, nor could one person have changed that outcome.” She ducked her head. “You – we – should be proud of what happened. The lives we saved.”

“Witchie's right, Cap,” Clint nodded decisively. “We wouldn't even be sitting here if it wasn't for your idea to use the Infinity Shards.”

“Thank you, and your comments are noted, Hawkeye. Wanda.” Steve looked around the room, meeting everyone's eyes. His gaze lingered on Tony, before he stood up straight. “Regardless, I'd still like to ask for a time of leave.”

“I understand that is entirely your prerogative, Captain,” Thor agreed, closing his eyes as he did so.

Jan bunched up her shoulders, looking at Steve and frowning. “You'll still be on the team reserve, right?”

Steve's smile didn't reach his eyes. “Of course I will, Wasp. I'll always be here if you – if any of you need me.”

“What about you, Iron Man?” Carol asked suddenly, staring at Tony intently. “How do you feel about this?”

Tony wasn't one to fidget, so he looked to his side instead. Steve avoided his gaze, and something in his chest clenched. “Of course, if Cap feels this way, then who am I to stop him? We're Avengers, but we've never denied one of our members their own time when they've needed – and deserved – it.”

Carol's shoulders drooped as she ran a hand up and through her hair, still looking ready to protest. “Then we'll put it to a vote,” she said, glancing around at the other Avengers. “All in favor?”

A chorus of ayes rang throughout the room. Carol slumped back in her chair and muttered her own aye half-heartedly.

“Now,” Steve continued, “to address the matter of who the new chairperson will be – ”

Tony leaned against the wall, raising an eyebrow at Steve, who was walking out of Tony's – theirs, at least for the past week– room with a backpack hoisted over his shoulder and a box clutched in his hands.

“Are our lives so backwards that we move out of people's rooms once we get together with them?”

That managed to make Steve stop. He shuffled guiltily, which, great asshole move, Stark. Tony held up his hands to apologize before Steve interrupted him.

“I'm sorry. I just need some time,” Steve said quickly.“I'll be staying over in Brooklyn for a bit. Nothing to do with you – us. I'm sorry,” he said again, looking down, but Tony had the distinct feeling he wasn't quite exactly apologizing for this, anymore.

Tony rocked back on his heels. “No – I know. It's been – ” hell, who didn't need a break now? “I just wanted to remind you, even when you're not here, that there'll always be something for you. Whether it's just words, someone to listen. A new shield.” Steve chortled, hefting his backpack which must have been holding the shield.

“This is your home too,” Tony finished lamely, internally kicking himself. He'd always been so good at imploring Steve, painfully honest when he needed to be, but here, right now, the words had left him.

I'll always be here for you.

“Of course it is.” When it came, Steve's smile was soft and quiet. It was the first real smile Tony had seen from him in days. “You gave me it. You've...given me so much. I can't thank you enough for that.” He scooted over then, tentative, and pressed his lips to Tony's.

They stood there in the middle of nothing more than a chaste kiss, neither of them moving to change that.

When Steve finally stepped back, his smile had turned fond. Like Steve was the one trying to cheer Tony up, when Tony was the one here attempting to offer solace.

“If you need something, you'll call?” Tony asked.

“Yes, I will.” They stared at each other for a long moment, before Steve reached out, pulling Tony into a hug. “I'll be back for you.”

Tony closed his eyes. “Way to make me feel like a war bride, Rogers,” Tony muttered into Steve's shoulder, and that finally got Steve to laugh.

Board meetings, which entailed too much debate and argument over the stock drops, took up most of the morning. Then, looking out the window, seeing the bright and sunny day, and the dull pain in Tony's head flared to infuriating levels. God, he wanted a drink, in a way that hadn't seized him like this for the past few years, and that made him want to drive a fist through the window, shatter through the insidious, poisonous thoughts coursing through him.

“Tony,” Rhodey said, tapping his finger on the desk. Tony's eyes shot up, his shoulders hunching like an admission of guilt.

They were in his office, having lunch. Japanese today, one of Tony's perennial favorites, but the rice tasted like sandpaper against his tongue. Rhodey had flown in unexpectedly, but from the way he had been closely watching him, Tony knew it wasn't just a matter of dropping by just for fun.

“Well,” Tony leaned back in his chair, “do you want me to come out with it now, or did you want to enjoy your meal?”

Rhodey frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You wanted to check up on me, know if I was doing alright?” Tony shrugged, a wry grin tugging at his lips. “Well, you've got me here, now. You've seen me.”

Rhodey put his hand on Tony's sleeve, his expression grown serious. “I've known you long enough that seeing how you operate isn't enough to know what's going on underneath.”

Tony couldn't look anywhere except at the tabletop, Rhodey's urging, quiet words causing feelings to churn, bubble up until he couldn't handle it anymore. “You want to know, then?” His voice wavered but didn't crack.

“What's the point?” Tony's voice came out empty, hollow. He tried to laugh to take off the edge, but that came out even worse.

“Tony...”

“What's the point, Rhodey? Why are we doing this?” Tony finally snapped, tearing his arm away and glaring up at Rhodey, who couldn't hide his flinch. “Do you know what I've been doing? I spent half my morning listening to people argue about money! Like that's what's important, like that's what matters the most right now! You've got to be joking with me!” He wanted to punch something. He wanted to hurt himself, and even better that he deserved it. “We're sitting here, living here, still caring about fucking arbitrary minutiae, acting like everything's fine and dandy, like nothing happened when the entire universe around us is gone?” His chest was heaving, but no matter how hard he breathed, it was still unbearably tight. He couldn't look at Rhodey, suddenly, his gaze darting to the ground.

The silence hung in the air, unbroken.

He heard the sharp inhalation what felt like an eternity later. “I get it.” Rhodey began, slowly, placatingly. “I really do. I'm War Machine. But when I go on about getting it, I'm not talking just about you.” Tony looked back up, and Rhodey nodded, not stopping. “I never got into the big leagues, like you have. I'm not best friends with Norse gods. I don't go fight in intergalactic space battles with aliens. I don't see dragons, or time travelers, or crazy, evil alternate versions of my friends or, hell, of me and go, I guess it's just Thursday.”

Rhodey shook his head. “I just wanted to serve Earth, the life I know, the people I love.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I'm not saying that this whole thing isn't tragic, isn't something we should deny happened, but you have to understand. For people like me, there never was a place outside of Earth. People like me, we can't upend our lives thinking about it when it wasn't really there to begin with. There's nothing on that road but misery.”

They stared at each other, and Tony didn't know whether he wanted to shout more or cry. He sank back in his chair, then, gazing blankly up at the ceiling. Falling into despair, huh? He'd been down that road too many times before, become useless and shriveled from falling prey to his weaknesses.

“So, just don't think about it?” he muttered.

“It wasn't your fault, Tony.”

Tony refused to make eye contact. “Hey, that's what we said to Steve. If it always sounds just like that, maybe he left the team so he wouldn't have to deal with hearing it all the time.”

There was a prolonged silence. “Tony.” A hand on his shoulder. “Tony, did I just hear you say that Steve left the Avengers?”

Tony turned his face to quirk an eyebrow at Rhodey. “Yes?”

“Tony,” Rhodey's face had gone deathly serious, “do you remember when you stepped down as chairperson of the Avengers and left?”

“I'd prefer not to think about – ” Tony trailed off, something cold creeping its way up his limbs. He thought of the last time he'd talked with Steve, just a few days ago, in the hallway of the mansion. He remembered how Steve couldn't even really look at him.

But, no. No. The answer was simple. Tony was Tony, and Steve was Steve. There was no reason to –

“It's fine. Steve's not me,” Tony said, voice wavering. “Anyone would want some time away. He said he'd call if he needed help.”

“Knowing you need help and needing help are two very different things,” Rhodey said sternly. “Tony, I'm telling you, go check on him. You don't just have someone who feels like the lives of billions are weighing down on them go off on their own.”

Tony's heartrate was picking up. He sat up, staring at Rhodey, and finally nodded. “Okay. I don't have any appointments this afternoon – ” the board would want to bite his head off, running off in the middle of a stock crisis – “I'll let Pepper know.” Something heavy sat in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey – ” he began.

“Go,” Rhodey said. “It's fine.”

“I'm sorry.” Tony stood up. “I'll make it up to – ”

“I said it's fine.” Rhodey waved him off. “I'm worried about him too, you know.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, pulling on his jacket in record speed. He raised his hand in parting as he dashed out of the room.

Steve didn't answer the first three doorbell rings. Tony was considering the best way to force his way in when the door swung open.

“Tony?” Steve brightened suddenly, unexpectedly, but his voice was hoarse, and Tony took in the sight. A dusting of stubble over Steve's face, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting boxers.

“Hey.” Tony shrugged, suddenly self-conscious as he smiled. “What's up?”

“Um,” Steve said, face falling. Tony, abruptly realizing Steve wasn't the type of person who ever wanted to admit nothing much, winced and perked up.

“Just wanted to check up on you,” he said. “See how my favorite Captain is doing.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Steve quirked a small smile in return, before stepping to the side. “Come in.” Tony hesitated before entering.

When Steve closed the door behind him, Tony grew even more self-aware. He had been here, in Steve's apartment, before, yes, but all of the Avengers understood the importance of privacy, preferring to keep away from each other's havens, and none more than Steve's. Hell, at times Tony's idea of distance from the life of Iron Man was all the way on the other side of the country.

But that meant this was a side of Steve that was just his and not Captain America's. Tony suddenly felt unwanted, a intruder here.

Steve had padded over to the kitchen, starting the coffee unbidden. Tony took a double take at that – Steve usually wouldn't offer him coffee outside of morning hours, as a kind-hearted, futile attempt of gently encouraging a healthier sleep cycle. It was already coming up on dinnertime.

Only a few nights ago, they had been together in every sense of the word, even the ones Tony had convinced himself he would never have. But here, standing on the other side of the room, watching Steve lay out biscuits on a plate in the kitchen, Tony had never felt as much as a stranger.

By the time Steve emerged from the kitchen, Tony had found himself a place on the couch. Tony patted the spot next to him, and Steve took a seat, seeming to hesitate before wrapping an arm around Tony's waist. The fears fluttering in Tony calmed at the touch, and he leaned into Steve, his shoulder solid under his cheek. He hadn't even bothered putting on a shirt, Tony mused with some odd mix of trepidation and appreciation. This was different from normal too, but in a way that made his chest flutter with newly realized feelings.

“How are things?” Steve mumbled quietly into Tony's hair.

“I'd say the usual, but today at least three quarters of the board wanted to gut me alive. As opposed to half on normal days, of course.” Tony turned and grinned at Steve's raised eyebrow. “Nothing to worry about.” He debated asking Steve about his day. The rumpled bedsheets, the unshaven face, how the curtains were pulled tight –

“You okay?” Tony ventured instead.

He felt Steve tense besides him. “Hm?”

“Well, it's just – you have this tendency to cut off contact with the outside world sometimes.”

“Cut off contact with the outside world?” Steve echoed, tone sharp.

“You didn't shave,” Tony pointed out, which was probably the easiest indicator. “You didn't go outside today, did you?”

Just like that, Steve deflated. “I guess not,” he said sullenly, and Tony could feel the barrier build up between them. He took Steve's hand in his own and squeezed.

“I wanted to ask you for something,” Tony said, which was a complete lie, because he had no reason to come here other than a unsettling fear from Rhodey's words. Nothing to do now but tell the truth as best he could. He swallowed. “The mansion's lonely without you. Come back?”

Tony braced himself, knowing he'd pushed too far too fast, ready to hear the no.

“Are you sure?”

“Huh? Yes, of course I'm sure.” Tony squinted at Steve, who frowned.

“I thought that maybe you'd be better off – ” Steve shook his head. “Never mind.” The tension left his shoulders and he smiled shyly. “Sure.”

“Oh.” Tony smiled and bumped shoulders with Steve. “Well, that was easy. I thought I might have had to drag you kicking and screaming from here.”

Steve grinned back. “Believe me, if I didn't want to move, you couldn't make me.”

“It's a great thing we're on the same side, then.” Tony made a show of considering his words. “Usually.”

That got a laugh out of Steve, and both of their smiles had turned real by this point.

After some more ribbing, they settled back in place, fingers interlocked, breathing quiet. After a long moment, the words came, quiet like a secret. “Thank you for coming to check on me.”

Tony nodded, and what could he say, otherwise? It hadn't even been his idea, and he and Steve were supposed to be...together, now. Rhodey would have been a better boyfriend to Steve than he was. Is.

Moments later, Steve's head was lain atop Tony's shoulder, taken by the deep, slow breathing of sleep that had eluded him for days prior.

Steve's return to the mansion was quiet, but not in the same way as usual. Avengers had always flitted in and out of the mansion while on duty, so Steve's few days of absence wouldn't have made much of a ripple even back as an active member of the roster.

But here and now, Steve was in the middle of a leave. He ate dinner with them, worked out in the training room, spent time together with them, same as always. But when the Avengers alert came, Steve would snap his head, looking torn.

“You're on a leave of absence. We've never judged anyone for needing those, and there's no good reason to start with yourself,” Tony had told him the first time.

No one made comments or dropped hints asking Steve when he would be coming back to the team, how long his break would last. It was a small blessing, because Tony knew, that what Steve was going through was anything but a vacation.

It was a different kind of battle, more like the ones Tony had fought out in the biting cold by himself. But Steve was here, and that fact calmed Tony. If Steve even came close to where Tony had fallen, so bitterly alone, that was – unacceptable. Tony wouldn't allow it.

Sometimes Tony didn't think he could reach him. When Steve retreated on his own and wouldn't respond to anyone's calls for hours. The days Steve would ride off on his bike before breakfast and wouldn't return until long after dinnertime, or the days he wouldn't even leave their bed.

Still, Steve was here.

When Tony went to bed, Steve would roll over, resting his arm over Tony's chest, eyes still alert no matter how late at night it was. When Tony woke in the middle of the night to the sound of panicked gasping, Steve would wrap his arms around Tony, mumble at him to go back to bed, but Tony could still feel the tremors through their shared embrace. Steve went on his morning runs the first few days they slept in the same bed, but after that, whenever Tony woke up, Steve was fast asleep. Tony would watch him, framed by the budding sunlight, soak in the relaxed, calm expression he never saw otherwise, and resist the urge to brush the hair out of his face and risk waking him from a slumber that, for once, was not fitful.

A few weeks after his return, Steve went down to Tony's workshop himself, looking up at Tony from underneath his eyelashes as he took his hand silently to lead him up to their room.

Steve had given Tony so much. All Tony could do in return was this, to not leave Steve alone when he so desperately didn't want to be.

Because villains never stopped, the Avengers wouldn't, either. Tony had to admit, that sparked something in him, and probably the rest of the Avengers as well, a hollow filled at the thought of still being necessary.

Being needed meant that it was a mere matter of time before Captain America returned to the Avengers. It was sooner than Tony wanted, but who was he to say when Steve was ready?

Slowly, some semblance of actual normalcy, not a facade, not a roleplay, returned to their lives.

And Tony began to go to sleep earlier.

The thing about having the world fall apart was that there always remained pieces to pick up afterward. The mansion could be destroyed, Stark Industries could go bankrupt, the world could even fall under the rule of a time traveling dictator, but something always lay beyond the horizon. Something like hope.

But when the world was all that was left, the last thing they could be asked was to watch it break again.

So, when Reed called Steve and Tony with urgent news, asking them to bring the Infinity Shards to the Baxter Building, not to tell anyone what they were doing, and warning them that the fate of the Earth was at stake, Steve and Tony exchanged a glance before setting off wordlessly.

They weren't greeted in the foyer by anyone, being simply informed by H.E.R.B.I.E. to make their way to the elevator and to take the first door on the right when they exited. It was unlike the Fantastic Four – usually Sue or Ben, maybe Johnny would be there to invite them in. Tony tightened his grip on his briefcase, and he saw Steve shift the shield on his back out of the corner of his eye.

When they reached it, the door opened for them soundlessly into a conference room.

“Reed,” Steve said, nodding to the man who stood at the head of the table. “And...everyone.”

“I see we were not the only ones invited.” Tony came up next to Steve.

In the seats around the table sat an assortment of men Tony never expected to be in the same room, let alone here in the Baxter Building. Then he remembered what Reed had told them about the circumstances of his meeting and steeled himself.

T'Challa, Charles Xavier, Stephen Strange, and Namor peered back at Steve and Tony. All of them looked as on-edge and wary as Tony felt, and the meaning of Reed's warning hung ever heavier over the room.

It had been Tony's idea, from years back, just after the Kree-Skrull war. A government of superhumans – their own UN. But too many objections had been raised, and they had parted, unfulfilled, with a vague agreement to meet again in times of need, to share information and plan out courses of action that extended beyond their own corner of the world.

But the call had never come out, nor had Steve been present at their first and only meeting. Then again, that meeting had also included Black Bolt, now another name on the endless list of lives lost. The hair on the back of Tony's neck stood on end.

“Thank you for coming, Tony. Steve.” Reed gestured at them to sit. “I'll begin as soon as you're ready.”

Tony stole a glance at Steve as they took their own seats, face set in a hard, untelling expression. He fidgeted, and, fuck it, reached out to brush his hand over Steve's. Steve flinched, and Tony was about to pull back, pass it off as an accidental gesture, before Steve turned his hand over and grasped Tony's fingers between his own. Steve didn't look back at him, but squeezed his fingers gently.

Reed cleared his throat as a projection of a grid with a small sphere in the middle appeared above the center of the table, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

“I'm sure you're all aware of my dealings of the multiverse, so I will begin by saying it's not like universes have not died before,” Reed said without preamble. “The multiverse is too great for something not unlike what happened to our own universe to occur. The unique part of our scenario, from what I can tell, is that our Earth remains despite the destruction of the space around it.” The sphere on the grid glowed as a location marker.

“But...my current working theory of how the multiverse works – ” words stated with absolute conviction – “is that universes are not separate entities. It's not so much a matter of physical location as it is of connections between them.” On the projection, giant spheres, hundreds of times bigger than the one that represented Earth, appeared. “Supposedly, when universes die natural deaths, these connections are severed, and the other universes connected to it are in some state of stasis, until they reconnect. Like neural pathways.”

“But as I said, we're an anomaly. Since we're here, occupying an area that, by all rights, should no longer exist, there is a resulting chain reaction. Other universes, in their attempt to reestablish connections, are unable to. Instead, they are pushed away, resulting in collisions with other universes. These are called incursions.”

They watched in silence, as one of the giant spheres crashed into another. Rather than push it out of the way, they crumpled inward, the rippling effect claiming both of them. Tony felt Steve trembling through their joined hands.

This wasn't just a hologram. This was – Tony couldn't speak. Neither did anyone else, not even Reed. Namor reached out, waving his hand in the spot where the two universes had occupied, but there was nothing there any longer.

“This doomsday scenario,” T'Challa spoke, voice hoarse, “those universes aren't helpless. Surely they have some mechanism to stop the incursions, like we had to save our own Earth from destruction.”

Reed nodded. “You're right. Each universe has its own set of Infinity Shards. However, if it were that simple, then incursions could never play out in the first place. No,” Reed's expression fell, “each universe has survived at least one incursion. But that didn't guarantee their survival through the next. The only way I can conceptualize this is that, when used to prevent incursions, the Infinity Shards become overexerted – unusable, unable to withstand the pressure.”

“And thus they break, right in their greatest time of need,” Stephen said, and a chill went through the room. What if that had happened to them? What if, at that time, their Infinity Bracelet failed, and the Earth met its end? Tony tried to imagine it, the Infinity Bracelet failing at the exact moment Wanda had raised her arm, and couldn't prevent the shudder from coursing through him.

“So,” Steve's voice was carefully steady, “you're saying, that by our Earth existing, we're destroying other universes?”

“If we continue to exist,” Reed said, “we may cause the death of the rest of the known multiverse.”

Tony swallowed thickly. He had to know, there had to be something concrete to this – he couldn't take this as some cosmic horror of infinite proportions. They had to know what their actions from here-on would mean. Even if knowing made it worse.

“How many – ”

Reed's eyes closed. “Like I've said, universes have died before,” he said quietly. “It's rare, but I have seen it with my own eyes. So I didn't notice this happening until quite recently, but after going back and looking at the data, in the past three months, four incursions have occurred. Of the four, one became deadly for the two universes involved.”

Tony wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, a wave of sudden regret washing over him – try to pretend he hadn't heard it, that the number and what that number entailed was just white noise to his ears.

“Then there's no time to waste,” Steve said, letting go of Tony's hand to reach for his pouch. Tony curled his hand into a fist, feeling the loss of warmth as keenly as everything else.

The Infinity Shards gleamed when they were placed on the table, Steve meeting each of their eyes in turn. When he reached Tony, the sheer determination was almost enough to ease the sick sense of foreboding.

“We'll find a way to stop this.”

Of course. There was no reason to be afraid. They were some of the most powerful and smartest people on the planet, they would find an answer. They had saved themselves, so why wouldn't they be able to save everyone else, as well?

They would stop this by any means possible.

But that didn't mean that dread didn't curl in the pit of Tony's stomach, watching the Infinity Bracelet form around Steve's wrist.

He remembered Reed's words as the shards embedded on the bracelet gleamed. Overexerted Infinity Shards...but this was different. They weren't trying to push an entire universe away from them. Prevention was always the most effective way of dealing with things, wasn't it?

“Infinity Shards won't work outside of their home universe,” Reed reminded Steve as Steve stepped up next to the Bridge. “Unfortunate, as that'd make this job easier.”

“Yeah, imagine how much easier this would be if you could just brute force the problem away with all the Infinity Shards you could muster up,” Tony said wryly.

“That's a less elegant solution than I expect from you,” Steve tried to joke, but Tony could see the sweat beading on his forehead as he flexed his hand.

“I'm here because I fly around in a tank fitted to the size of a human. Sublety isn't my strong suit.”

Steve shot him a look as Stephen stepped up to the platform. “That's not the only reason,” he said quietly moments later.

“Are you ready, Steve? Do you know what you have to do?” Stephen asked him.

Steve nodded. “We need to negate Earth's influence and prevent Earth from pushing other universes away and creating chain reactions. So we want to dislodge ourselves from where we are, now.”

“If this works, we'll be effectively free-floating in the space between universes,” Reed agreed.

“Right,” Steve said, and let out a deep breath. “Here goes, then.”

He closed his eyes and raised his arm. A soft gasp escaped him.

“What are you seeing?” Stephen asked him.

“It's for real,” Steve said, a sense of awe and incomparable loss in his voice. “The universe really is gone. I can hear everyone on Earth, but outside, it's – ”

“Can you tap into the Earth?” Tony asked. “There's nothing holding it in place anymore – ” somewhere, the laws of physics were crying out in agony – “Make it move?”

“I”ll try.” Steve opened his eyes, and Tony suddenly wished he hadn't – the rainbow of colors that replaced his eyes made him take a step back in surprise. The Infinity Bracelet sparked, blindingly bright. There was a sudden jolt, pain searing through Tony's body, through his bones, that forced him to stop breathing.

“Stop!” Charles shouted what Tony felt. His fingers were pressed to his forehead, trembling with exertion.

The buzzing in the room rocketed up to ear-splitting levels. Steve was staring at his hand, the lights from it increasing in intensity.

“Steve, you'll kill us all!” T'Challa cried out.

Steve remained deaf to their shouts, and – oh god, it dawned on Tony, he was succumbing to the power of the Infinity Bracelet. Any longer, and Steve would be lost to it.

Every instinct Tony had cried out at him to run away, hide, get away or he'll be lost to it too. Tony ignored them all, reached out, and grabbed Steve's shoulder. “Come back! Steve!”

Steve jerked under his grasp, and he threw his head back, severing the connection between him and the bracelet. He stumbled back, landed on the floor, and his eyes – Tony knelt down and cupped his face between his hands.

Steve's eyes were blue again, and Tony tried to hold back a sob of relief.

“Tony?” Steve said, eyes suddenly fixed on his. His voice was distant. “Did it – did it work?”

Tony stroked his thumb over Steve's cheek, unable to meet his gaze.

“Tony?”

“The shards were crying out,” Charles interrupted. “If that had gone on for mere moments longer, they would have shattered, the same as the others. I heard them. Their death throes. You were right to stop. The bracelet is the only thing keeping our Earth intact, after all.”

Steve looked down. No, look at me instead, Steve, Tony wanted to say, but he couldn't deny Steve this. Steve flexed his hand, at the inert bracelet, and opened his mouth uselessly as his eyes cleared, the realization settling into him.

Namor scoffed. “Does that answer your question, Captain?”

The Infinity Shards were suspended in the center of the table, where the hologram had been before. When Tony looked to his side, Steve didn't meet his gaze. Tony squeezed his fingers, wrapped around Steve's. By this point the others would have noticed their clasped hands, but if they were even half as smart as they were supposed to be, they would have figured it out when Steve had used the Infinity Bracelet. And it's not like Tony really cared what they all thought, anyway.

Around them, the others were debating heatedly on the next course of action. But this thread, too, would eventually reach another dead end, another lull in the conversation where the cloying silence pressed in on them from all sides.

The point of the matter was, they had to find a way to stop incursions without the power of the Infinity Shards, but nothing they had proposed thus far would succeed. Not with the power that Earth alone could harness. Not to mention the space they'd need for any large-scale projects. If only they could have access to the resources and room that outer space could provide...

But if they had that, then they wouldn't be in this situation, would they?

At a pause in the proceedings, Steve spoke up. He hadn't done so in a while, and his voice came hoarse.

“Can't we just...” he cut off and he squeezed Tony's hand, hard. “If it's our Earth that's the problem, then what's stopping us from eliminating it from the equation?”

It was the last proposal Tony would have expected to hear coming out of Steve's mouth. He stared at him in disbelief.

“We discussed that already,” Reed said, voice worn from exhaustion. “We don't have a point of anchor to allow any interdimensional travel, so even evacuation isn't an option.”

“That's not what I meant,” Steve said, and the room fell silent.

“We still have options available to us, Captain,” Charles said, “but no one here needs to be a mind-reader to understand what it is you're truly suggesting.”

“What else have we ever fought for, if not for our kingdoms and the people we love and must protect? And you're suggesting to throw that all away in an act of mass suicide?” T'Challa said, scathing.

“What we do, is we find a different way,” Stephen said, straightening. “It's impossible that such a situation has no solution.”

“That's something I would have expected Captain America to tell us, not the Sorceror Supreme,” Namor shot off. “Find the way where no one loses.”

“That's what you all say. That's what you all have been saying.” Steve's hand trembled in Tony's. “But no matter what we do, everything takes time. And what are we going to do in the meantime? While we sit here debating, people are dying,” Steve's voice was rising, “and we're not going to do anything about that?”

Namor arched an eyebrow this time. “Are you insane? Think of what you're proposing. Will you give up the innocent lives of billions to save the rest?”

“We're heroes,” Steve interjected. “What we do is save.” He took a breath and stood up, yanking his hand out of Tony's grip. “But you all know what happened when the Avengers used the Infinity Bracelet. The bracelet works via through the will of its user, and the only will any of us had then was to save Earth. Is that's what's going to happen here? Can we only save Earth again, at the cost of everyone else? At the cost of our humanity?”

“The alternative you're proposing is the payment of our own lives. That type of martyrdom is not I can accept, not when so many of my own have struggled so long for the right to exist,” Charles said.

“Then you're calling this an acceptable loss? There's no such thing!” Steve slammed a fist into the table. “Our survival doesn't justify killing others! If we only cared about ourselves – that's the selfish sort of thinking that's gotten us here in the first place!” The anguish in his voice rang out, clear and sharp. It cut deep into Tony's chest, and he suddenly wanted to reach out, ask himself how he hadn't seen it before, the root of why Steve would consider something so unthinkable.

Because Steve blamed himself for what happened. Oh, the Avengers had all agonized over their what-ifs, but Steve had taken the deaths of countless billions into his own hands. To Steve, what they were arguing over would eventually lead to the same thing, all over again. For him, there no longer existed reasoning that could justify that, even if it meant themselves.

God, Tony should have known – he should have noticed, he should have realized –

“The practice of sacrificing the few to save the many, if that is what it has to come to, at the end, is something I have had to struggle with. But when the few means yourself...” Stephen's lips curled. “No, not just yourself. Those you love and care for as well.”

“My children are innocent,” Reed cut in, eyes fixed on Steve. “Sue and I, Ben, Johnny – we had these powers thrust upon us, yes, but after that we chose this life knowing exactly what it may entail. But Franklin? Valeria? We wanted to offer them a choice. They deserve that choice, of whether they live solely for others or for their own sakes.”

Steve looked around at the table, imploring. T'Challa shook his head.

“My people come before all.”

Namor shrugged, but didn't offer words, which was answer enough.

“Is that what it comes down to? Human nature? We're supposed to be better than that. We are better than that.” Steve's voice wavered. How long would it have taken Tony to notice? Something had finally been hit here, a dead end, a wall Steve couldn't climb over. How long has Steve been faltering, losing faith?

“Aren't we?” Steve asked again, and he finally sought out Tony. Tony...Tony looked down, flexed his empty hand to distract from the sick churning in his gut.

“Not all of us, Steve.”

Steve stormed out after that, and the conversation left with him. Tony worked his jaw, looking at the door, and finally stood up.

“Excuse me,” he said roughly. As he headed out, Reed's fingers curled around his arm. Tony startled, and Reed retracted his arm as Tony glared back over his shoulder.

“Tony, if you're planning to speak to him,” Reed said, carefully, “Steve's proposal is unthinkable. We couldn't possibly – ”

“You don't have to tell me,” Tony shared a wry smile with the group. “Cap and I have always had our fair share of disagreements.” That alone attested that Tony didn't follow his heart over his mind.

He wasn't always proud of that fact.

Upon exiting the room, Tony paused, realizing he had no idea where Steve had gone. He took a peek at the elevator they had come from, then turned on his heel and headed in the opposite direction.

Steve stood at the end of the hallway, where the corridor tapered out into a bright, roomy area lined with windows. His forehead rested against the glass, and Tony had the irrational urge to yank him away from the edge, no matter how superficial it was.

He cleared his throat instead. Steve shifted a bit to acknowledge him, though he must have already heard him coming.

“I couldn't very well leave,” Steve said. If Tony hadn't been with him for the past few weeks, he might have been prepared for an argument. Steve's voice was dull, the fiery drive in the room all but dissipated. Right now, Tony was more preoccupied with how Steve didn't turn to face him.

“I can't run away,” Steve continued. “I can't ignore this. There are people who believe idealism is ignorance, but it's the exact opposite. It's facing everything that is, and seeing everything it can be, and wanting it to be better.”

“But what's better about this? I can't look away. From innocent people that are going to die – ”

“Steve, Steve, hey.” Tony reached out.

Steve whirled around, eyes flashing, sending Tony stumbling back. “You didn't agree with – ” Steve accused him. “How? There's nothing about this that isn't – ” His hands tightened into fists.

Tony swallowed, the lines he'd ran over in his head on the walk here all surfacing all at once. “We saved ourselves from a situation where, frankly, we shouldn't have. We saved the Earth, Steve. It was – is a good thing. Nothing changes that. It wasn't a mistake.” The admission tasted bitter against Tony's tongue, like there was something corrupted about the words.

Could they have known? Could they have, like Steve insisted, prevented this somehow, back when they first used the Infinity Bracelet, because if then there were trillions of lives – he bit his lip.

It took a while for the words to form, for Tony to convince himself of their veracity. “In this, we're just as innocent as the other universes are.”

Steve's face fell, like he'd hoped for better. He shook his head. “But we know about it. We know why this is happening.”

And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? From this point on, their actions would earn them judgment.

“We know, so we should do something to stop it – ” Steve's shoulders shook.

“We know. We, as in the people in that room, know about what's happened. But – ” Tony waved an arm toward the cityscape they overlooked. “They don't. They just happened to be born in the wrong place. Should they suffer because of that?”

Tony shook his head. “Some people would say that's part of life, that sort of chance luck.” Hell knew that he has reaped the benefits of his birth. “But that's – ” his voice caught.

“That's not the sort of thing Captain America says,” Steve said. He took a step forward and stumbled. His eyes widened in surprise, but Tony was there to catch him.

Steve rested his forehead against Tony's shoulder. Tony didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around him.

“It's wrong. I know. It's not their fault. But it's just – someone has to pay for it, either way, don't they?” Steve's lips formed the words against the fabric of Tony's suit. “No one should have die for my mistakes. But they have, and they do, and they will, and it's all my – ”

Something closed up in Tony's throat. “Shh,” he whispered, rubbing circles into Steve's back. “It's not, it's really not, shh,” and he might have cried.

The words from Steve's mouth played over and over in Tony's head, and he squeezed Steve harder in retaliation. No matter what, that was the last thing he wanted to hear. That familiar, same sentiment that had rung in the recesses of his mind, never gone.

I don't ever want you to regret your actions. Not like Tony did. Because Steve was Steve, and him sincerely thinking something like that – it cut deeper somehow, felt more real and left Tony more hollow than the end of the multiverse they had caused.

“Killing people won't fix things,” Steve mumbled. Tony made a noise of assent. Steve buried his head against Tony's collarbone.

“But what will?” Steve's voice cracked as he asked the question neither of them had the answer to.

When they entered the meeting room, the conversation was brought to a halt as the others gaped at them. Apparently their re-entrance was unexpected.

“If you're back to show us exactly how far that stick up your ass goes, we don't want it,” Namor said, tone halfway between wary and taunting.

“No,” Charles said, eyeing Steve. “You seem much calmer than you did half an hour ago, Captain.” His gaze flicked to Tony, who kept his expression impassive.

“I've come back to make a proposal.” Steve rose up, back straight, and he was only an inch taller than Tony but when he wanted, his presence could expand to fill any room.

Stephen's eyebrow rose. “When you put it like that, it sounds like a ultimatum.”

Steve shook his head. “If anyone were to stop you, it wouldn't be me.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the tension of wariness turned to an odd sort of anticipation.

“Reed,” Steve addressed him. “You said there have been four incursions in the past three months. That makes it one every three weeks or so?”

“Three or four weeks, yes. I would warn against putting too much faith in a pattern with so few data points, however – ”

“Two weeks, then,” Steve said.

“Pardon?”

“I said that we can't just attempt to find an alternative while other universes are in danger without regard for the consequences. So...I want two weeks,” Steve said. “Two weeks of everyone working together, trying to put a stop to this.”

“And at the end of these two weeks?” T'Challa spoke up. “Is your proposal that, if two weeks are not enough, that we follow your idea and end it ourselves?”

“No,” Steve said, and took a deep breath. “At least, we're not the ones who will make that decision.” He took the few steps up to the table and laid his hands flat on it. “In two weeks, if we come to nothing, then I want this to go public.”

Tony took in the stunned silence and listened to his heart pounding in his ears.

“You said that your children, your students, your people,” Steve looked between each person in the room in turn, “everyone you care for, deserve a choice, in what happens to them, and in who their actions will affect. I want us to offer that to them.”

“A vote. Continue life as it is, or end it in a a great and noble sacrifice,” Charles said quietly. “Either way, life would never be the same.”

Namor's shoulders shook with barely-restrained laughter. “Democracy. A vote of the people. It's exactly the sort of thing I'd expect from you.”

“Do you think it'll work in your favor?” Stephen said gravely. “Do you think there are enough people in the world who would follow the plan you desire?”

“I don't know.” Steve shrugged, a self-deprecating smile playing at his lips “I can't say that there's no option I'd rather have people pick. But I can't say I've always understood the hearts of the people I've dedicated my life to protecting.” There was a deep longing, something like sorrow, to his words that made Tony edge closer to him.

“There will be a split,” Reed said. “There will be people who will be unable to stand the thought of the other option being decided upon. It's only natural, when it involves matters of life and death.”

“I know.” Steve was the epitome of that, after all. “But that's how decisions are made,” Steve continued. “Not like this, with a small, select group, hidden to the public eye.”

Tony cleared his throat loudly. “The Infinity Bracelet is in the custody of the Avengers. As the other representative of the team, I...stand with Steve on the matter. And I'll add that, one, almost any plan we can come up with would require as much of the Infinity Shards' power we could muster, and, two, their usage is contingent on compliance with this proposal.”

And there it was. It was fair. It was extortion. It was right to sacrifice the few for the many. It was wrong to kill people, no matter the reason.

T'Challa leaned back in his chair. He spoke slowly, as if he were trying to convince himself. “I do not value and respect my people because they are innocent and pure, but because they are worthy of it. Offering this to them...”

Charles steepled his hands. “If it were up to the majority, mutants wouldn't be around anymore. Putting our fate into others' hands like this – you'll understand if I have reservations about it?”

“As opposed to taking others' fate into our own hands?” Stephen asked. He closed his eyes. “If it's the Captain, then this is a yes or no matter. So I'll settle this quickly on my own behalf, and say that I believe this is as fair a compromise as I could agree upon.”

The others looked sharply at each other at Stephen's words. It didn't take too long for them to reach the same agreement, albeit some more reluctantly than others. But Tony had expected that much. Everyone in this room would give up their own lives without question, so the possibility of that didn't faze them at all. But they must have reached the same conclusion as Tony himself did.

Rhodey's words rose to the back of Tony's mind again, niggling like they had been since Steve had proposed the idea. But Steve's eyes had finally turned bright then, as he held Tony's shoulders in his hands, and there was nothing that would have convinced Tony to take that from him. Not his own feelings, which still churned in protest, nor the knowledge that wormed his way into his chest, cold with certainty.

For people like me, there never was a place outside of Earth.

Futurist indeed, Tony thought with some scorn. The thought squeezed at him as he considered that he and Steve had spent almost their entire lives making sure that people like that existed. In peace. Without as much care and sacrifice as they'd forced on their own lives.

Because the truth was, there weren't so many soldiers in the real world.

Tony remembered a conversation he'd had with Jan once before, when she'd told him about how in one of her university classes they'd talked about the concept of time as a social construct, and wouldn't it have been great if villains took that into account and stopped rampaging through the city right at the exact worst possibles moments?

When he had tried that one on Pepper, he'd gotten paperwork shoved into his arms with a particularly unamused expression.

The thought drifted through his head at a point he no longer knew how long he'd been awake for. Tony wondered if this was the result humanity had brought upon themselves, forcing boundaries where they hadn't belonged in the first place. Or had they just conceptualized what already existed out there? Was time real? And right now, it was the most concrete thing that Tony could think of.

They were almost a week in and counting. And didn't they all know it?

Several hours after their agreement, they dived with vigor into their task, they had quickly realized the limits of collaboration, and went their separate ways in brainstorming, agreeing to reconvene at the end of the week. The decision came after the increasingly heated argument they'd had over which approach to pool their efforts towards.

Stephen supported a magical approach to strengthen the integrity of the Infinity Shards. “They have the raw power to do what we require,” Stephen had assured them. “We just need to construct a way to not force the energy out of them all at once, which risks overloading the structure. It's a paradox between maintaining physicality and transience.”

“It's certainly a matter of drawing out the energy we need,” Reed said, “but I'd argue that it's far more difficult to refine the process of obtaining energy before rather than after. I'd say a catalysis would be a simpler method. Even if our process is crude, we'll have far more options if we can force the shards to react quickly rather than maintain continued stress upon them while trying to ease it out.”

“And risk losing them?” Stephen shook his head. “I know my science as well, Reed. But I've had to learn not to take unnecessary risks firsthand.”

“Surgeons have one of the most time-sensitive occupations, so you would know,” Tony interjected. “When you're working against the clock, you have to address the most prominent area first. If we don't figure out how to harness the shards' power successfully, there's no point in trying to reinforce the structure.”

“But what could we use as a catalyst?” T'Challa said. “We don't exactly have any ideas on that can jump start the physical manifestation of a universal concept.”

Steve cleared his throat loudly. His arms were crossed as he stared down at the table. “What it sounds like to me, is that all of your ideas have potential. You all have different specialties. But we don't need to waste our breath arguing on deciding what approach to take, or which is the most viable, like it's going to happen right at this very moment. If we have time, no matter how limited, we'll use it to the best of our abilities.”

He looked up at them. “I propose we split up for now and pursue our own avenues, and reconvene knowing exactly what these proposals would entail and use that to decide from there.”

There was a moment as the people in the room glanced at each other. From Tony's assessment, they seemed about as placated as when a break was called in the middle of a board meeting when tensions ran too high. Which was essentially what had just occurred.

“And the Infinity Bracelet?” Charles said. “We can't get very far even in the planning stage without testing or understanding the bracelet's role in it.”

“I'll take care of that.” Steve squared his shoulders. “I'm not the idea person here. I'm the one who executes the plan. As the handler, I'll be on call, but I'll spend this time visiting everyone in their respective workshops and labs with the bracelet. I'll do the most I can, but we can't afford to put it to use without knowing all the possible consequences, first.”

“It's better than listening to us bicker with each other for hours on end,” Namor acquiesced too easily to have been seriously invested in the debate. Everyone else soon followed without much protest.

“You just wanted an excuse to get us out of there, didn't you?” Tony asked as they headed out of the room together. Steve sighed and leaned his shoulder against Tony's, tangling his fingers between Tony's.

“Let's go home.”

But home hadn't felt much like it.

Tony told Pepper it was an Avengers emergency, and classified, and to not bother him, and left her to fend for herself and the company, hanging up the phone to worried, insistent questions. It was fine, Tony told himself. In the end, he was really doing this for her sake.

Jarvis had frowned, bewildered, at the orders, which was enough of a judgment.

“Only Steve's allowed into the lab,” Tony said shortly, refusing to feel guilty at the disapproval. With Steve's job, Tony didn't expect he'd see much of him anyway.

That evening, in that blurred setting between night and morning, Steve finally entered the workshop. He set down a cup of coffee next to Tony, who could only grin perfunctorily. Steve wrapped his arms around Tony's waist, setting his chin on his shoulder with barely a breath, let alone a word.

“What is this?” Steve said, his eyes scanning the computer.

“Extremis. It's a prototype from an old colleague. It'd give me cybernetic powers.” Tony didn't have to look to see Steve's disapproving frown.

“Sounds dangerous,” Steve said carefully.

“Well, you're not wrong there.” Tony felt Steve tense.

“I'm not sure how this relates to us.”

“It's not the Infinity Shards at fault. It's us, for being unable to harness their power properly. I just thought we might be able to benefit from self-enhancement, rather than messing with the shards themselves,” Tony said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. “You know, you've had a long day. You should go to bed.”

“Am I bothering you?”

Tony shook his head. “Just, when I end up putting my fist through a screen, I don't think you'll want to be here.” He regretted the words immediately. It was the last thing Steve needed to hear. Tony resisted the urge to grind his teeth in frustration.

“Nonsense. You'll find something. You're not doing this, though. Too high-risk.” Steve turned his head to nudge Tony's neck with his nose. A few moments passed in silence. “Can I stay here?” Steve finally mumbled, words so rushed and quiet Tony took a moment as he processed the words.

“Yeah, get some shut-eye on the cot.”

Another beat. “...You'll join me?”

“Soon enough,” Tony said, reaching to run his fingers over Steve's hand.

The rest of the week passed similarly, Steve coming by late in the evenings. At first he'd ask Tony about his projects, but learned soon enough not to. Tony's guilt at that was drowned out by the sheer relief of not having to admit his failures.

Instead, Tony communicated mostly with Reed and T'Challa about their own projects, but no reprieve came out of hearing about the dead ends they were running into, either.

If he could just concentrate for longer, there would be a breakthrough. There had to be. Steve believed it, and Tony...believed it too. His head throbbed as he poured through all the data, went searching through any scrap that could point in any direction to follow.

There was no groundwork here. They had no real understanding of the Infinity Shards, and with their limited testing couldn't get any consistent measurements out of them. But how would you even quantify the power of the universe?

So their scientific efforts turned theoretical – how to use the shards to dislodge the Earth, counter the Earth's pull, warp their own position, anything. Meanwhile, Steve began to spend most of his time at the Sanctum Santorum to answer the question of if they could even use the shards in the first place.

The night before they all had agreed to reconvene, Steve entered Tony's workshop early in the evening. He rocked on his heels. Tony could hear him, because he had lost his concentration a while back. His eyes felt like they were on fire as they bore a hole into the screen.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?” Tony leaned back and put his hands behind his head. He turned to face Steve, who blinked at him in surprise.

“Hey,” Steve said, voice soft and expression growing genuinely delighted, “nice to see you're finally paying attention to me.”

“It's not my fault you're not around.” Tony suddenly felt like slapping himself as Steve stiffened. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“No, it's nothing. I wonder if I could just leave the Infinity Bracelet with Stephen. That would make things a lot easier for us.”

Tony fidgeted self-consciously at the implication that Steve would rather spend time with him, an idea he was still unused to. Or maybe Steve just meant here in the mansion, that must have been it – few of them could do much to help Stephen. “Well, that won't do. You're its holder, after all. That's your job.”

“My job. Right.” Steve took a seat on the nearby couch without a further word, leaning his head back. After a moment of silence – “This past week – you all are doing so much. Working so hard.” Tony had to suppress a snort at that, before Steve continued. “I've seen it, how much and how far everyone can go.” He opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “And all I can do is just sit here, watch, and trust that you all know what you're doing.”

Tony sat next to him, ran a hand down through Steve's hair and left it lingering on his neck.

“I'm sorry,” Steve blurted. “I don't know what's gotten into me, trying to feel sorry for myself – ”

“No,” Tony said. “That's not what you should be apologizing for.” How could he even articulate, how much Steve's faith meant to him? Hearing Steve deride himself like that was wrong beyond all else. He shook his head again, to make it certain.

Steve's momentary vulnerability brought Tony's doubts bubbling to the forefront. He scooted closer. “Well?” He tried to keep his voice light. “Do you trust me?”

Steve's eyes flickered to him, then away. Tony tried to push down the wave of rejection that washed over him. Steve turned to his side, wrapped his arms around Tony's waist, and buried his face into the juncture between neck and shoulder.

“Yes,” he whispered, breath ghosting warm and damp against Tony's skin. “Always.”

It wasn't enough.

Not enough time, not enough knowledge, not enough resources, not enough anything. Tony didn't want to face Steve. He didn't want to feel the betrayal weighing on his shoulders as they admitted the truth.

His best wasn't good enough. At this point, it should have stopped surprising him.

“We should make preparations for how to disclose this situation to the public,” Stephen admitted before the rest of them could bring themselves to say it aloud.

It was two days before their two-week deadline. Before the universe collapsed, two days could have been time to stop the world's end thrice over. Now, it wasn't enough to save them even once.

If they were the ones to make the announcement, then all eyes would be on them. A press conference?

“If you have ideas on how to do that without inciting mass panic, be my guest,” Namor drawled as he leaned his cheek against his fist.

“Usually the world-ending situation resolves itself before we find the need to alert the worldwide public.” Reed tilted his head, stroking at his chin.

A meeting with the United Nations?

T'Challa grimaced. “They have no real power.”

“Said by the most telling member.” Namor rolled his eyes. “Well, other than Victor von Doom himself.”

“It'll just be a formality,” Tony said. “Impart how this is a world-wide matter, and not just, well, having to do with,” he waved a hand at Steve, who quirked an eyebrow at him. “You know what I mean. Wakanda can arrange to an emergency special session with the General Assembly within the day. Breaks all the UN protocols, but if you look at who's backing this call up – that's one hell of a good way to begin publicizing the matter.”

“The Avengers, Fantastic Four, and X-Men always have eyes on them. If even the Atlantean king will be making a appearance...” Stephen tapped his finger on the table, “I attract a more esoteric crowd, myself, but there can be no mistaking their influence.”

“It's not about influence, or getting the right people's attention,” Steve piped up sharply. “It's about getting everyone's attention.” He stood up, reaching his hand out so that the hologram of the Earth hovering above the table spun. “We'll spend the rest of our time up until then spreading the word. Call in any favors, find as many ways to broadcast this in as many languages as we can. Internet, TVs, radios, any technology we can disperse. Magic if that's what we need.” He looked at each of them in turn. “We'll get this done.”

The smothering tension in the room shifted in anticipation. Tony could see everyone calculating their next action, formulating the plans that hadn't come to them in far too long. This was finally something to do, something useful for the people who rarely felt so nowadays.

Steve met his eyes and nodded, and Tony knew whose thoughts he was sharing.

It wasn't enough, but it would do for now.

Steve's eyes were closed, lips moving slightly, reciting words that would, in a matter of minutes, bring the entire world to a standstill.

Tony placed a hand on his thigh, and Steve's eyes flitted open. Tony offered a smile, which he realized after a start wouldn't do much past the blank faceplate.

It seemed to work anyway, Steve's shoulders relaxing, and he smiled in return.

Someone's head appeared around the corner. “They're ready for you, Captain. Iron Man,” she added as an afterthought.

Steve heaved a breath as Tony stood.

At least there was no better man to do this.

They walked side-by-side out into the large meeting room. As if on cue, the chatter of animated conversations died down to a buzz of murmurs. Flashes of bright light popped in the corner of Tony's vision as the photographers turned on them. It was an ironic sort of humor, the idea that these images of them would be sold, copyrighted, used for profit considering what they were about to disclose.

On the other hand, it meant they had succeeded in one aspect: they'd done a hell of a job doing publicity in a very short amount of time to get the world's eyes and ears on them.

T'Challa, already at the stand, finished introducing Steve, more for formality's sake than anything else. Captain America was unmistakable no matter where they were.

Reed stood with Charles, who was wheeled off to the side. When Tony followed Charles's gaze he found that even the oft-empty seat for Genosha was occupied, Magneto having deigned them with their presence today. Stephen, not usually one for the limelight, and Namor, for which that evaluation was a vast understatement when it came to human matters, also stood close by.

T'Challa took a spot next to Tony as Steve stepped up to the podium to the sound of polite applause. He placed his hands on the stand and cleared his throat. The room went silent.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'd like to begin by thanking you for having us, especially on such short notice. But that's a matter of necessity on your part, when Wakanda, one of the most isolationist member states, calls for an emergency session backed by a few of the most prominent members of the superhero community.” With that, Steve shifted past the social niceties. His vague smile dropped off. The tension racketed up several notches.

“You're probably wondering why the Avengers requested an audience with you. We govern our own, for the most part, and it works, for the most part. But you govern the world, and that's what we need today. Because this is a decision that extends beyond superheroes. Because this is a decision that we need everyone for. Us, the people who protect the world, and you, the people we protect.

“Three months ago, Earth came face to face with the greatest threat we had ever faced. But that's a story we all already know and doesn't need to bear repeating. What stands is that we survived. Not undamaged, and not without our share of loss. But in these three months, we have learned to live, and adapt, and move on, and that resilience makes me proud to stand here in front of you all.” Steve turned his head to skim his eyes over the crowd.

“And here, I'll digress. I want to tell you a story, and I assure you, it will make sense in the end.” Steve took a breath. “A couple of years back, I met a very special person. Someone that a very select few, usually those belonging to my particular profession, get to meet. Whether this meeting makes me lucky or unlucky depends on who I'm telling the story to.” He grinned then, a boyish smile that made Tony feel a bit weak in the knees.

Steve's shoulders had relaxed. Some of the delegates were smiling. Others were frowning, instead, and Tony could hear the sound of people translating Steve's words on the fly. But no matter anyone's reaction, the one guarantee was that everyone remained avidly listening. How couldn't they?

“That person I met...was me.” Steve paused to shrug his shoulders, the easy smile brightening his face again. “From another universe. But still me, so, yes, he was also Captain America in his world. Led a team of Invaders in World War 2, led a team of Avengers in the modern era, with names you're all familiar with. Iron Man. Thor. Wasp.

“But there was more than just that. We were so caught up in the similarities between us, and in the end, it turned out we didn't know each other at all. You see, this Cap had a wife. Had a daughter. She was five. Her name was Sarah.” Steve smiled again, but this one was for himself, private. “And then I saw a photograph, because I had to ask. Who wouldn't? He carried one around on his uniform, just like any soldier would. When I saw that photograph, the feeling that overcame me was indescribable. Sadness. Happiness. Hope. Maybe some fear and trepidation. But the closest feeling I could say, was that it was something like nostalgia, and let me tell you, that's something I'm keenly familiar with.” A soft chuckle went through the room as Steve smiled, because everyone shared in Captain America's secret. Steve nodded. “I never even met Sarah, but I loved her, all the same.

“It went even further than that. If you've heard of me, then you've also heard of Bucky. The greatest partner a man could ask for, and one who sacrificed his life to help win the war. For the good of humanity. On this Cap's Earth, Bucky was alive. That...that hit me even harder than learning I had a daughter in another life. This was someone I'd grieved and mourned over. And he was alive. Can you imagine that? Have you ever imagined how it feels to cry out of joy and grief at the same time?"

Steve closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were bright and glassy. “Three months ago, we saved the Earth. But not without its cost. Not without losing the universe that was its home. But it goes further than that, deeper than we ever could have imagined.

“Our survival destabilized the multiverse. The vast network of universes out there, where countless other mes, and countless other yous are. Simply put, our continued existence has created a chain reaction, a cascading failure of life itself.

“The greatest threat that people on other Earths face is us. I know how it sounds. Impossible. Incomprehensible. How could this happen? We haven't done anything. We didn't ask for this. To the entirety of the multiverse, our Earth isn't even comparable in scale. We're so small, so we can't possibly mean that much. Besides, all we wanted to do was keep on living.

“We've been trying to find a way to fix this. Everything we can. But with the whole of the power of the universe at our hands, we've found nothing. No way to stop this. No way to help anyone.

“While we wait and search for a way out, there are already universes out there dying. The longer we wait, the more die. There are Sarahs out there who will never grow up. There are people we've loved and lost who aren't just memories out there, who are living their lives to their fullest, like we wished with all our being they could have. The easiest, quickest, and only sure way to ensure their lives – you already know the answer, don't you? It's at the cost of our own.

“How can I ask this of you?” Steve paused, hesitating visibly. “I'm not saying we don't deserve our survival. Our own happiness. I know, more than anyone, that we earned it. But the choice we made decides not only our own fate, but those of countless others. Countless yous. Countless mothers, and fathers, and sons and daughters. Everyone you've ever loved, and so many others you never knew you could. We're not small. We're not meaningless. We're the exact opposite. We're the most important versions of ourselves, standing here with the rest of their lives laid out before us.

“I believe in you.” Steve's voice suddenly came out choked, wavering. “If you look in your hearts, you'll make the best decision. Maybe it's not the one you want, but it's the one everyone needs.” He made a few aborted attempts at speaking further, before nodding quickly. “Thank you.”

When Steve stepped back, it didn't break the stunned silence. Tony swallowed, but it didn't ease the lump in his throat.

“Damn,” T'Challa breathed next to him. Tony didn't think he could even force himself to say something, his throat too tight and eyes too hot.

When Steve had proposed his idea to them, the conclusion had been foregone. It was wrong, and moreover, he was asking for the impossible. It almost seemed like an indulgence, to sate the most obstinate among them. After all, how could you possibly convince an entire world to lay down their lives? It was a hopeless task from the start.

Tears stung at the edges of Tony's eyes as he reached out a hand to steady Steve as he came to stand besides him. Steve tried to smile at him, but his lips were trembling.

If there was anyone they could ask for the impossible, Steve may have just delivered.

Now it was time to wait, and didn't that sting, that they had to cede even more to what had become their worst enemy?

Over the next few days, it was like the end times really had come. Voices exploded over the world – demanding, questioning, panicking, despairing. Accepting.

Whose vote counted? What about children? Could you put an age restriction on the decision to live? What five-year-old would want to die? What about the mentally ill? What about the elderly?

“We'll do everything in our power to assure the safety of our citizens,” world leaders urged. “Please stay calm.”

“This is God's will. It's simply our time to go to him, and I plan on walking into his open embrace.”

“What was the point of trying? I studied my ass off, got into med school, almost finished up my residency...and then this? There's supposed to be something after this. I spent my entire life working for an after that won't even come?”

“I won't become a murderer. I guess it's that simple. I'm with Cap on this one.”

“I don't care about myself, but how could you ask me to do this to my children?”

“It'll be painless, right? I'm sure they'll find some way to make it just like falling asleep. I don't mind, as long as it doesn't hurt. I can't imagine living on knowing what's happening, anyway...”

“What's the point of the Avengers, if not to prevent stuff like this from happening!? That Cap is a sham! I trusted him, but in the end, he's just as bad as the rest of them, telling us how to live our lives! Telling us we have to pay for his mistakes!”

“Turn it off, Clint.”

“Really, Carol? Front row seats to the eve of the apocalypse, and you're not going to let me enjoy it?”

Carol went up to the TV and jammed the power button. The screen went black. “I said off.”

“She didn't even try for the remote,” Clint said, looking at Tony and shrugging with a sheepish grin. “She meant business.”

Tony cleared his throat, just as Steve and Jan walked into the room. Clint froze up, tossing the remote unconvincingly to the other side of the couch.

“You're being rather flippant over the whole ordeal, Clint,” Jan said a bit coolly.

Clint just shook his head. “What else is there to be? I like to think I got used to this sort of scenario ages ago.” He fell silent then, wringing his hands, and no one else deigned to speak up.

No, this wasn't the same. There would be no punching their way past villains and evildoers here. Hell, there wasn't even a diplomatic way to resolve this. Moreover, the reason they had become tight-lipped and tiptoed around the subject – it was about Steve, who had simultaneously become the martyr of the world and public enemy number one.

It was about not knowing what outcome to wish for, not knowing what victory entailed, and with that simple fact, hope had fallen through their fingers.

“I think it may be advisable to leave the news outlets off in the common rooms,” Wanda said quietly, eyeing Steve carefully.

Steve smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. “No need for that, Wanda. I did this, knowing what it would entail. This is what I've wrought upon the people of the world.” He shrugged, lips quirking again, and Tony felt sick.

Tony didn't want that. He didn't want Steve to be the one with this burden. Tony should have been the one to give the speech, the face people would have put to the sacrifice. But he knew at the same time that would have been pointless. Who would listen to him, but for his money and technological know-how? Where did that matter here?

Steve was the only person who could have made this, a matter of morality, a choice.

And all they could do now, as Avengers, was do what was best for the world and its people. But this time, it wasn't up to them to determine what that meant.

There was a buzzing in the back of Tony's head. There were words coming out of the Secretary-General's mouth that weren't registering, that only served to intensify the sensation.

“This choice was not an easy one to make, but we believe we have reached the decision that will hopefully quell everyone's concerns. The collective leaders of the world have elected to work closely with the superhero community to find a solution to the incursions. This threat we face will be dealt with, while always keeping the safety of our citizens as our highest priority.”

More pomp and platitude followed, but Tony couldn't hear them past the roaring in his ears. The grip on his heart had lifted, only to replaced with a sinking dread in the pit of his stomach.

We'll find a way. We'll make this right.

How long could they say that? Was there a point that the scales tipped, where it wasn't worth it to fight? To search endlessly for the right way along the path to hell? Nothing could take away the wrongs that had been committed to reach this place.

Tony shook his head. There had to be a point. There was always a meaning, a reason to keep going. And here was the chance to find it.

Steve was hunched over in his chair, his hands pressed to his face, squeezing harder and harder. Tony swallowed, hand hovering, not sure how to reach out. If he even had the right to.

Steve had never asked him what he voted, and thus, Tony would never speak it aloud.

After all, for Steve Rogers, the scales had tipped long before anyone had ever heard the word incursion.

This time, Steve didn't even attempt to leave the mansion.

That didn't mean he tried to leave their room.

“Steve?”

Steve buried his face deeper into the sheets, bunched up around his arms.

“Do you want to go downstairs to eat?”

Steve shook his head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Steve shook his head again, and Tony bit his lip as something crumbled inside him.

“I can bring you something up.” He turned, his limbs growing cold. Steve grabbed Tony's hand, stopping him in place. His grip tightened.

Tony eased back to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his thumb over Steve's knuckles. Steve leaned into Tony, bumping his forehead into Tony's thigh. Tony squeezed back, shifting so he could run fingers through Steve's hair.

No matter what he did, Steve wouldn't stop trembling.

When they woke up again, hours later, Steve curled into Tony.

“Come on, Steve,” Tony whispered into his hair.

Steve's arms tightened around him, so that it was almost painful. Tony rubbed a hand over his back, before sitting up, carefully disentangling himself from Steve's grasp.

When Steve's eyes finally opened, they were sunken. Tony took a step out of bed, Steve's hand in his own.

“You don't have to leave. We don't have to see anyone. Just a shower.” Tony's voice didn't crack as he pleaded, though it was a close thing.

Silence passed between them, much like the rest of the morning, but now it became charged, waiting.

“Okay,” Steve finally said, voice hoarse. It was the first word Tony had heard all morning from him.

In the relentless, nearly scalding stream, Steve's arms wrapped around Tony, Steve's face buried in his shoulder, Tony closed his eyes and didn't call attention to how Steve's body shook with uncontrollable, silent sobs.

Two weeks later, twice the original allotted time they had given themselves to find a solution, they had come no closer to one.

Steve had finally begun to leave the room on a semi-regular basis a week ago. Less so, from the mansion proper. Maybe it was the whole “our existence is ending those of countless others,” but there had been no reason for the Avengers to assemble ever since the decision had been declared.

But when you thought about the whole thing as Steve's time to grieve, it was shockingly quick. Then again, this was the man who not only adjusted to a new century, but became one of its heroes.

Tony was glad for it. Even if the gaping, endless stretches of emptiness had given way to something erratic, more uncertain. Even if Steve flinched away from his touch one moment only to sink into it the next. Snap at him, bristle at the most seemingly inconsequential things, and be fine at others, smiling and having it reach his eyes.

It was worth it, just for those moments where Steve reacted.

In other times ( without Steve ), Tony may have went through the motions. Wake up, go to work, his limbs working but everything hollow on the inside. He'd done it before for less. He still felt like that now, sometimes. But there was a precipice here, and when he was in danger of standing at its edge, he had to remind himself the consequences if he fell, which had become greater than the sum of its parts.

For the world's sake. For the multiverse's sake. For his and Steve's sake, he had to try.

So when Reed called for another meeting, to discuss their options once again, Tony watched Steve closely. Steve agreed, of course. He was still the holder of the Infinity Bracelet, after all.

“Steve, are you ready?” Reed's head rose a foot to peer at Steve, who was standing on the platform.

“Yeah,” Steve said, flexing his hand. “Infinity Bracelet is starting, now.”

The room became awash in the glow of the shards, their light blinding even through the goggles Tony wore. He crossed his arms, frowning.

If you had told Tony a few months ago that there would come a point where he wouldn't even bat an eye at the Infinity Bracelet ten feet in front of him he would have rolled his eyes and laughed you out of the room. Now that he stood here, hours into testing, it was no longer funny. But the reverence mingled with a roiling unease wasn't gone. It was still there, in the thrumming of the machines, more pronounced, and a buzzing in the air that kept him fidgety. None of that had changed, but now Tony paid more attention to something else.

Steve's breath shuddered, catching at random intervals. His shoulders were tense, and at times Tony even caught them trembling. Steve's tongue darted out, licking over his lip. He grit his teeth as he squinted at the Infinity Bracelet circling his wrist.

Tony shifted from one foot to the other, watching him.

T'Challa, leaning over the monitors, spoke. “Can you use the Mind Shard again?”

“Sure.” Steve closed his eyes, and the other shards dimmed as the Mind Shard shined bright blue.

“Hold that for a moment,” Reed said, tapping away at the keyboard.

The majority of their prior efforts had been geared toward the Space Shard's powers, but now they turned to the other shards in hopes for a different approach. Sure, the incursions were presumably a issue of space – there were few other ways to conceptualize the imagery of two Earths colliding – but there were always novel ways to tackle a problem. Not just for the sake of finding something, but for the sake of hope. Somehow down the line, it had become the most important thing to cling to.

“Okay,” Reed finally called out. “I think we've gathered enough data from the Mind Shard as is.”

Steve didn't need the prompting to stop, the tension in the room snapping as the bracelet made a popping sound and the shards dimming. He brought a hand through his hair, leaving it slicked back with sweat. He panted harshly as he closed his eyes.

“Let's take a break,” Tony announced.

“I'm fine,” Steve said, opening his eyes and straightening immediately at Tony's words.

Tony hesitated. “Didn't say the break was for you,” he said shortly, tensing as Steve shot him a glare.

“Tony has a point.” Reed stepped back from the monitors. “Using the bracelet is exhausting, both physically and mentally. Even if you don't feel it at the moment, its effects will take their toll soon enough. We can't risk our holder burning out.”

Steve shook his head. “That won't happen.” Tony bit back a retort. He breathed out through his nose, calming himself.

“Like I said, I need a break, so I'll be back in a sec.” Tony turned on his heel and left without stopping to gauge everyone else's reaction.

It took a minute of idling before the window at the end of the hallway before Steve marched right up next to him.

“What was that?” Steve demanded.

“What was what? I wanted a break. Just being around that thing makes me antsy.”

“That thing is our way to saving countless lives.”

“I know that. Still doesn't make me like it when it gives me a migraine to be around. Forgive me for being so weak,” Tony snapped.

The words hung in the air between them. Steve's expression was wide-eyed, the shock mingling with regret. Then, in a rush, the fight went out of him. He shook his head and took a step back. “You're not the weak one here,” he said quietly.

“Steve...”

“You're anything but,” Steve continued. “Where do you think I'd be right now, if you weren't – ” He paused abruptly, looking stricken for a split second. “I'm sorry. I've said too much.”

Tony stepped forward and took Steve in an embrace before he could think better of it. After a moment, Steve's arms wrapped back around Tony.

“You're fine,” Tony mumbled. “I just worry about you.”

“You shouldn't...”

It was the way he said it, resigned and defeated and so unwholly how Steve should be that gave Tony his courage. “Well, saying that won't stop me when I'm already in love with you, Rogers.” Tony leaned back, cupping Steve's face between his hands. His heart pounded painfully as his stomach did flips at what he'd just said. He couldn't read Steve's expression at all, carefully blank.

After a long moment. Steve blinked and nodded slowly. He rubbed his cheek against Tony's hand, a smile slowly spreading over his face. “Okay.”

His hand closed over Tony's and he stepped back, letting their hands swing together between them.

“I...we can go back in, if you want,” Tony said quickly, avoiding Steve's eyes in favor of looking at their joined hands. His voice sounded distant to his own ears.

“Yeah.” Steve's hand squeezed his. “I love you too.”

When they walked back into the room moments later, their hands joined, Tony couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips. T'Challa raised an eyebrow at them, but didn't say anything. Reed didn't seem to notice.

Steve retrieved the shards from their container and stepped up to the platform. It had been ten minutes at most, but he seemed rejuvenated, his eyes bright.

“We'll work on the Time Shard next,” T'Challa said.

Just like that, the moment had passed, like a gust of wind had swept past the room. Steve froze as he stared at T'Challa. The hairs on Tony's back stood on end.

“Can we do the Soul Shard instead?” he found himself asking.

“There is a distinct difference between the Mind and the Soul, but they're still within the same realm of influence,” Reed said, frowning. “I thought it might be more beneficial to see what we can do with the Time Shard first, although if you insist – ”

“It's fine,” Steve said. His voice was odd, like he wasn't really listening. He flexed his hand. “If you think it'll be the most helpful, then I want to do this.”

Tony straightened, biting his lip, skin feeling like it was crawling.

“We'll go now,” T'Challa said.

Steve nodded, raising his arm. The Infinity Bracelet formed, and the room grew cold, its presence more oppressive than ever. A chill ran down Tony's spine, the feeling of dread it left behind inescapable. This wasn't like the other times, not even when the bracelet had been seconds away from shattering.

The orange Time Shard shone, bright enough that Tony threw up a hand to shield his eyes. Steve gasped.

At the moment the Time Shard snapped, the other shards went black.

“Steve!” Tony shouted, breaking into a sprint.

There was a ear-splitting crack, and Tony threw himself to the ground.

Steve's words echoed in his head to the sound of alarms being triggered.

If we only cared about ourselves – that's the selfish sort of thinking that's gotten us here in the first place!

The Infinity Bracelet acted on the will of its user. If it had tapped into that, when the person's mental fortitude was already worn away by repeated exposure, who could say it could tell the difference between explicit intent and a deep-seated longing?

“Steve!” Tony cried out, crawling toward Steve's prone body. Gravity itself worked against him, his limbs flattened out by the Infinity Bracelet, floating solitary above Steve's body.

Tony didn't care about any of that. When he reached Steve's body and rolled him over, Steve stared up at him. No, not at him – past him, into the distance.

“That's not fair,” Steve finally said, quiet. He coughed, and a trail of blood dripped from the side of his mouth.

“Steve!” Tony's voice cracked as he brought Steve's head on his lap. “Someone, get help!” he shouted over his shoulder, until he realized both T'Challa and Reed, both standing at the moment of the explosion, had been thrown back into the wall. They weren't moving.

“It won't work,” Steve said, and Tony turned back to him, frantic, the weight of the words coming down like a hammer. “Going back then – if we had tried, we would have just all been crushed. Like this. Like me. I wanted to see, I wanted to know, and this would have been our fate.” Tears began to fall from his eyes. “Would that have been better?”

Tony's throat felt too tight. “Then it was the right thing.” The words rushed out of him, desperate, trying to shove past the reality of the moment, lest it smother him. “See? You didn't do anything wrong, back then. You saved people,” he choked out. “You saved me.”

“Please, Tony. It can't be like this.” All pretenses dropped between them, tears flowing freely from Steve's eyes now. “You have to save them – ”

“I know,” Tony said, his heart hammering. “I'll do it. And you'll do it with me, come on, Steve,” he pleaded, but what he wanted didn't matter. Couldn't matter, in the face of the universe. At its end of the universe, at their destruction, and Tony saw that now, in the man he would have done it all for lying in his arms.

“I told you before. I trust you. Always.” But Steve was still crying, and Tony reached out, taking Steve's face between his fingers and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. The blood began to spread on Steve's uniform, from some wound torn from the end of the universe he'd seen. The more blood seeped into Tony's hands, the less tears that flowed, until they stopped.

“Steve,” Tony said, breaking, “I'll do it, I'll do it, I promise.” Steve's tears were replaced with his own, falling on his face.

He repeated the words again, seeing the light in Steve's eyes soften at them. He repeated the words, over and over like a mantra, until Steve's eyes closed and his body went limp in Tony's arms.

Tony leaned over until his forehead touched Steve's. If he was weaker, he might have given in and crumpled into bits right there.

He couldn't. Steve himself had said that Tony was strong. It was a lie, but it was Steve's lie, and that was enough for him. Tony reached up, grabbed the Infinity Bracelet, and yanked it out of the air, his arm feeling like it would rip off for a split second. But that second passed, and then his entire body went back to hollowness and tingled with unbearable tremors at the same time. But that hadn't been caused by the shards.

Steve trusted Tony, with his own life, with the lives of everyone that ever existed. That alone was enough to push away the despair and the sorrow, embrace this sensation that felt like plunging headfirst into ice.

Tony knelt there, like his time had stopped. He couldn't even shiver.

He had a promise to fulfill, after all.