Dust
Dust. Nothing but dust. That was all half the galaxy was. How could this happen? How could they have lost?
Sweet, sweet Peter. Gone. Tony couldn't bring himself to think of Peter as dead. Not Peter. He wished to every God and Goddess and Deity he could think of to bring Peter back and take him instead. Oh Peter… Tony had failed him. It was all his fault. What was he thinking, dragging him into the world of the Avengers? He would just be a school kid. But he would still have disappeared. Right? He just didn't know. Then he had said sorry to him before he disappeared. It wasn't Peter's fault. It was his. How could he have just let him die? He had held Peter in his arms as he disintegrated. It was all his fault. Tony let the tears flow.
How could Bucky be gone? Steve knew crying would do no good, but he couldn't help it. They had lost. And Bucky was gone. They had gone through everything together. Everything. They had fought together. Had cried together. Laughed together. No more. Steve let the tears flow.
Rocket raked his claws gently through the dust that was Groot. He couldn't seem to do anything other than do this, Groot's last words, or rather, word, circling around and around his head. Dad… that was what he said. Dad. Rocket didn't realise he had a son until he was just dust in his hands. He wished he had understood earlier. Rocket let the tears flow.
Half of the galaxy gone. In a simple snap of the fingers.
The Avengers would rise again. They may have lost the battle, but they would win the war.