I've had this idea in my head for awhile now, and I have half of it written already. There should be about three chapters, and I'm actually motivated to finish this one. My other stories are still in the works, but this one is my priority right now. I hope to finish this before Endgame comes out so that my idea doesn't get influenced by the movie. Thanks so much for clicking on this story and please enjoy! Leave a review if you liked!

Honestly, he didn't know what to expect.

Death was something he liked to cheat usually, but all of that running and all of that hiding finally caught up with him.

In the form of destruction himself: Thanos.

Loki hadn't planned to die this time, but he supposed he'd set his death in motion as soon as he took the Tesseract from the vault on Asgard. And then Thor's life was threatened, and well, Loki had caused enough problems for his brother. He refused to be the cause of his death.

Of course the knife wasn't going to work, but he'd accepted that. His time had run out, and if Thanos wanted to kill either Thor or Loki, it might as well be Loki.

He'd wanted to steal one last glance at his brother before his vision darkened completely, but Thanos made sure that his smirk would be the last thing Loki ever saw. I'm sorry, Thor, I'm sorry, I'm sorry he wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He choked on air, on nothing, whilst his brother could only watch.

Finally, the pain ceased and Loki saw no more. For a little while, anyway.

He found himself lying in a shallow pool of water, staring up at an orange sky. No, he really hadn't been expecting this. He sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings. While the pool seemed to be water, his hair and his armor weren't wet after lying in it. Maybe this was what Hel looked like; he would be alone forever in an endless orange expanse.

He wasn't alone, though.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…" a small voice trembled to the right of him. Huh, he wasn't there before. Loki turned to see a Midgardian boy dressed in red, blue, and gold iron—curiously like Thor's friend, the Iron Man's suit—also sitting in the pool hugging his knees to his chest.

So maybe this wasn't Hel?

Whoever this boy was, he was obviously in distress and hadn't planned on being there either. Purely out of curiosity, Loki shifted towards the boy and rose from his seated position.

He cleared his throat. "Hello."

The boy's head shot up and his eyes widened with fear. Loki had become used to this response after making his presence known. He couldn't place why he felt a twinge in his stomach as the boy scrambled away from him, though. Had he really become so soft as to care about what mortals thought of him?

"I'm not going to hurt you," Loki said simply.

"I'm-I'm dead. I just died. Oh God—"

"Just calm down for a moment—"

"Blood, there was so much blood… Wait, who-who are you? Where am I?" the boy talked so fast Loki had to strain to hear him.

"I'm…" he hesitated. If this boy was indeed from Midgard, using his name would only distress him further. You're both dead, he reminded himself. What more could he lose? "I am Loki, son of Odin. You're from Earth, yes?"

"Loki…like, New York 2012 Loki! That Loki?"

"So you are from Earth. What's your name?"

The child hesitated. Loki couldn't blame him. As far as anyone else from Earth knew, Loki was just as bad as Thanos—

Loki grimaced, feeling the ghost of the gauntlet around his neck. He was dead. There wasn't any point to this. He was destined to spend eternity apart from Thor, who undoubtedly would find rest in Valhalla.

"Are you okay, Mr. uh, Loki? Maybe you should sit down," the boy had spoken up again. How could he actually care for Loki's well-being? Did he really look so broken? "I'm Peter, by the way."

"I'm alright. Thank you, ah, Peter."

The concerned look on the boy's face quickly shifted back to terror. "I'm dead."

"Most likely, yes. I've been dead before, but this time I think it really might be true," Loki responded. He didn't know why he humored Peter with a response. Perhaps the idea of being alone for eternity was so repulsive he was so relieved to find another person here, even if it was a Midgardian.

"So we're both dead," Peter confirmed.

"Yes. It would appear so."

"Why are we here, then? Is this the afterlife? Why would I be here with an evil guy…?" Peter meant to say it to himself, but of course Loki heard him. He shook his head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"You were wondering if you were in Hel. That's certainly where I thought I'd be. I doubt a boy like you could have done something as terrible as I have in what little life you've lived. No, I daresay this is something else," he said. Loki knew he'd been evil once. No amount of feeling bad or heroics would ever change that. Peter had every right to think that he was sharing space with a villain.

An idea formulated in Loki's mind. This space wasn't Hel, certainly not Valhalla, so where were they?

"You said there was so much blood… how exactly did you die Peter?"

The boy's face blanched. "Thanos." A surge of anger erupted in Loki. How many lives did the fiend need to ruin in order to wage his senseless war?

"So you have something against him too, huh?" Peter's voice cut through his thoughts.

"What?"

The boy nodded to Loki's clenched fists. He hadn't even noticed his nails digging into his palm or his knuckles turning white. He slowly relaxed his hands, reminding himself that Thanos had already beaten him—there was nothing else he could do for the boy either.

Peter sighed and continued. "He wanted this green stone from Dr. Strange, but me, Mr. Stark, Quill and-and some others fought against him."

"You didn't succeed, did you?"

He took a shaky breath before answering, "No."

... ... ...

Stark knew the kid shouldn't have been there. This was the absolute last place he ever wanted him to be. Peter was a strong kid though—a hero. Tony could hardly keep him from a fight that would determine the fate of the universe. Let alone a fight that would put Tony in danger.

He knew he should have been protective over him, but it seemed more and more that Peter only wanted to protect Tony. That's why they were where they were now.

Iron Man had fought tooth and nail with the mad titan, even made him bleed, but it still wasn't enough. He was the most powerful being in the universe, it didn't matter how much of a badass Tony was, he couldn't hold a candle up to four infinity stones.

He crossed his arms in front of his head hoping to block the punch Thanos was about to throw. He probably blocked 50 percent of it; the other 50 sent him flying backwards, the titan trailing him an instant later.

The fight continued and Tony knew he was losing. His whole life as Iron Man had been leading to this. Thanos lived in his head for years ever since he'd witnessed the portal open over his tower. He prepared his suit and his team to perfection, even at the cost of his own relationships. And finally, just finally things we're going perfect with Pepper and he hadn't even thought about Steve in God knows how long, and this purple guy comes in and snatches it all away from him.

Another punch landed in Tony's gut. Like hell he was going to let Thanos take anything away from anyone else. Tony had lived a good life—relatively speaking, after he became Iron Man—and he'd saved so many people. It didn't matter what happened to him, as long as the titan never hurt anyone ever again. He fired his repulsors as Thanos shielded himself with the gauntlet. The nanobots crept over Tony's suit as it repaired itself, and his other repulsor fired soon after. It was working, the titan was backing down and for once was forced into a defensive position.

But not for long.

Thanos gained ground on Tony again and ripped the nanobots clean off his hands.

Shit.

His plan was definitely faulty, but it was a last ditch attempt to get the drop on the titan. The nanobots formed into a knife and Tony reached up towards Thanos's weird-ass chin, he was so close—

(for Pepper, for Peter, for Rhodes, for his friends, even Steve…)

—but his arm was caught, his knife broken off, and Tony knew that it was the end of the road for him. His vision blurred with exhaustion. He'd tried his best, but of course it just wasn't enough. He waited for the sting of iron sinking into his flesh, but was utterly surprised when no such feeling came.

He wished it did.

He heard the shout before he saw the blood. Tony knelt there, blinking rapidly, trying to see what just happened in front of him; why had the titan started smiling?

Peter knelt in front of him, Tony's knife protruding from his stomach.

Tony's world spun again. Where the hell did the kid even come from? He lazily reached out for Peter, but shock kept him from formulating any words or doing anything that might have actually helped him.

Thanos grabbed Peter's shoulders and drove the knife further, so much so that it stuck out of his back. The boy's cry of pain caused Tony to snap out of his shock.

"You son of a bitch—"

The titan only slapped Tony aside. His grin widened as he withdrew the dagger from Peter's stomach and shoved him away from Tony. When he landed with a grunt of pain and didn't try to get back up again, Tony knew he needed to get over there. His nanotech could fix the kid, it had to, he needed to get over there—

"You and your child have my respects, Stark. When I'm done, half of humanity will still be alive," he tilted his head to the side with what looked like sick amusement, "I hope they remember you."

He aimed his gauntlet at Peter while Tony could only look on with horror. "No, nonono don't—!"

"Stop!"

Tony snapped his head around to see Strange struggling to sit up. Now he decides to help out. Couldn't he have said something earlier before Peter got hurt?

"Spare their lives, and I will give you the stone."

Oh.

He couldn't do that. He wasn't supposed to do that. But it was the stone or Peter's life…

Why couldn't it just be Tony? Just kill Tony and keep the stone, let Peter live and send Thanos off looking for powerful jewelry somewhere else.

"No more tricks?"

Strange pulled the time stone out of a pocket in reality as if to say "there's your answer". It floated over to the titan, but Tony could only focus on the uneven wheezes coming from the kid just a few yards ahead of him. As soon as Thanos moved, he had a clear shot to Peter.

The mad titan received the infinity stone and smiled at the gain of power.

"I lost a child today, Stark. I'm sorry you'll have to lose yours, but the stone demands a sacrifice. It's naive to think anything less will appease their power. I'm merciful, so you will get something I was denied: a chance to say goodbye. I would hurry—I don't think you have much time left," he added with a smirk and disappeared into a portal. The bastard thought he knew about mercy and sacrifice…

Tony couldn't think about that though. His only focus was on the kid who was bleeding out right before his eyes.

"Pete, hey, look at me—look at me! You're alright, you're okay…" Tony struggled to work his nanotech to close the wounds on Peter's front and back, but the pool of blood around them only grew.

Why wasn't it working? He made sure he perfected the damn suit, so why wasn't Peter healing?

"-'r Stark… I don't-don't feel so good…" the kid's voice was barely above a whisper. Red spilled from the corners of his mouth and ran down the sides of his cheeks. The blood was everywhere and it wasn't stopping—

"You're alright," Tony repeated. It wasn't even for Peter's benefit. If he denied the fact he was dying then maybe it didn't have to be true. He lifted Peter's head and rested it on his lap, hoping the nanobots had closed the kid's wounds. The blood that leaked onto Tony's shirt and pants begged to differ.

Peter's head lolled to the side to face Stark and his eyes—God, his eyes looked so full of pain—bored into his own.

"I-I don't wanna go Mr. Stark, please, please—" he begged before he convulsed and blood spilled freely past his lips and down his chin.

Shit shit shit. "S-Strange! Dammit, what do I do?! He's bleeding out, I need your help—"

"Tony…"

He spared a glance at Strange. His slumped shoulders screamed "defeat" and the sorcerer looked at Stark with pity.

"We're in the endgame now."

Tony refused to believe that. Peter wasn't allowed to die on his watch. Not because of some stupid purple monster with a god complex. Not because he was trying to save Tony.

"No; he's gonna be okay. You hear me, Pete? I'm gonna get you home."

The kid's face was a sickly white pallor and his eyes seemed to glaze over with pain. His eyelids drooped and Tony feared the worst.

"Pete? Peter, kid, open your eyes, come on—" he tapped the kid's cheek repeatedly. He found that he was almost slapping his face when finally Peter's eyes slowly opened. Tony let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"...hurts, 'r Stark…"

The last thing Tony wanted for the kid was to be in pain and dying in his arms. Now because of him, he was. This was Tony's fault; he gave the kid the suit, he went up against Thanos alone. He thought that he'd faced the worst pain in his life, be it from the shrapnel in his chest to crippling trauma, but this was worse.

This was so much worse.

"I know. That's why I'm gonna fix you up and get you home, okay?" he replied, his voice soft. Tony did everything he could to comfort Peter, even rubbing little circles with his thumbs at his temples, but the kid only winced either way. They were running out of time. If Strange refused to help then Tony would drag Peter back to Earth himself if he had to.

Just then, Mantis, Starlord, Nebula, and Drax bounded up the hill to see the bloody Tony and Peter.

"Quill!" The sight of the "guardian" brought relief Tony never knew he'd feel (especially since it was brought by the presence of the idiot spaceman). "Quill, where's your ship? The kid was hit, he needs help," he said frantically.

Starlord was frozen in place and he looked like he might be sick, his blasters hanging uselessly at his sides. Normally, Tony would be grateful that the guy had finally shut up but now he wanted nothing more than for him to speak.

"Quill!"

Unwillingly, he snapped out of his trance. "Okay, yeah, what do you need me to do?"

"Here, help me lift him up, we'll get him to the ship." Tony waved him over. He let the plan to get to the ship take over his thoughts and only focused on keeping Peter awake until they made it there. Tony wasn't one to give up, so he pushed any worries about failure to the back of his mind. The kid was going to be okay; nothing bad was going to happen.

The two men lifted the boy off the ground, but only earned themselves a cry from Spider-Man that could have pierced Tony's very soul. It was that cry that would haunt Tony at night—that cry that he would remember for the rest of his life.

"Stop…'t h-hurts…" the kid whimpered again. If at all possible, Tony was pretty sure his heart broke even more. More blood spilled from the wound, and they quickly lied Peter back down again.

"You can't move him," Strange had spoken again, the doctor outshining the sorcerer. God, Tony seriously wanted to punch the guy. "His wounds are too severe. You'd have to operate on him now."

"Well, can you?!"

Strange glanced down at his hands, and then back at Tony with tears welled in his eyes. "I can't."

Unbelievable. The bastard thought he could cry when he could be doing something, anything other than just sitting on his ass and handing out infinity stones to psychopaths. They had to do something; Peter needed help, dammit!

"No. No, there's gotta be another way. Bring the damn spaceship here—"

"If we can't move him, then how—"

"Figure it out, Quill! We have to leave now—"

"Tony."

The soft voice came from below him. He'd been so focused on finding ways to save the kid that he almost forgot he held him in his arms. Warm, tear-filled brown eyes gazed up at him, and they were full of pain and—

No, not resignation, Peter couldn't give up, it wasn't over, it wasn't…

"Tell-tell May…"

"No," Tony's voice broke, "don't say that—"

"Please," he begged, his voice even softer than before. "You have to tell her I'm sorry…" he drifted off, eyes drooping closed yet again. There was something unsettling about this time though; it was like he wouldn't open his eyes ever again…

It was then Tony truly began to panic.

"Kid, hey, look at me." He didn't respond. "Pete! Open your eyes!" He didn't stir. "You're not dead, open your damn eyes!"

The Guardians and Strange looked on in sorrow; they feared the worst—

But Peter Parker was one strong-ass kid.

His eyelids lifted up one after the other, but far too slowly for Tony's liking.

He let out a shaky sigh of relief. Peter wasn't gone, and they could go back to pretending they actually had a chance to save him.

"God, kid, you can't do that. There can't be a friendly-neighborhood Spider-Man if there's no Spider-Man, remember?" The callback to Peter's statement from earlier elicited a ghost of a smile from the boy. Seeing him smile always gave Tony a warm, fuzzy feeling (as cliche as that sounded) and now he couldn't have been more glad to see Peter forget his pain if only for a moment.

It just reminded him how young the kid actually was. He was barely 17 years old; he had so much more life left to live, and yet he'd deemed Tony's life more important than his own.

"Why?" he found himself asking aloud.

Peter didn't even have to ask what he meant. "World needs you. Y-you can save it…best defender—I had to."

"No you didn't," Tony's voice broke again, "I should be protecting you, Peter." He smoothed back Pete's hair and for a moment, the kid actually looked comfortable. For a moment, everything was okay.

It didn't last.

Peter sucked in a sharp breath and more blood leaked from his wound and his mouth. "I-I'm sorry, Tony."

No, no, no no. Tony shook his head furiously; this wasn't happening.

" 'M sorry," Peter whispered and his head lolled to the right. His eyes remained open, only this time there was no life in them. Tony was left with only the damaged body of his...his…

He shouldn't say child, but he couldn't think of any other way to describe him.

"Peter? Peter…? Oh-oh my God," Tony whimpered. The kid was dead; his kid was dead. Thanos killed him.

He repeated this over and over to himself as he curled Peter into his chest and rocked back and forth, tears now flowing freely down his face. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't…

The Guardians and Strange hung their heads.

Nebula fumed with anger. She'd seen Thanos torture and kill children—she'd been one of those children—and she'd sworn to herself that she would never let him do something like that again. But now her father (the word left a sour taste in her mouth) had killed Gamora, Stark's companion, and was on his way to killing half the universe. She'd failed.

So when everyone turned to dust except her and Stark, they barely even noticed. Stark still clung to his child's body like a lifeline, begging for him to breathe again. Nebula knelt beside him, letting herself grieve Gamora and even her band of idiot friends.

The boy's blood had pooled around them further, but neither paid any mind.

"He did it."