A/N: Avengers Infinity War Spoilers below…
Humbled
The head.
The head.
The head.
How many battles had he fought? How many enemies were under his foot? How many victories had he taken by the might of Mjolnir? How many times had he struck a deathblow? How could he have been so stupid?
Thor knew the power he was fighting against. He knew the might Thanos controled. He knew he had only one chance. And, he had failed.
He had failed his brother, Loki. Such...a...bad...brother.
He had failed his Asgardian people. Decimated by Hela and extinguished by Thanos.
He had failed his adoptive people of Earth. His friends and so many more grieved in the shock of instant death.
He had failed half the beings in the universe. All those who remain grieving over a split second decision that he misjudged.
The head.
The head.
The head.
The Thunder god hung his head in shame.
Scared
Bruce Banner's guilt was no less potent than that of his friends; his shame no less bone-deep. He had been rescued from death by the final act of the Asgardian, Heimdall. As he lay dying, the Guardian must have seen something in the brutal beating that Hulk was receiving at the hands Thanos himself. What that was, Banner could not fathom. What had the Gatekeeper hoped to accomplish? Did he think that Hulk deserved another Title shot? That another confrontation would have a different outcome?
What he could not have foreseen was the Hulk cowering fear, hiding inside Banner, the obviously weaker vessel. What made it all the more nauseating, was that Banner knew that the Hulk was not in fact a separate person, but a part of him. The Hulk, Banner's anger, righteous or not, could not be summoned in the face of the greatest threat the universe had ever encountered. He had been week. He had allowed himself to be disabled. All but useless without his alter ego, he had been forced to use Tony's Hulkbuster armor. It had been enough for the fighting he had engaged, but how much more could the Hulk have done? At the very least, he could have died with honor.
Relieved
Natahsha Romanov watched in horror as the effect of one snap of the fingers ravaged the Wakandan battlefield. When the invisible scythe of the grim reaper had finished its work, so few were left standing. However, the breath so quickly sucked from her lungs returned just as suddenly at the sight of Steve sitting on a log not far away. She continued her survey and her shoulders, clenched in desperation, released at the sight of Bruce standing next to Thor in the shadow of the Hulkbuster. Wanda was gone. Falcon, Bucky, and T'Challa, as well. Vision lay darkened; as grey and lifeless as the ashes piling up around them.
It took 22 minutes for her phone to buzz. She saw message from Clint and her lips ticked up. The pounding in her head began to subside. Clint was alive. Cooper was with him. Laura, Lila, and little Nate were gone. The drumbeat began anew.
Though her messages to Fury had gone unanswered, she could not believe that odds had failed him this time.
No one seemed to know what to say. No one seemed to want to look at each other. She watched as Steve put his face in his hands. She wanted to got him, to comfort him. She turned to Bruce and could see his inner torment dancing in his down cast eyes. She want to go to him as well. She had missed him. He had made the choice to leave and had somehow lost himself in his quest for answers. She still cared for him, but doubted that the spark they once shared would ever return. And then there was Clint. Her friend. Her brother. Her confidant. At least, he had been in another life. Who would he be now?
Without warning, a wave of guilt crashed down on her. What was she thinking? How could she be relishing those who lived when countless others had died. And not just the nameless and the faceless. Her friends. Her...family. Her core had lived and the shame at her relief clung to her like a putrid parasite. She comforted none of them and ducked out of the cleaning on to the plain where tangible death could distract her, if only for a moment.