A/N - Thank you so much for your lovely responses to the last chapter! This one wrestled with me a little more, but I'm choosing to blame that on the fact that it was originally planned for the end of chapter 6. If this experience has taught me anything, it's that my chapter-planning skills are useless!
Thank you again for reading to this point. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
They arrive on familiar Wakandan soil with far less fanfare and suspicion greeting them this time around.
Even the young voice reaching out to them over the comms seems to have been awaiting their signal, going so far as to identify the ship by name before Quill can say a word. Nebula takes that as an assurance that there's at least one person on Earth who remembers as much as she does. Perhaps Steve or Rhodey; someone who was there to greet her when she first arrived and had enough sense to warn the Wakandans of their imminent visitors. Sure enough, as they make their final approach, the only crowd awaiting them is a gathering of Dora Milaje led by Okoye, though if she recognises Nebula when she emerges from the Benatar she gives no indication of it.
The field still shows signs of recent bloodshed, though Nebula notes that it's far less ruined than the sight she'd grown used to over the weeks she stayed here. There's considerably fewer bodies than last time for a start. The earth looks slightly less upturned, as though the battle was cut short before the worst of the damage could be dealt, and most importantly the air isn't thick with ash and dust. The blue of the sky is clear – no longer seen through a haze – and each breath no longer carries the sickening combination of oxygen and human remains. Okoye looks battle-worn, but she stands as tall as Nebula has always known her to be and the spectre of grief is notably absent from her eyes.
The general surveys the group before her with mild curiosity as they emerge, though she betrays no recollection of the ship itself. All that crosses her face when she glances at Nebula is an unmistakable flicker of suspicion upon regarding her arm, clearly fashioned from Vibranium, but she seems to brush that aside as an impossibility. Her attention is drawn to the more peculiar among their group soon enough – eyes scanning Drax and Mantis and Strange with something that might be weariness – before she finally regards Stark with some degree of familiarity.
A few hours of rest have done Stark a world of good. His hand is still receiving weak protection from the shimmering blue spell and there's an evident limp as he walks, but he's able to support his own weight at least, even as Peter hovers nearby like a protective mother. The cold sweat has passed and there's some colour in his cheeks, battling the transparent sheen he's had since Titan, and the faux smile he gives Okoye could convince almost anyone that he's not falling apart at the seams.
Almost anyone. By this point Nebula can see through him as clearly as though he were transparent, but she doesn't say anything for fear of shattering his mask.
"It's good of you to finally join us, Mr Stark," Okoye greets him with professional courtesy; the final nail in the coffin which confirms that she truly doesn't know him. Doesn't remember. Stark succeeds in giving nothing away - no indication that he has encountered Okoye many times during meetings and training – but Nebula cannot help but notice how weak his answering smile is.
"And I assume the rest of you are the 'Guardians of the Galaxy'?" Okoye continues, choosing to address Quill as though hopeful that he is perhaps the more normal of the bunch. Nebula supposes that depends on one's definition of normal.
"And the Avengers!" Peter interjects eagerly, eliciting a fond if slightly exasperated shake of the head from Stark and a lovely, musical laugh from Okoye.
"Oh, I'm well acquainted with you lot, trust me," she replies with a wicked smirk, and Nebula glances over to Stark to see hope flaring in exhausted eyes. "My Dora Milaje and I will escort you to the palace. Our king has extended an offer of hospitality at Captain Rogers' request and I've been assured you can all be trusted. I would advise against proving him wrong."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Stark promises, much to the general's amusement. Having sparred with Okoye herself in order to train before leaving Earth, Nebula can't help but agree. There's a certain elegance to the way she fights, to how expertly she wields her spear in combat, that even Nebula has caught herself envying. She had a ferocity too, though perhaps that had been borne of grief.
With the niceties out of the way, the Dora Milaje set about escorting them towards the towering city; Okoye taking the lead, while the woman Nebula knows to be Ayo leads a squad at the rear to ensure they don't get any bright ideas and wander off. The rest of the world may not be recovering from Thanos, but Wakanda has still endured a battle and Nebula doubts alien visitors can be trusted even with Captain America vouching for them.
As they near the outskirts of the city, Stark finally accepts Peter's offer of support in a silent confirmation that he's weaker than he's letting on. Not that Nebula can blame him. Her own exhaustion continues to weigh her down even after achieving three hours of uninterrupted rest. Strange lingers close to the pair while Quill hovers nearby, pale-faced with eyes clouded over from dread as he takes in the scattered remains of alien creatures. Mantis and Drax seem to be hanging back, though Nebula can't be bothered checking up on them. Likely Ayo's displeasure will be made clear if either Guardian wanders too far from the pack.
"What happened here?" Quill asks eventually, having broken from his trance and approached Okoye with caution; his eyes falling upon her impressive spear more than once. If she minds his presence, she makes no mention of it, though there's a downturn to her lips as confusion briefly claims her too.
"That's something we're still trying to figure out ourselves," she admits, and Nebula surreptitiously focuses on every word she says in a silent quest for answers. "There was an army at our border, trying to steal something your Avengers call the 'Mind Stone'. We were close to being overwhelmed when they just vanished - literally - into thin air. I still can't explain it myself. One moment I was trying to protect my country from an alien threat, the next they were just... gone. You wouldn't know they'd been here at all if it weren't for the dead they left behind."
"Something similar happened to us," Quill tells her, and Okoye's eyes turn to him with burning curiosity; a silent urge to go on. "We were fighting Thanos – that must have been his army you saw – then all of a sudden there was this weird flash and he was gone."
His eyes dart around the field, taking in every detail before it can become hidden away by fast-approaching skyscrapers, and once again Nebula finds her eyes drawn to Stark's. Their glance achieves little more than a silent confirmation that they're only slightly less in-the-dark than Quill and Okoye.
"I thought he'd won," Quill admits with a whisper, appearing older than Nebula's ever known him to be as guilt rests on his shoulders, in his eyes; weighing down on his soul in a manner she knows only too well. "I thought he'd come here to finish what he started."
"Well, if he is here he's yet to announce himself," Okoye says, though she doesn't seem entirely reassured. It is difficult to bask in victory when the circumstances surrounding it are so uncertain, Nebula imagines. She can certainly relate on that front. "If Bast has any mercy, he never will."
The journey towards the palace passes in relative silence after that. The path is a well-worn one for Nebula, containing quaint alleyways and arresting towers and open squares from her memories, yet so much has changed that she might as well be seeing it all for the first time. The city is hardly at its busiest – many are likely still in the process of returning home after the widespread evacuation efforts – but already the streets are noisier than she has ever seen them. Curious onlookers dart glances at their strange party wherever they go, yet their faces hold none of the grief and pain that once plagued them relentlessly. Instead, everywhere Nebula looks, people are slowly but surely returning to a sense of normality.
As they pass through the busiest sector of the city, Nebula can see a market in full swing. The vibrant colours of traditional clothing and artwork greet them wherever they turn, painting the world in dazzling shades of red and blue and green. The scents of freshly picked fruits and sizzling meat dishes makes her mouth water, and she begins to wonder when she last ate; her ears are filled with traders proclaiming their deals and, as they draw closer to the square, the sounds of traditional drum-beats and chanting, while a pleasant female-voice rises above it all, singing wordlessly as she lets the music guide her.
Nebula has never heard music here before.
"It's beautiful," Mantis says with childlike wonder, and Nebula can't help but agree. It has been so long since she stepped foot on this soil that she's taken aback by how much she's missed it. It is strange to see it like this, so vibrant and loud. So alive.
"Is this what Earth's like now?" Quill asks, making no attempt to hide his awe as his eyes dart in every possible direction, including skyward as the air is filled with ships returning from the safety of the mountains. It's only then that it hits Nebula that this must be the first time Quill has returned home since he was a child; the first glimpse of Earth he's had in decades.
"Don't get too excited," Stark warns him, though not unkindly. He too seems to have been gifted with a renewed appreciation of the city, if the way he's eagerly pointing out all the sights to an equally excited Peter is any indication. "You won't find this in Missouri."
That miraculously draws a laugh from Quill, one that seems to surprise even him. It's the first glimpse Nebula's gotten all day of the man she remembers – the man her sister fell in love with – and as childlike joy continues to overwhelm the grief and panic in his eyes, she starts to believe that he might actually recover from this. That his being brought back from the ashes won't have been in vain, even if Gamora is truly gone.
She banishes all thought of her sister before her mind can dwell on black-painted possibilities. Before her relief at seeing Wakanda and the people within it so alive – at seeing the Guardians and Peter and even Strange once more – can turn into rage at the fact that they are alive when it is likely her sister is not.
Overall it takes close to an hour to reach the palace from where the Benatar made its descent, by which point neither Stark nor Nebula seem to care about hiding their need to sleep for five years. It hasn't escaped her notice that Peter has ended up taking more and more of his mentor's weight throughout the journey. By the time they reach the palace square, he has an arm wrapped tightly around Stark's shoulders and has saved him from stumbling once or twice. Nebula has managed to remain on her feet so far at least, but she can feel a heaviness under her eyes and a screaming ache from every part of her - both organic and mechanical. She's starting to wish her body would start acting like the months they're recovering from didn't happen as surely as the rest of the universe has.
A familiar face is there to greet them once they've cleared the extensive runway bringing them to the palace steps.
If Okoye's prior references hadn't already confirmed that Steve was among the few cursed to remember, the sight of him certainly does. He shaved his beard before the battle on Titan, Nebula remembers, but enough days have passed that the overgrown stubble on his cheeks is almost as scruffy as it'd been when she met him. Old eyes rest upon a face which is slowly starting to catch up to his years, thanks to the now permanent dark circles surrounding them, and he's lost a little of the conviction in his posture even as he stands tall to greet them. He's as exhausted as she is, and Nebula finds herself wondering if she's just as bad at hiding it before deciding she'd rather not know.
At the sight of the few familiar faces among their group, however, Steve's eyes brighten with a spark that Nebula has seen survive untold horrors, and his breath catches in his throat when he locks eyes with Stark.
Neither seem to know what to do for a moment. Of the two of them, Steve's the one to move first; taking a hesitant step forward at the sight of Stark's tired smile before stopping abruptly.
Only for Stark to proclaim "Screw it," just loudly enough for Peter and Nebula to hear as he stumbles over to meet Steve halfway. Any hesitation seems to shatter once they fall into an awkward embrace; their relief at seeing each other alive so palpable, Nebula's skin could burn from being close to it. Steve's hugging Stark so tightly it must hurt, and he closes his eyes for a moment before pulling away with a smile that seems to drop years from his face.
"I was starting to think you hadn't made it," Steve says, only half-joking by the look of it.
Nebula can hardly blame him. There was a moment upon waking on Titan where she had assumed the same. That Stark was dead, along with everyone else; that she was too, or on her way there at least. Those final seconds had been so frantic it had been impossible to know for sure if anyone around her was alive or dead, and the last glimpse she'd gotten of Stark prying the gauntlet from Thanos suggested the latter far more strongly.
"You have such faith in me Rogers," Stark jests, though his expression turns serious quickly enough. A weak smile lingers at the corner of his mouth, surviving in spite of his exhaustion, and any forced lightness is replaced with solemnity when he adds, "It's good to see you too."
Steve smiles, a small broken thing, before finally acknowledging the rest of their gathering. The Dora Milaje have stepped aside having found no reason to distrust their charges, and the others have simply been left to watch the brief reunion with expressions ranging from disinterest on Drax's part, to outright bewilderment on Peter's.
"You must be the Guardians of the Galaxy," Steve says as he focuses on the trio in question, before extending a hand to Quill. The man shakes it as a polite courtesy, even though his confusion hasn't lessened any. "I've heard a lot about you from Rocket."
"Rocket's here?" Quill and Drax ask almost simultaneously, and Nebula finds herself wondering the same. It's possible that Steve's referring to the stories Rocket will tell once he has enough alcohol in him, but his reaction to the outburst implies he's referring to something beyond a mere slip-up.
It is strange, considering how often she's felt the urge to kill Rocket throughout her time with him, but the silent confirmation that he's alive is one that relieves her.
"And Groot," Steve adds with a fond smile, before his gaze finds Nebula and seriousness takes hold. They regard each other with a short nod, a silent confirmation that they remember their times as comrades, before his attention returns to the Guardians. A layer of seriousness remains in his tone however, Nebula notes absently. "I think you should follow me. I can take you to them."
The Guardians offer no complaint to that, and the rest follow on for lack of anything better to do. Strange has been rather quiet throughout the whole affair, though the same curiosity that overtook him when he studied Nebula on Titan is clear to see on his face when he silently watches Steve. For familiarity's sake more than anything else, Nebula finds herself gravitating towards Steve once they reach the vast atrium greeting visitors to the palace. It doesn't take long for her mind to be consumed by how loud everything is now; her eyes wandering over the multitude of people who likely weren't here before.
How many of them had turned to ash by the time she first arrived on Earth? How many wandering the halls, casting incredulous glances at the likes of Mantis and Drax, have been given a second chance at life without realising it? Nebula doesn't know – doubts she even wants to know – though she imagines the answer must be a considerable number. The cacophony of noise feels inappropriate after the weeks of respectful quiet Nebula had witnessed here, and she can't help but hate herself a little for finding it so uncomfortable. This is surely better than the grief-stricken hush had been, but the unfamiliarity of it all still gnaws at her like a dull ache.
She's grateful when a distraction arrives in the form of company as, likely having noticed Nebula edge towards Steve, it doesn't long for Stark to follow suit.
"Uh, kid?" he says in a manner which could be taken as apologetic, as he gently removes himself from Peter's supportive hold and tilts his head towards Quill. "Can you hang back with Flash Gordon and his crew? I need to talk to the adults for a bit."
"I'll be eighteen in six months, Mr Stark," Peter says with mild exasperation, though his shy smile implies he's not entirely serious. A single raised eyebrow from Stark is all it takes to discourage any argument, however, and the boy wisely doesn't protest further. Obediently, he hangs back to join Quill and Strange; an utterance of the word 'movies' seeming to be all it takes for the boy's presence to be accepted by the former.
Stark's eyes linger on Peter a moment longer than necessary – though it's difficult to begrudge him that - before he finally joins Nebula and Steve, and the trio walk side-by-side as they ascend a spiral staircase. They must make a sorry sight, Nebula thinks, as she looks down at her tattered armour and the remaining traces of blood on her hands; looks at Steve's messy hair and beard, and the way Stark ends up needing a strong arm around his waist to keep him upright. If they had more sense they'd get some rest now and leave the bulk of conversation to later, but that would require more patience than any of them have to spare.
"Tell me what you know," Stark asks eventually, voice lowered as though afraid of being heard over the surrounding din.
Steve's jaw clenches, the inevitability of Stark's request likely something he'd hoped to put off. It's possible the answer is 'nothing'. If Nebula were asked the same it's what she'd say. She can say what she remembers happening and what she assumes happened, but the actual knowing is a privilege that hasn't been bestowed upon her.
The silence stretches to the point where it becomes unbearable, though nobody takes it upon themselves to shatter it. They eventually clear the spiral staircase and emerge onto a corridor lined with tall windows, overlooking Wakanda with the sun high above her and the air free from ash. Nebula watches Steve gaze out to the view – one he likely expected never to ever see again - before his attention is drawn to Stark's injured hand cradled against his chest. The protective spell is faltering at last – the blue flickering too often for comfort – and its lessened effects are evident in the way Stark sucks in a pained breath.
"I think you should get that checked out first," Steve tells him plainly, and it's hard to tell if the recommendation is borne of genuine concern or a desperate need to delay the wider conversation that's needed.
"It's protected by magic thanks to a wizard who looks like he's just walked out of Fantasia," Stark replies, impatience dripping from his tone despite his efforts to keep it light. "It'll last another hour. Talk to me, Capsicle."
Steve hesitates for a moment longer before glancing at Nebula, who merely shrugs in lieu of providing backup.
"There's not much I can say," he admits, his voice lowered so only the three of them can hear. "One minute I saw Thor take the gauntlet from your hands, the next there was nothing but green. I woke up around the time Thanos's army disappeared. Into thin air apparently, though I didn't see it."
"Do you know why?" Nebula asks. The question had first occurred to her when Okoye described the army vanishing without trace, almost like those who had fallen to ash months before. It's something she should take as reassurance – that more lives were spared from Thanos' lackeys and her siblings – but it almost seems too easy. Surely there must be strings attached; consequences for escaping fate so easily. But then, she supposes that allowing cataclysmic changes to be passed with relative ease was always part of the gauntlet's function.
"I'm the wrong person to ask," Steve admits with a soft laugh. "Thor's doing, maybe. He might have added it as a caveat when he snapped his fingers."
So, Thor was the one to wield the gauntlet in the end. Perhaps that explains why everything seems to be too easy – too perfect. If anyone can not only control the gauntlet - even for a moment - but also force six infinity stones to bend to their will in order to put as much right as possible, it makes sense that it would be the 1,500-year-old god among them. Keeping a clear head in the frantic heat of battle likely came more naturally to him than any of the mere mortals in their army.
Nebula wonders where he is now. If he is awaiting their arrival with Rocket – the two would surely have found each other in the confusing aftermath if they both lived – or whether wielding the stones was enough to destroy him. Hopefully the former, considering the universe now owes him more than it can possibly comprehend. Even she would balk at the injustice of him not being alive to reap the benefits of his actions.
"How many of us remember?" Stark asks, in a sombre tone which implies that what he really wants to know is how alone they are. How many share their burden; how many will go to sleep at night with the memories of their loved ones falling to ash?
"Almost none," Steve says, and Nebula feels like she's been punched. It's hard to tell if the answer relieves Steve or if it weighs as heavily on his soul as it does on hers; as it likely does on Stark's.
It takes a while for him to elaborate. His eyes close briefly as he lets himself indulge in exhaustion, before he's forced to open them and don the mantle of 'Captain' again.
"Those that died, they don't remember anything as far as I can tell. Thanks to the Time Stone, the final sequence of events leading to Thanos killing them no longer happened, so there's no reason for them to remember anything.
"As for those of us left behind, Thor says it depends on our proximity to the 'snap'. Those within range - about a half-mile radius is his best guess, though it could be even less than that – we kept our memories. We just replaced our old bodies when we were sent back, so everything we remember - everything we went through – that still happened to us. But we're the only ones. Anyone not caught in the crossfire got erased along with the rest of that timeline. Everything just... reset for them, like it did with everyone who died. People like Bruce and Nat – anyone who was on the outskirts of the battle – they don't remember anything. I've tried to jog their memory, but there's nothing after Thanos's army arriving in Wakanda."
Steve stops for a moment, his exhaustion so palpable even Nebula's tempted to force him to get some sleep.
She imagines Thor's hypothesis explains why she woke with the aches and pains of a battle that will technically never happen now. Why Stark still faces losing a hand and has visibly aged despite the Time Stone fixing as much as it could. Why Steve bears the exhaustion of months without rest that will now never come to pass, yet Okoye bears no scars from what happened. Only those caught right at the heart of the second snap will ever know what it's like to lose half the universe, and that's, what? One hundred at most, friend and foe alike, out of trillions?
Steve finally breaks out of his exhausted trance only to regard an already shaken Stark with something that might be sympathy.
"Rhodey doesn't remember either. We called Pepper too, she's on her way, but she doesn't..."
It's a disquieting thought. Nebula had come to know Rhodey better as the Avengers ventured out to space and the close confines of their ships forced people to spend time together. She tended to gravitate towards Stark and Rocket, which meant she also spent a lot of time with Rhodey and Thor, and they naturally partook in several drinking games or card-tricks after stressful days of failed recruitments or attacks by enemy vessels. Rhodey taught her how to play the Terran form of poker while she taught him how to gamble using Sakaaran dice scrounged from Korg's ship, something which had caused Stark a lot of grief as Rhodey grew more skilled.
It is strange to think that that Rhodey no longer exists. In this timeline he will never go on to watch half of his friends die; will never watch a half-dead Stark be dragged out of an alien ship only to have him collapse in his arms; will never watch the world he's fought to protect all his life fall into turmoil. He will never acquire the dark shadows under his eyes or the deep lines that aged his face over the course of mere months. Just as the Pepper who kept Stark sane while his world was falling apart - who saw her husband off one last time with a mix of dread and steel in her eyes - no longer exists to await his return from war.
Nebula supposes their wedding will need to happen all over again now, though she imagines it'll be a far less private affair this time around.
It's not just them. Bruce and Natasha as they are now will never know what it's like to lose most of their friends. Okoye and M'Baku will not experience the loss of their king for many years yet, nor the guilt of losing half their fighters. The Shuri who lost her beloved brother is gone, even as her repairs can be felt in every step Nebula takes. Instead she will be able to hug T'Challa whenever she sees him and tease him relentlessly while continuing work on his suit, comfortable in the knowledge that he will be the one to don it.
Half of the universe no longer knows the exquisite pain of losing the other half.
If the notion is strange to Nebula, it seems to completely throw Stark for a loop. There are whole months of experiences spent with the two people he loves most that only he will remember. Neither Rhodey nor Pepper will ever truly know just how close they came to enduring unspeakable losses and battling through the pain out of necessity. Stark may tell them what happened, or at least Nebula hopes he will if only to relieve some of the weight from his soul, but she doubts it will be the same.
They will help him, though, if he's ever able to explain what he's gone through. There is no doubt in her mind about that.
"Good," Stark says, though his expression is unreadable as his eyes remain fixed to the ground; his jaw clenched tightly in a way that must hurt. "I wouldn't wish those memories on my worst enemy."
Nebula supposes there's truth in that. As much as having Rhodey and Pepper remember everything would probably help, it would be selfish, perhaps, to force them to endure the same memories – the same nightmares – that will never stop plaguing Stark, or her, or Steve.
"Who does know?" Stark asks when he finally lifts his head, and Nebula notes the unshed tears burning in his eyes.
"Thor, obviously," Steve replies, smiling weakly when he gets an exasperated glare from Stark in response. "He returned earlier with Rocket and Groot in tow, same as last time. Groot obviously doesn't remember, but Rocket does. He'll want to see you, Nebula."
"I doubt it," she mutters, casting a glance back at the Guardians who seem to be following closely while muttering conspiratorially amongst themselves. By this point Rocket will surely be sick of the sight of her, whereas he's yearned to have his family back since that first awful moment of learning they were gone. He would have sacrificed himself multiple times throughout the war if it meant there was a slim chance he could see them again.
If Steve hears her he doesn't mention it, though perhaps he's wisely assumed that arguing with her when she's this tired and on-edge would not be recommended.
"Wong knows. He teleported here as soon as he woke up back in New York. We're awaiting contact from Val and Korg, but it's a safe bet they remember too," he continues, and Nebula nods as she remembers Valkyrie and Steve helping to remove the gauntlet before a harsh blast from the power stone had thrown them aside - Thanos's last act of defiance before her sword breached his chest. "Carol probably knows as well, though I'm still trying to figure out how to contact her. That's it from our lot, as far as I know."
That's not even double-figures. True, there will likely be a scattered few across the universe who volunteered to join them later on – those who happened to be within range once the Time Stone was forced to act – but there's no way of knowing who. The only ones who matter are Thor, Danvers, Steve, Wong, Valkyrie, Korg, Rocket, and Stark. And Nebula, forced among them by the cruel hands of fate. It's almost enough to make her descend into hysterics, but a sudden thought stops her before she can unleash deranged laughter; a thought that has ice slipping into her frame and halts her breaths before they can escape her lungs.
"What about Thanos?" she utters, so lowly she's surprised anyone hears her. It's like she's afraid a spell will be broken if she speaks her father's name; as though just thinking about him will undo her final act against him. A sudden need for proof overwhelms her; a craving to see his blood on her hands and blade, or at the very least a body. The fact that he hasn't emerged from the shadows in the last two days is almost reassuring, but she can't stand the idea that he may simply have vanished into thin air as Quill had suggested. It would be poetic – him coming to the same fate he sentenced trillions to - but if ash is all that's left of him then she will never know if he is truly dead, and she'll never be able to live with that.
Nebula has fought with the aim of destroying him for far too long. She cannot waste the rest of her life withering away from uncertainty over whether or not she succeeded.
"Caught in the crossfire," Steve replies, though in her turmoil Nebula almost doesn't hear him. "If he was dead when Thor snapped his fingers he likely stayed that way."
"Then why did he vanish?" she asks, and it strikes her that she sounds like a petulant child demanding answers no-one can give her, but she needs to know. "Why wasn't his body sent back with us?"
"Maybe there are different rules for the dead," Steve suggests, and Nebula's simultaneously grateful for the empathy in his voice while also wanting to tear it away from him. She closes her eyes, takes a breath, and tries to remind herself that Steve knows as little as she does; that demanding answers from him is unfair. "Maybe Thor made him disappear with his army. This whole thing is unprecedented – none of us really know what's happening."
"And it's possible he was sent back," Stark interjects, and Nebula almost jumps at the sound of his voice. Steve's explanations seemed to shock him into uncharacteristic silence, though there's none of that to be found in his attempt at reassurance. It hits her then that he's concerned on her behalf – offering her, of all people, comfort - and it makes her bite her tongue in shame. "Our original fight with him covered a wide area. He could have been buried under rubble a mile away and we'd never have noticed."
"Thor's on his way to Titan as we speak," Steve assures her, and it hits her then that her fear must be hopelessly transparent. "You're not the only one who needs proof. But it shouldn't be necessary. We all watched him die."
Did they? Had he even been dead when Thor snapped his fingers or was he hanging on by a thread, spiting them at a crucial moment all over again? Then again, she supposes if he'd been alive at the end he would simply have been sent back to the past like everyone else and she'd have faced him again on Titan's wastes. Sans gauntlet, which may have given their meagre numbers a fighting chance, but she thinks the idea of having to kill him again would be too draining to bear.
It would be better than this uncertainty though.
They slip into a heavy silence for the remainder of their journey through the palace. A hush has descended over the halls, just as one had on her first night here, though this time Nebula knows it's entirely in her head. She needs to sleep, to think. She needs to force herself to accept everything that's happened and how utterly unfair it is that most of the universe gets to carry on with life as though Thanos' slaughter didn't happen; as though it wasn't plunged into loss and grief and darkness all those months ago. Not that she would wish that upon anyone, not again, but she wishes she hadn't emerged from this situation feeling so... isolated.
Lonely.
She has never minded being alone. It was her natural state of existence for so long, once she learned she could trust no-one and Thanos's efforts to poison her love for her sister began to take hold. It has been more difficult to adapt to life on crowded spaceships these last few weeks than it ever was to survive alone on backwater planets, yet the idea of this all-encompassing loneliness - the knowledge that there are very few alive who know what she's suffered – is immobilising to the point where it feels like she can't breathe.
Apparently she's not the only one.
"So, we're the only ones who'll ever know what happened," Stark states, his eyes hazy and fixed on a random spot on the floor as though the truth of his words is only just sinking in. As though he's just realised that he's going to have to reunite with Rhodey and Pepper and most of his team-mates having endured months of grief in the space of what, to them, will have been a matter of seconds.
"Looks like it," Steve says, his voice carrying the gravity they're all feeling, and for a moment he looks very old yet also impossibly young. "That future doesn't happen now. Thor fixed everything, or as much as he could anyway."
"By snapping his fingers," Nebula mutters blankly.
Steve huffs a laugh, before hanging his head and uttering a quiet, "Yeah."
"But we remember it."
"I know," Steve says, making no attempt to hide his weariness even when he flashes her a weak, all-too-brief smile. "I guess we'll just have to figure out how to live with that."
How? Nebula wants to ask, but the question gets caught on her tongue when she realises there's likely no-one alive who can answer her.
The din slowly returns to her consciousness to the point where the palace feels too loud; much louder than she's ever known it. Steve casts a glance back to the rest of their party, ensuring they're still close behind, before leading them up one last flight of stairs, and only then does Nebula realise he's directing them towards the throne room. She hasn't stepped foot there since the meeting which finally forced everyone to butt heads and share their ideas, before finally agreeing that working together would be the best course of action. The relieved smile on Stark's face then had been so blinding you could probably have seen it from Titan, which acts as a sharp contrast to the exhaustion that claims him now; his eyes unfocused as he walks and a grey tinge to his skin implying that neither the painkillers nor Strange's spell are offering much benefit anymore.
If Nebula had the energy, she'd take him off Steve's hands and drag him towards the hospital wing herself, but she doubts Stark would forgive her if she forced him to wait even longer to reunite with his loved ones.
It seems to take an age to reach the Vibranium-lined doorway leading to a packed throne room, though it can't have been more than twenty minutes since they met Steve on the steps. Nebula barely has time to glance inside before Steve draws to a halt, casting a hesitant glance in her direction before turning to the rest of their group.
"Guardians," he starts, addressing Quill above all, and Nebula watches suspicion claim the man once more. Not that he can be blamed, considering he's just been excluded from a secret conversation that Nebula of all people was privy to. It's possible she'll need to explain everything that happened to Quill in painstaking detail if only to avoid spending the rest of her life fending off his questions. "When Thor returned with your team-mates, there was someone else with him, someone asking after you. She -"
Nebula doesn't need to hear more and neither, it seems, does Quill. All those concerned glances thrown her way by Steve suddenly make sense and she inwardly curses him for his silence as she storms into the throne room, eyes scanning allies both recognisable and not before eventually landing on Rocket.
The creature doesn't even notice their arrival; too caught up in berating Groot for some annoyance or other even as sheer relief burns in his eyes like fire. Beyond feeling vaguely glad that he's in one piece, however, he's not the one to claim Nebula's attention. Her eyes are instead drawn to the woman by his side, whose head is bowed while dark hair conceals her face from view. She's so motionless, so quiet, that for one horrific instant it seems as though she's still dead, and any urgency falters as fear claws at Nebula's chest.
"Gamora?"
The name escapes Quill on a broken whisper, as though he's just been punched in the chest, and his face betrays his fresh grief even as a broken smile threatens to cross it. It falters only when Gamora glances up; haunted eyes widening as she spots him along with Nebula and the remainder of the Guardians trailing behind. As though a spell has broken, Quill launches himself at her while she rises to her feet to meet him, and when he takes her into his arms it's with such force that Nebula's surprised they don't fall over.
"I thought-," Quill starts, forcing himself to break the hug if only to study every inch of Gamora's face; a disbelieving smile overwhelming him even as tears fall from his eyes. "Thanos, he said... Mantis felt-"
Words fail him and his head falls to Gamora's shoulder the instant she takes control, holding him close and shutting her eyes to conceal unshed tears of her own. There's a broken "You should have turned right," from Quill that makes Gamora flinch, but she recovers quickly and adorns a small smile that only brightens further when he looks at her once more.
"I'm here," she assures him as she glances over to the other members of their small group. Her gaze seems to linger on Nebula most of all, before her eyes are torn back to Quill. "I'll explain everything later, I promise."
That only succeeds in getting Quill to release an exasperated laugh, though any flicker of annoyance at her words doesn't last. "I think I'm going to spend the rest of my life hearing that."
Nebula, for her part, watches the whole affair as through frozen, her feet nailed to the glass floor and her breaths refusing to escape her lungs. For a moment it feels like the slightest movement will shatter the illusion. That the world will fade in a flicker of red and she'll find that this whole thing has been the Reality Stone's doing, and she can't breathe out of terror that she'll watch all these people - watch her sister - fade to nothing. Watch her father snatch away her last chance of recovery, maybe even happiness, with a cruel smirk as he mocks her for letting herself hope; for letting something as foolish as 'love' claim her, if only for one person.
A gentle hand on her shoulder elicits an involuntary flinch that momentarily prepares her for a fight, though it also serves to bring her back to reality. To watch as the world doesn't fade; as Gamora remains solid and real barely feet away, comforting a man who also can't believe she's there in front of him. Nebula turns to find Steve standing beside her, and though part of her wants to rage at him for daring to touch her, she finds the contact reassuring. An anchor tying her down to the present when her own mind is doing a poor job of it.
"How-" she starts, before faltering when the word emerges on a mere whisper. If Steve sees any less of her for that momentary weakness, he gives no indication of it. Then again, she knows him well enough by now to know he wouldn't.
"Thor," he tells her, and she supposes that much was obvious. "He asked the Soul Stone to release her, and by the time he woke up she was standing right beside him. Rocket actually hugged her by all accounts, though don't tell him I said that."
Given Rocket's usual resistance to any form of physical contact, Nebula struggles to imagine that. Though, at the same time, she supposes there's no other way he could react. Likely Groot received similar treatment when Rocket saw him again, considering the tree was the closest thing he had to a son.
Is the closest thing. Present tense. She'll need to get used to using that again.
She isn't given time to dwell on that further, as Gamora breaks away from Quill's embrace only to immediately throw her arms around Nebula instead. The action is so quick that Nebula's immediate reaction is to tense-up; her back ramrod straight and arms stuck by her sides as they had been when Gamora initiated a similar hug on the Eclector, a lifetime ago now. She stays like that for what feels like hours before the spell breaks, before her arms slowly rise to hold Gamora close and she lets herself breathe. Lets herself focus on the warm, living body in her arms; the weight of Gamora's head against her shoulder and the way soft hair tickles her cheek.
Part of her still expects everything to fade away. To blink, only to find that her hands are holding nothing but ash; for her to turn around on a desolate wasteland and face her father's wrath, his cruel voice echoing in her ears as he says, "Did you really think I could let you be happy?"
Nebula closes her eyes. Breathes, though it takes more effort than it should. Focuses on the way Gamora clings to her, as though she too is afraid of everything crumbling to ash.
"Do you remember?" Gamora whispers in Nebula's ear, so softly she almost misses it.
When she responds with a single nod, Gamora only hugs her more tightly and utters a soft "I'm sorry" which suggests Nebula isn't as alone as she'd thought. Whether that knowledge comforts her or not, she cannot say.
"You d'asted idiots."
Rocket's outburst is what finally breaks Nebula free from Gamora's hold, and her sister shakes her head with a soft laugh before looking down at the creature who has finally decided to join them. The fury in Rocket's eyes is disarming even to Nebula, who's endured the sight of it often enough of late, and she watches as he stalks towards Quill with such intensity one might suspect he was ready to kill the man all over again. Sure enough, as soon as he reaches his captain's side he lashes out at any part of his body he can reach with clenched fists.
"Never do that again! You hear me? Don't you dare-"
"Hey, hey!" Quill retaliates, backing away from Rocket before holding his arms out to keep his sudden attacker at bay. Not that Rocket would follow; even Nebula can see that his punches are weak, half-hearted, and his all-too-recent grief is betrayed by the tears gathering in his eyes. Quill must notice, for any annoyance bleeds into concern in a heartbeat. "Do what?"
It's the wrong thing to say, though that's hardly Quill's fault. A surprising degree of intensity explodes from Rocket when he responds with a yell of, "Do what?!"
"I'm serious!" Quill insists, hands still raised as though in surrender. He's not the only one confused; Drax is staring down at Rocket as though he's grown another head while Mantis has adopted a strangely bemused expression ever since she laid eyes on Gamora. Not for the first time, Nebula wonders how much the girl has been able to piece together. "No-one will tell us what's going on."
Rocket's eyes dart to Nebula at that moment, taking in her blue Vibranium arm and the absence of silver metal on her face, and he must recognise that she is in a similar position to him. It's enough for him to trust her when she shakes her head, confirming Quill's words; his inability to comprehend the overwhelming loss Rocket has endured for so long.
As though a fire has been extinguished from within, all fight leaves Rocket in a breath and his shoulders slump downward, eyes dropping to the floor, and Nebula thinks the tears he's tried so long to hold back must now fall down his cheeks.
"Just..." his voice is uncharacteristically quiet, defeated, and he glances up at his captain with a weak smile that only barely travels to his eyes; a tiny spark of relief finally breaking through his pain. "Don't leave. Not again. I can't do this again."
Even if he cannot understand the context, the gravity of what Rocket's saying must hit Quill as surely as it does Nebula, and she watches as comprehension dawns in his eyes. As though he's finally starting to grasp that there's something far greater at play here and that the separation Rocket is referring to stretches much further than the day they'd been apart before arriving on Titan.
"Okay," Quill says, giving Rocket a weak smile that reveals his sincerity even in the midst of his confusion. "Okay, we promise."
It seems to be enough. Furiously wiping a tear from his cheek, Rocket utters "Come here then, asshole," in a voice finally recognisable as his own, before forcing Quill into an awkward hug that has them both cackling like maniacs. Nebula steps back from the fray before she can watch Drax and Mantis endure the same torture. She doubts Rocket would try anything on her out of fear of losing his head, but then, relief tends to do strange things to people so she wouldn't put it past him.
Besides, it's been easy to forget she's in a room full of people, and she can't help but scan their faces out of curiosity; eyes falling on allies and unknowns alike.
With some relief, she sees that Stark is finally allowing himself to be dragged away by a fresh-faced Rhodey and Peter. The boy seems rather starstruck - wide eyes fixing intensely on every face he sees - though he's not quite excited enough to let his mentor's injury go unchecked. Nebula watches the pair guide Stark away from Strange - who himself has located Wong in the crowd and finally seems to be in company that suits him - before focusing her attention on the rest of the gathering.
Steve must have left the Guardians to their reunions without her noticing. It doesn't take long to track him down, however, as she spots him sitting on the sidelines; content to simply listen to the playful discussion ensuing between the two men at his side. One is a dark-skinned man with the humble beginnings of a beard on his cheeks, while the other boasts a metal arm not dissimilar to her own, and it hits Nebula far too late that she's never met them before.
She's looking at Steve's ghosts.
The room is full of ghosts, come to mention it. From the resurrected Guardians and Gamora, to Strange, to Steve's friends whose deaths have sat heavily on his heart for so long. Resting by the windows, there's a young girl with hair as fiery as Pepper's resting her head on the shoulder of an android with red skin, and Nebula's lack of familiarity with either of them can only mean one thing. Shuri, M'Baku and Okoye are deep in conversation with a man dressed head-to-toe in regal purple; a man who can only be Shuri's beloved brother, T'Challa, who Nebula has come to know through the girl's stories.
Shuri doesn't know what it's like to lose him anymore. Thor spared her that pain with the snap of a finger, and Nebula can't help but envy her a little.
It is a strange experience, to be present in a room full of people who only recently were nothing but ashes. Very few of them even know they're not supposed to be alive.
Nebula finds herself expecting them all to vanish before her eyes once more. For them to disintegrate to ash in the blink of an eye and for the screams of those left behind to deafen her. For Thanos to banish this reality with a mere thought in a final act of defiance against her.
She closes her eyes tightly as the expectation builds; tunes out the noise and tries with all her might to prepare for the inevitability of having everything vanish in the space of a heartbeat.
Nothing happens.
When she opens her eyes and blinks against the afternoon sun, she finds that Shuri still has her brother by her side. Steve is still smiling fondly while his friends bicker good-naturedly amongst themselves. Stark likely still has Peter and Rhodey to hold him upright, though she can no longer see him. Rocket still has his family.
And Gamora doesn't fade away.
A/N - Thank you for reading! I still have a little bit of work to do on the epilogue, but it shouldn't be too long until this story is complete.
My weak justification for Thor being able to wield the Soul Stone without making a trade (something that only occured to me midway through writing...) is that when it comes to knowing the weight of 'losing what you love' and sacrifice, there's probably little else for him to learn. He's lost his family, his best friend, and half of the very people he sacrificed his home to protect. I imagine the Soul Stone would be able to identify him as someone who inherently knows its value far more than Thanos ever could. That explanation probably falters under the slightest bit of scrutiny when put up against the movie's rules, but it was enough for me to get over a mild panic and keep writing :P
