A/N - Sooo my intentions for this to be a simple, short epilogue quickly fell apart to the point where this is probably the longest chapter of the bunch. Again, my chapter planning is terrible :P As a result this is more of a conventional final chapter than a proper epilogue, but I hope you enjoy it and thank you all for sticking with me through to the end!


The air is thick with humidity as Nebula rests upon the now deserted field, the grasses damp and muddy beneath her fingers following the recent showers. Not that she minds. The brief rainfall had provided a pleasant break from the persistent heat – the droplets cool on her synthetic skin – and as she looks across the field she can pretend that all evidence of bloodshed has been washed away; the last remnants of her father's actions banished from the earth.

She turns her head to the sky as a familiar hum breaks through the quiet, watching as a glinting speck slowly descends to earth. The forcefield sparks a dazzling blue as the Benatar breaches it, appearing no larger than an insect from where she sits, and she listens as the faint hum morphs into the roar of engines announcing the Guardians return from their trip.

It's been a week since she returned to Wakanda; a week since the universe was restored to some semblance of normality without most of its occupants noticing. Quill had only been able to sit still for a day before the prospect of visiting home became too much to bear, and he'd set off with Gamora, Groot and Rocket in tow for a brief trip to America, while Nebula, Drax and Mantis elected to stay behind and await their return. She imagines Rocket would have done the same – has heard enough of his rants about this 'dumb planet' to know he has little desire to see more of it – but once Groot expressed a vague interest in going with Quill there was no doubt that Rocket would stay with him. Drax and Mantis seemed perfectly content to stay in Wakanda in the meantime, and Nebula had no great desire to see more than the small corner of Earth she'd grown accustomed to, so she'd been left behind on 'babysitting duty', as Rocket had called it.

That was a duty she quickly neglected.

After weeks of fighting and killing had come to an abrupt end, all she'd wanted was some time on her own. To claim space to rest and think and recover, if such a thing were possible. She's grown fonder of Drax and Mantis over the years than she ever expected to, but there was still no doubt in her mind that spending significant time with them would drive her mad, so she'd quickly left them to enjoy the colourful markets in the hope that they wouldn't cause too much trouble. Besides, seeing as the city is far more energetic now than she has ever known it to be, tearing herself away had ultimately been in her best interest.

The stares she receives when passing through quaint villages are bad enough. She doesn't need a thousand eyes following her wherever she goes.

King T'Challa had been thoughtful enough to set her up on a nearby farm while the ship she called home flew halfway around the world. Out there, she was blissfully alone. The only sounds consisted of insects chirping in the grass and goats crying in the distance, and she could emerge from her hut every morning to watch the sun rise over a shimmering lake. Once, the peace of the Wakandan countryside had seemed oppressive, as though the surrounding nature should have been crying out its grief along with the rest of the world. It is strange how easily she can enjoy it now. The peace seems earned, providing much-needed quiet after a ferocious storm, and she has come to appreciate such simplicities as the sun on her face and tall grasses brushing against her fingers.

It had taken a day or two for her mechanics to heal completely following the battle; time in which she'd wrestled with the idea of seeing Shuri again. The temptation had been surprisingly powerful, as Nebula slowly realised that she missed the girl's company, but her improving function had been enough to assure her that such a visit wasn't needed. That was likely for the best. There was no way on earth Shuri wouldn't recognise the handiwork in Nebula's body as her own, and that would only open a can of worms leading to a flurry of explanations Nebula doubted the girl wanted to hear. If no-one has told her already that an alternate version of her exists - one who lost her brother and had to work tirelessly in the aftermath to fix a broken country – then there's certainly no reason for Nebula to break that news.

Besides, her cybernetics healed before she even needed to face that decision. The alternate Shuri's expertise continues to be of benefit to Nebula even now, and knowing there is no way to repay her for that still sits heavily on her soul.

Running has become a pastime of late. It has been so long since she ran without the intention of hacking someone to pieces, nor out of a need to run from some unseen threat, that doing so for enjoyment alone was initially disconcerting. In the beginning her head had constantly spun backwards, seeking out threats that were no longer able to pursue her, and it had taken a couple of days to simply learn to enjoy the wind against her face; the lightness of her body as she sped across vast plains, along the border past the protective tribe with their fleet of rhinos, and up the same mountain paths she had scaled on what she assumed would be her final night here.

Emerging onto that familiar clearing overlooking the valley – this time with the sun at its peak – had made her freeze as memories consumed her. She almost expected to hear the clunk of Stark's armour falling to earth, and once again she'd found her legs dangling precariously from the edge as she rested in the same spot where she'd decided to stay a little longer and consider Stark's ideas.

It is a strange memory. Those ideas had seemed so outlandish then – her own contributions barely helping matters – and yet the plan had only altered slightly over the following months.

And they won.

They'd had to boost their numbers, certainly, and it had taken weeks to feel even remotely prepared to leave Earth, yet somehow she'd still ended up back here. She isn't some broken body sprawled across the wastes of Titan. She hasn't had to watch Rocket and Stark and Steve die before her eyes, as she imagined she would so many times before. Instead, she's been able to gaze over a familiar valley with dense forests and a river flowing beneath her feet, and for once she was able to listen to birdsong and without feeling like the world around her should be crumbling to ruin.

This is what Earth is like when Thanos is unable to harm it. Though she still yearns for the stars whenever the night sky reveals them to her, it's become more difficult than it should to suppress the urge to stay a little longer.

Not that she has much choice in the matter. As the Benatar finally makes contact with solid ground - after circling the city for a lap or two in appreciation of the view – there's no question that Nebula will be leaving on it within the hour. Such was Rocket's harsh warning once their signal was picked up and they were granted permission to return. The joy in the creature's voice at the prospect of leaving Earth was palpable even through the speakers. Drax and Mantis, for all that they seem to have enjoyed their time in the city, are already halfway across the field to reunite with their team-mates, though Nebula can't quite bring herself to rise from the grass. It is too comfortable here, in this quiet corner of the world, and the Benatar felt crowded enough with just her and Rocket onboard. The prospect of an entire trip shared with several rowdy Guardians is something she's keen to put off.

They'll make their displeasure known once it becomes clear she's keeping them waiting, that much is certain. Until that happens, she intends to enjoy these moments of peace while she still can.

It should probably annoy her when, not fifteen minutes later, she hears soft footsteps moving in her direction. The interruption certainly isn't an anticipated one, though given that the footfalls only grow louder it seems it's not one she'll be able to escape. When she turns to look at her sudden visitor, however, any hint of irritation fades before it can fully consume her.

"Are you sure you don't have a tracker on me?" Nebula asks, though any attempt at sounding stern comes up empty, and she can't quite contain a smirk when Stark adopts an expression of mock-offence in response to her accusation.

He looks good, considering... well, everything. Still battle-worn with lack of sleep clinging to his eyes, but he's acquired a tan that banishes all memory of the greyness Titan bestowed upon him, and the wonder of Wakandan medical technology has returned him to his feet quicker than she'd expected. There's no hint of the Iron Man suit, though the glow of the arc reactor shines through his hoodie clearly enough, and his tracksuit combined with the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead is enough to suggest he's found as much solace in running as she has.

Stark doesn't answer her question for a while, choosing instead to wipe sweat from his face while he sits by her side, seeming to care little for mud or grass-stains. His left hand, Nebula notices, remains stuck firmly in his pocket, and curiosity starts to build before he distracts her with a sheepish grin.

"Trust me, I'm not brave enough to spy on you," he assures her, and something that might be pride burns in her chest. "I heard your ship was on its way. Figured I might as well see you off before you escape. Also-"

With morbid fascination, Nebula watches as he finally unleashes his left hand; watches the Vibranium glint in the afternoon sun as Stark experimentally flexes his fingers and clenches his fist. There's still a certain clumsiness to the way it moves, and the plain silver implies this is merely a prototype for him to test while Shuri makes her improvements, but Nebula can't take her eyes off it. When she finally does glance back at Stark's face, the expression she finds is one she can't quite interpret, even with his efforts to keep his tone light.

"We're practically twins now," he says with a smile she can tell is forced, and she looks down to see the unmistakable sheen of her own Vibranium limb; delicate blue softly gleaming under the light of the sun.

"I think you'll need more than that before we can be considered even, Stark," she deadpans, and his smile in response to that is genuine at least. One of her own tugs traitorously at her lips, but she forces it away when Stark brings his hands to his lap, cradling metal in his remaining flesh-and-blood hand with detached curiosity.

"Yeah, well," Stark says with a shrug, tearing his eyes away to regard her with a weak smile. "The arc reactor, a metal hand... I'm slowly catching up."

To that, Nebula doesn't bother holding back her smile, though she hangs her head to hide it as much as she can. It is a strange competition to have - comparing the number of body parts they've either had replaced or modified - and she hopes for his sake that it doesn't go much further than it already has. At least he was able to spare himself from the arc reactor's continued torture, while her own chronic pain has been reduced to little more than a gnawing ache thanks to Shuri's deft hands. Thanos can't harm either of them anymore - can't tear another part of her away and put metal in its place. The fact that she can smile at Stark's jokes about their shared experiences brings a vague hope that, with time, maybe she'll be able to ignore the damage her father has caused.

That might take a while longer for Stark though. As silence washes over them once again - a bird chirruping in the distance providing the only distraction - Nebula watches as he assesses the alien appendage as though he's merely admiring an intricate piece of machinery, rather than something that's now a part of him. His right hand traces the neat connection at the wrist, brushing over a pink scar and gliding onto Vibranium as though the sensation will become normal if he does it often enough.

It's not as simple as that. Nebula knows that only too well; understands the unique pain of having metal put in the place of flesh more than most.

It's not the physical pain so much that was the problem. Nebula was no stranger to that by the time she lost her arm, and she knows Stark is familiar enough with pain himself. What had hurt most was the long process of relearning how to use a part of her body that no longer acted the way it should. No matter how seamlessly her metal arm had moved in the beginning, everything else from the replicated sensations to the vast difference in power had been unbearably new. Necessity forced her to get used to it quickly, but that never stopped her from hating it nor did it make her miss her old arm any less.

"Shuri says she can add a synthetic skin over it before I go," Stark says eventually, shoving the hand back in his pocket as though sick of the sight of it. "Might even be able to add tactile sensation. Make it feel almost normal."

"I would have thought you could do that yourself," Nebula says, gesturing towards the arc reactor on his chest. He's no amateur when it comes to technology; Rhodey had told her once that Stark created the very first arc reactor from scrap metal in a cave. If Nebula had that technical know-how she'd never let anyone else lay hands on her body, no matter how skilled they were. Then again, they both know well enough that Shuri's abilities are unparalleled.

Every breath Nebula takes without pain is a testament to that.

"I could," Stark admits with a smile, pride glowing in his eyes for a brief moment before he simply gives a weak shrug. "But why do that when Shuri's the best?"

Nebula merely gives him a shrug of her own in silent agreement. The fact that she can look at her own face in the mirror and no longer spot the difference between synthetic skin and what remains of her own is enough to suggest that whatever Shuri comes up with should make the new skin appear almost seamless. Whether it'll ever feel normal remains to be seen, though Nebula's adapted to her own alterations with far more ease than she ever adapted to Thanos's 'improvements'.

"It won't be perfect," Stark admits, though that doesn't seem to bother him all that much. "But she thinks she can make it look human at least. I might even be able to look at it without being reminded of everything. Although-"

He peels the fabric of his hoodie up to reveal an angry white scar on his left side, resting just beneath his ribs. The pale line is surrounded by a faint pink from Stark's attempts at cautery, not that that had done any favours with the internal bleeding. Nebula imagines she'll find something similar if she checks his back - vaguely remembers the blade going through and through - and she feels a sickening dread rise in her chest before forcing it down. That timeline was erased, yet Stark's stuck with irrefutable proof that it existed at one point; that Thanos stabbed him with his own blade and that Nebula was only able to bring him home at the last minute.

"It's not like I can ignore this," he admits with a sigh, fingers tracing the scar tissue for a moment longer before he pushes the fabric back down and conceals it from view. "We've traveled from a future which doesn't exist anymore. I guess this is what happens when I start craving the simple life."

Nebula simply watches as Stark runs a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the ground before him as he loses himself in contemplation she isn't privy to. As though an invisible rope is jerking her attention away, she finds her eyes drawn to the Benatar and considers her own existence out among the stars; constantly starting over and fighting to avoid detection or death or both. Simplicity has never been an option for her. Any prospect of the quiet life her parents and village enjoyed was eradicated when Thanos's ships descended from the skies, and she was picked out from the crowd after biting one of the guards who pulled her away from her mother.

She'd been six years old when any hope of a future had been torn away from her. Any plans for a simple existence had been crushed underfoot along with the corpses of half her species.

"I wouldn't know anything about that," she says softly, part of her wondering if she truly intends Stark to hear. Even now, simplicity is likely something that will escape her. Despite the horrors recent months have wrought, at the very least there'd been something to work towards; a singular purpose to fight for. Now, she has no idea where she stands. No idea where she'll go once the Benatar takes her far from Earth.

She can feel Stark's eyes on her before even turning to look at him, and she wonders how much she's betraying through her expression alone. Hiding her emotions is something she used to be better at, but her skills have been faltering of late if the soft compassion in Stark's eyes is any indication.

"No, I guess you wouldn't," he says, and his eyes drop once again before drifting across the field, towards the M-ship sparkling beneath the sun. The hatch is open in a silent invitation, and through distant windows Nebula thinks she can see Quill and Drax doing final checks in the flight-deck; the occasional shadow of activity assuring her that the ship is no longer the empty shell it had once been.

"So, this is you leaving?" Stark asks with something unreadable in his tone, though Nebula has no desire to dwell on what it is.

"I guess so," she murmurs, wondering if she even has a choice. Despite Rocket's threats of leaving her behind she doubts Gamora would allow it, considering there's not much in the way of alternate options for her leaving Earth.

"Do you think you'll ever come back?"

Nebula finds her eyes drawn to him again, though to her annoyance his expression is still guarded, unreadable. Perhaps it would be easier to answer him if he expressed any longing for her and the Guardians to visit Earth again, or even an indication that he'll be delighted to see the back of them. They're hardly helpful in letting him pursue the 'simple life' after all. That said, when it becomes clear that she's waited a little too long to answer, the smile that crosses his face is uncharacteristically shy rather than a bitter smirk.

For one brief moment she imagines coming back to enjoy the lively markets and spend time in Shuri's lab and travel up to the mountains, until darker memories come crawling back of a country gripped by mourning and terror and pain; of mountains whose sense of peace only served to insult her, and a palace full of people rendered stony-faced in their grief. Those memories are still real to her, even if they don't seem to be to the rest of the country, and she spent far more time here crumbling under the weight of her own guilt than she's spent enjoying her second chance.

"Probably not," she admits finally, and she's relieved that Stark doesn't seem inclined to argue. Perhaps he's even grateful. They've fought and killed at each other's side for a long time now, but they were forced together by a mass genocide where they both held their fair share of guilt. Perhaps the prospect of never seeing her again is a sign that he'll be able to start moving on and healing.

It is strange that she's not sure how she feels about never seeing him again though.

"I'm heading home in a couple of days with Rhodey and Pepper," he says when the silence threatens to descend into awkwardness, and the mention of his family at least brings a smile to his face. As beautiful as Wakanda is, it isn't home for him any more than it is for her, and the prospect of heading back to normality seems to make him a little lighter. "Peter too, though dragging him away from that lab's gonna be like stealing candy from a baby."

The smile only widens at the mention of the boy, though there's a hint of strain to it. That's the problem with remembering, Nebula thinks. Stark has Peter back – the boy is alive and free to enjoy his time in this unfamiliar country with a wonder both she and Stark outgrew years ago – but for the rest of his life, Stark will never be able to fall asleep without hearing the words 'I don't wanna go' or recalling the sensation of blood and ash on his hands.

"Does he know anything?" she asks, for as undeniably young as Peter is, he has never struck her as ignorant. His eyes even reminded her of Shuri's at one point, as his fierce intuition lingered on her as though intending to burn, and the suspicion that crept over him upon their return to Earth had been clear as day.

"Not yet," Stark admits, though the notion of having to explain himself is one that makes him grimace. "I'll have to tell him though. He won't say it to my face, but I know I scared the shit out of him on Titan. Figure I owe him an explanation for that."

Nebula can't blame him for his reluctance. Watching Rocket try to explain everything to Quill and the others had been painful enough to watch and had probably only resulted in yet more confusion rather than a remedy for it. Quill, for his part, seemed to grasp the essentials enough that he spent the rest of the day in a grim daze, while the reality of how close he came to dying slowly dawned on him.

"I'll get him home first," Stark vows, determination gripping him for a moment. Nebula imagines he's been waiting months to say those words. "I'll need to be quick about it too. His aunt'll have plenty to say to me as it is without me keeping her waiting even longer."

The promise of the woman's justified anger doesn't seem as off-putting to Stark as his tone would suggest, though Nebula supposes anything will be better than the last conversation he shared with her.

At least this time she'll get to see her nephew again; will get to hold him in her arms as her worry slowly drains away.

"Thor will be heading off soon," Stark continues, poking at an overgrown weed with his remaining fingers. The mention of the god takes Nebula aback for a moment. He must have returned from Titan without her knowledge, though that's hardly surprising considering how deliberate her efforts to avoid the city have been of late. "He finally made contact with Val so it won't be long before she arrives. T'Challa's thinking of granting the Asgardians asylum here, for lack of a better option, but until then Thor's got six Infinity Stones to hide or destroy."

"Only hiding them seems reckless," Nebula mutters, an unspoken warning lurking on the tip of her tongue. Hiding them has failed before. Not even pocket dimensions and heavily guarded vaults and planets known only to a select few were able to stop Thanos from finding them. If there is anyone else even remotely like him in the universe - either now or in the far future - then simply hiding the stones will not be enough to discourage them, and the Avengers' recent victory may end up being nothing more than a quick fix.

The Infinity Stones are difficult to destroy, but not impossible, and the world will keep on turning without them. That guarantee will cease to exist even if just one survives.

"That's what I said," Stark agrees, and there's a grim layer to his tone suggesting that the stones would already be nothing more than dust if he had his way. "But they did save our asses in the end. Strange thinks there might be some benefit to keeping the Time Stone at least. Though he would, come to think of it."

Nebula neglects to tell him that the Infinity Stones only saved the universe after being used to destroy half of it. She imagines that very thought has crossed his mind often enough. The advantages of keeping them around will never truly justify the risk of the damage they can cause, and she's spent her entire life hearing Thanos detail plans to commit unspeakable atrocities using their power. He believed his motives to be justified, his actions merciful, but even as a child she was all-too-aware of the horrific potential of the stones, and after witnessing what they can do she wants nothing more than to watch them burn.

Strange, at least, seems to understand the workings of the Time Stone better than most ever could and would be a suitable protector, but even he bartered it for Stark's life. For a one in fourteen-million chance of winning. If he was willing to give it up for terrible odds before, who's to say he won't do so again? Next time they might not be so lucky.

He had been in the right though. The risk had paid off; had been a calculated move rather than some reckless act of desperation. Nebula has to keep reminding herself of that before she can descend into bitterness towards him all over again.

"Cap and the others are staying a little longer," Stark says, and it's only then that it hits her how long she's been silent. He doesn't seem to have any more energy to waste on the Infinity Stones though, which ends up suiting her just fine. "I need to go home first and have what's gonna look like the fastest change of heart in the world to appeal for their Avengers status to be restored. Which is gonna be a world of fun seeing as they're technically fugitives."

Well, that's news to her. Admittedly, she's only ever worked with the Avengers in Wakanda and any Earth politics beyond that is unavailable to her, nor is she particularly interested in it. Steve's status as the leader of the Avengers never seemed to be in dispute though. Even Stark had never questioned it in her presence, though she supposes she would have missed a lot of the earlier meetings back when sulking in the Benatar tended to be the more attractive option. Not that she can claim to know much about the group from Before anyway. After the initial meeting in the throne room, anyone willing to fight to save the universe was automatically dubbed an Avenger, and there didn't seem to be any official process to it. Nebula hadn't known what to make of the whole thing, beyond wondering why she always found herself fighting alongside people who insisted on using silly team-names.

"Wait," she says, her confusion clearer than she'd like, and she doesn't miss the amused smirk that crosses Stark's face. "The leader of the Avengers isn't technically an Avenger?"

"Kind of, yeah," Stark laughs, before shaking his head when the only response he gets from Nebula is a furrowed brow. "Trust me, that's a long story and not a very fun one. Not that it matters anymore."

Deciding that's probably as much as she wants to know, Nebula lets the matter drop. Petty squabbles or feuds tend to pale in comparison to what they've all endured and survived, and any bitterness Stark may have had towards Steve and the other Avengers must have died long ago if her observations have told her anything. She knows a little of what that's like; remembers being surprised at how easy it had been to forgive Gamora and start loving her again when they simply cast aside their need to beat each other and simply talked. When they remembered who the real enemy was and why they'd convinced themselves they hated each other in the first place.

The thought of her sister draws her attention back to the ship, and a strange emptiness fills her at the sight of Rocket carrying out final checks on the exterior. She's still within her allotted hour, she knows that much, but she likely has mere minutes before she starts wearing on their patience. It seems foolish given how much quiet time she's already had this week, but she finds herself craving more regardless.

"So, this is it," Stark states with a weighted sense of finality, and Nebula turns to find his gaze fixed on the Benatar as well. He did say he'd come to see Nebula off, and she's starting to think that wasn't entirely in jest.

"This is it," she agrees numbly, eliciting little more than a resigned hum from Stark.

Despite that understated acknowledgement, she still makes no attempt to move. Neither does Stark, though she imagines the damp ground beneath him must now be uncomfortable as it soaks through his tracksuit. Her fingers curl subconsciously around blades of grass as though to cling to this place a little longer, and she wonders if the prospect of being stuck on Earth is better or worse than the uncertainty she'll face once she leaves.

"You did it by the way," Stark says, so suddenly Nebula's surprised she doesn't flinch. His tone is unforthcoming, his eyes fixed to the ground rather than offering her clues, but in the end there's only one thing he can possibly be referring to, and a numb sensation like ice seeps into her chest.

"Thanos is dead. Thor found him on Titan, barely half a mile from where we woke up. Half-buried, apparently, though if we hadn't been so out-of-it we might actually have found him; saved ourselves some pain."

The numbness doesn't subside. If anything it gets worse and she feels her entire body go rigid, frozen in place as even her lungs refuse to co-operate, and she can focus on nothing but the grass before her. Thanos is dead. She's known that instinctively, she thinks, since slowly piecing everything together on Titan, but that tiny sliver of uncertainty had been enough to bury her in doubt. The lack of a body – the notion that he may simply have vanished – had forbidden her from relaxing, from believing Thanos was truly gone no matter how many times she reminded herself that he must be.

And now Stark is telling her there's no longer any reason for doubt. That irrefutable proof exists, even if she is no longer on Titan to see it.

That she has truly killed him.

"Thor removed his head for good measure," Stark continues, and Nebula nods in grim approval. That's a good strategy; one she'd probably have resorted to herself if she had the chance. "Which, yeah, that's a mental image I really didn't need, but at least we're sure now. You did it. It's over."

It's over.

She doesn't know what to do with that information. Part of her is aware she should be relieved or happy, no, overjoyed at the knowledge that the man who has poisoned her life so completely – the man who tortured her and Gamora and Stark and Thor and half of the universe – lies dead on the forgotten ruins of his homeworld.

Only, she doesn't feel anything. She doesn't feel. The numbness has faded to a blank nothingness, to the point where she simply feels hollow.

Perhaps when the news is less fresh and she has time to dwell on the fact that she's actually succeeded after years of failure, she'll be able to close her eyes and bask in grim satisfaction to her heart's content. For now though, she's simply lost in the uncertainty of what happens now. Her entire life has been marred by a hatred of Thanos. By a need to destroy him piece by piece, in the same cruel manner he treated her for years. His death had been quicker than she'd have liked, but at least he died knowing that he'd lost; that everything he'd worked towards was mere seconds from being wiped away.

What happens now remains a mystery to her. When she dreamed of killing him before, she'd never really envisioned surviving this long after the fact. Never let herself imagine the possibility of her escaping the ordeal and having to carry on. She's let herself become defined by one solitary goal, and now that it's complete she has no idea what her purpose is.

What is left for her to do?

"Are you okay?" Stark's voice breaks her from her thoughts, and she closes her eyes as she releases a grateful sigh. His concern should unnerve her, she thinks. It's one thing she never got used to throughout her time with the Avengers; how, if she needed to slink off to repair an injury or collapse from exhaustion, she would almost certainly be stopped by someone wanting to know if she was okay. If she needed help.

It isn't unpleasant. Not really. But the unfamiliarity of it all has never abandoned her.

"I don't know," she admits, and she turns to Stark to see something that might be empathy burning in his eyes. His smile is warm, encouraging, but also tight; likely he understands her inner turmoil more than he's willing to let on. "I guess I need to figure out where I stand now."

"Yeah," he breathes, and his smile dies a little when he adds, "You and me both,"

"What about you?" Nebula asks, because for all his forced attempts at lightness and the playing down of his injury, she knows him well enough to know that he too faces a long road ahead. Recovery from months of death and grief and the suffocating knowledge that trillions died in your place is not going to be as easy a fix as snapping one's fingers, no matter how often they're reminded that those months have ceased to exist. "Will you be alright?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm always alright," Stark says far too quickly, and Nebula has to resist the urge to scoff. Throughout the entire time she's known him, he's never once shown signs of being 'alright' and she doubts even their surprise victory has changed that. "What're one or two nightmares gonna do to me?"

It's possible he's hoping she'll let the matter drop – discussing feelings is neither or their strong suits after all – but she imagines her expression must say 'cut the bullshit' as clearly as her mind does. She doesn't say anything, given that she probably won't be able to contain a trace of venom if she does, but something in her face must betray her thoughts clearly, for Stark only has to look at her for a second before the facade drops and he releases a sigh of exhaustion.

"Honestly?" he asks, and she simply nods. "I don't know. I mean, I've experienced things before and come out the other end worse for wear, and then I just learned to deal with it, but this..."

He doesn't need to continue for her to know what he means. Compared to everything else he can possibly have suffered in the past – compared to everything she's suffered – the scars from Thanos' genocide will likely overshadow it all. Nebula imagines she'll spend the rest of her life expecting to wake up in that deleted reality, regardless of how genuine the current one feels.

"I won't be alone though," Stark promises, and Nebula sees a fond smile tug at his lips before he looks away from her. "Pepper and Rhodey know. I did the smart thing for once and told them everything. Figured it would only be a matter of time before they clicked that something was up if I didn't."

"Did they believe you?" Nebula asks. The Rhodey and Pepper she had come to know - albeit only a little - would have believed him easily, but they had experienced far more by that point than the Rhodey and Pepper who exist now. The story can't have been an easy one to tell, and she can see it becoming far-fetched very quickly.

Stark's answering smile offers some reassurance on that front, however, and he turns back to her with the same sheepishness from earlier lacing his tone.

"They did. One of the major downsides of knowing me is that weird shit just... happens. Stuff like this isn't outside the realm of possibility anymore. I mean, don't get me wrong; they're confused as hell and scared out of their minds, but they don't think I've gone mad. They'll look after me, keep me sane. They always do."

That's not as reassuring as it should be. Nebula frowns as something unidentifiable tugs at her chest, and she finds her eyes being drawn back to the ship before she can stop them. The sight of it only serves to remind her that she'll be leaving Earth in a matter of minutes, and that the chances of her returning are slim to none. After this, it's likely she'll never see Stark again.

As much as she initially dismissed the idea, over the months they've known each other Nebula has caught herself referring to Stark as her 'friend' more than once, and she hardly has many of those to spare. It disturbs her, much as she'd like to deny it, that as soon as she flies off with the Guardians, Stark's fate will forever be unknown to her. She'll never know if he'll go on to outlive them all or if he'll self-destruct within a week. Logic tells her that the outcome will be closer to the former – she has seen Stark survive breaking points left and right after all – but she wonders how long it'll take for the not-knowing to stop preying on her mind.

She can't help but roll her eyes in mild disgust at herself. Caring about Gamora's wellbeing is stressful enough without adding more people to the list.

"I'll be fine," Stark reiterates, and Nebula wonders if he's trying to reassure her or himself. Possibly both. "I promise."

"You better be," she mutters, though before Stark can feel touched by her sentiment, she simply rolls her eyes again and adds, "Would have been a waste of my time taking you back to Earth if not."

That elicits a full-bodied laugh that seems to take Stark by surprise, and the sight manages to lift some concern from Nebula's shoulders.

"Yeah, I guess it would have been," he concedes, before shaking his head and failing to suppress a smile. Nebula watches as he closes his eyes and releases a breath, the tension falling away from him in waves, and when he looks back to her all he has left is a sincere smile. "Thank you. For helping us save the universe."

"I don't think I can take too much credit," she says, dismissing his thanks with a shrug. It's hardly a lie; had things gone the way she planned, she and Rocket would have gone to their deaths months ago while Stark and his friends were left behind on Earth. He was the one who clung to hope in a situation where none existed, and it's probably the only reason they're both sitting here now. "All I did was tell you your ideas sucked while you were trying to fix everything."

"Okay, in your defence, my ideas did suck," Stark admits, before reaching over to good-naturedly pat her on the back. She should recoil from the contact, she thinks, but it's been so long since she's associated light touches with pain that she doesn't even flinch. "Come on, no arguments. It was a team effort. We couldn't have done it without you."

She wonders if there's any truth in that. True, it had been her blades that felled Thanos, but it's possible Thor or Danvers could have finished him off in her place. The insight she offered into Thanos' plans and mindset may have been dug up through interrogating some of his lackeys down the line, and what limited knowledge she had on the Infinity Stones may have been found later in Wong's books.

Then again, perhaps her presence was necessary. The one chance of victory in fourteen-million involved her after all, just as surely as it involved Thor and Stark. It's likely she'll spend the rest of her life wondering how that came to pass – how she of all people survived Thanos' initial genocide and all the pain that came after – but she knows by looking at Stark's face that there's little point in arguing with him further.

"Hey Neb!" a grating voice calls over the plains, and Nebula's jaw clenches as she glances over to see Rocket leaning out of the Benatar's hatch. Looks like her time is up. "Get over here or you're gettin' left behind!"

His words are followed by a rather impatient, "I am Groot!" that leads to Rocket berating the tree with all the severity of a parent, and Nebula can't quite contain a smirk as Stark breaks into quiet laughter himself.

"I think that's your cue," he says, before rising to his feet and swiping uselessly at the mud and grass-stains on his tracksuit bottoms. It takes a moment for Nebula to join him as she closes her eyes against the Wakandan sun one final time, but she too rises before long. "Wouldn't want you to miss your flight."

Neither of them seem eager to make a move after that though. As much as her eyes remain fixed on the ship, any desire to approach it refuses to make itself apparent. The Guardians won't leave without her, she knows that. She could stay a little longer if she wanted to; could visit the lab and see Shuri again, or run to the mountains for one final glance over the valley. It is foolish of her to want to stay, but as much as she's refused to think of this place as home, it's the closest she's come to having one for as long as she can remember.

But she can't stay. This isn't her planet. She can't wander into a crowd here without attracting a city-wide spotlight. And she knows that it wouldn't be long before glancing up at the stars would fill her with longing; that constantly having two feet on solid ground would drive her insane.

The decision to finally wander to where the Guardians await has barely taken hold when she's halted by a slight movement from Stark, and she watches as a silver hand emerges from his pocket before being extended towards her in a polite courtesy. It's a deliberate action on his part - extending the metal hand rather than the one that remains flesh-and-blood. If she didn't know that by instinct, his shy smile would certainly be indication enough.

"Until we meet again, Nebula," he says, as though attempting to make this farewell less final than it actually is.

Then again, the idea of returning to Earth one day - of being able to see him and the Avengers again under better circumstances... It isn't an unpleasant one.

"Until then," she says, with a small smile she makes no effort to hide, and it's possible she's merely humouring him with that promise but she can't bring herself to care. She takes his hand in her own – Vibranium meeting Vibranium – and shakes it once as she utters a final, "Goodbye Tony."

It takes a second or two for Stark's shy smile to spread into a proper one, and he ultimately has to duck his head to conceal it. In the end, he's the first to free his hand, implicitly bidding her farewell as he turns to face the ship. A final, indecipherable yell from Groot (though she has a pretty good idea of what he's saying) is enough to spur her into action and she regards Stark with a final, brief nod, before turning away and trekking across the grass towards the waiting ship.

She refuses to look back, but she knows that if she were to turn around she would find him in the same spot.

Likely it's where he'll stay until the Benatar is little more than a speck on the horizon.

Emerging onto the ship brings her face-to-face with Groot's impatient wrath and a frustrated, "What the hell took you so long?" from Rocket, neither of which she acknowledges as she settles on the only vacant seat and straps herself in. Quill is all set to go, though he at least doesn't seem to mind having had to wait, and Gamora rests on the seat below Nebula; looking up with a small smile before returning to the console at her side. Oddly enough, they end up needing to wait even longer thanks to Groot refusing to put down his game and strap himself in, but it isn't long before the engines come to life and the Benatar prepares to lift off again, receiving a final message over the comms politely wishing them a safe journey before they leave the earth in their wake.

Nebula simply contents herself with looking out the window while Quill and Rocket take charge of flying; watches Stark and the towering city at his back shrink rapidly as they climb upwards, before the world shimmers in a blue flash and the visage of a dense rainforest finally conceals him from view.


Her namesakes can be beautiful on occasion.

The nebula before her is a splash of purple against inky blackness, with pink and green swirls crawling towards the centre like smoke. She finds herself lost in the view as she sits alone in the Eclector's viewing gallery; all sense of time having left her long ago. Kraglin had been the one to direct her here, once the barrage of Quill singing at the top of his lungs and Rocket berating Groot and Drax's booming laughter at anything even remotely amusing became too tumultuous to bear. Nebula would consider seeking him out and thanking him, if the thought of sharing space with another person didn't make her feel so on-edge. The instant she wanders back to the heart of the ship, the noise will return and she won't be able to think or breathe, and right now she needs the space to do both while she figures out what the hell she's supposed to do.

When her eyes aren't fixed on the random assortment of colours before her, they wander all too often towards the hangar lying adjacent to the gallery. She doesn't need to peer inside to know she will find a vacant M-ship there, awaiting a pilot to fly it across the galaxy. Without a second thought, she could take it and go wherever she wants. There's an entire universe to explore, including a nearby trading planet composed almost entirely of marketplaces not unlike Wakanda's; albeit far dingier and boasting more counterfeit goods. Nebula could thrive on a planet like that. She could steal whatever supplies she needs to survive for the first few months, slowly build a reputation for herself, and ultimately run her own operation selling false goods to the ignorant masses.

Or she could simply travel. There is so much left of the universe that she hasn't seen yet and even less that she's had the chance to enjoy. She could fly away, stay on a different planet every night, and slowly but surely discover what life can be like After Thanos.

Or she could stay here, though even as that thought crosses her mind she finds her own instinct rejecting it. The Guardians are a family. If she were to stay, she would be nothing but an intruder.

Her musings are interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps approaching with caution, and it is only then that Nebula realises she's closed her eyes. She is still so tired - still reeling from weeks and months of fighting no matter how much sleep she gets - though something in her chest lightens when Gamora comes into view to sit by her side. The sight of her is still an arresting one, though Nebula has finally stopped waiting for a cruel trick to be revealed and for her sister to collapse into dust.

"I figured I'd find you lurking around here," Gamora says with a fond smile as she comes to rest on the bench facing the window; the purple of the nebula reflected in her eyes. She still carries the same haunted look that was present in the throne room, though over the days she has gotten better at hiding it. Nebula has avoided her own reflection for fear of what she'll find, though she now can't help but wonder if her own eyes give the same impression. "I used to come here all the time too. It's hard to find somewhere quiet on any ship with Drax on it."

A smile tugs at Nebula's lips, before her eyes are drawn back to the view. They're in a quiet sector of this star system – the nearest planet is over a million miles away – and she supposes it makes a twisted degree of sense that her crewmates would try to be extra loud to compensate. They won't be staying here long though. The Guardians have received a request for assistance from a planet halfway across the galaxy, and it won't be long before they set off on the Benatar while Kraglin hangs back to defend what's left of the Eclector. That would be the best opportunity to leave, Nebula thinks. Once the Guardians are out of the way for a few days, she can hang back and steal an M-ship while Kraglin is otherwise occupied.

Such plans can wait, however. For now, she has her sister by her side – something she never dreamed of having again – and for the moment she's content to enjoy her company in silence.

She hasn't had as much time to do that as she'd hoped during the past week, though she can't begrudge Gamora that. If she'd truly wanted to lay eyes upon her sister every waking moment, she'd have accompanied the Guardians on their trip to Quill's home, but Nebula had let the desire for her own space overwhelm any need for further assurance that her sister was alive. The memories of her embrace in the throne room were confirmation enough that Gamora was here – that Thanos would never be able to take her away again – but now, Nebula realises that even those memories pale in comparison to the relief that comes with having her physically by her side.

The thought of that embrace brings back an echo of "Do you remember?" followed by a heartfelt, "I'm sorry," and something in Nebula's chest tightens as she realises that those forgotten months were experienced by Gamora too. That she must recall her time spent in the Soul Stone, trapped under Thanos' control, and a morbid curiosity takes hold before she can stop it.

"Were you...awake?" Nebula asks, though the word feels inappropriate somehow. She hadn't wanted to know what Gamora went through – has little desire to comprehend what those months had been like for her – but it's obvious that Gamora remembers more than she's letting on. "When you were trapped. Were you aware of anything?"

Gamora hesitates for a moment, her eyes pointedly fixed on the nebula before her as though banishing the memories from her mind. Her mouth opens as though to say something before she thinks better of it - merely ducking her head while taking a few steady breaths - and Nebula can't help but wonder if she should regret asking.

"Sometimes," Gamora admits eventually, looking up to Nebula again with a weak smile that does little to conceal the unshed tears in her eyes. "But mostly it just felt like I was floating. Or drowning, rather."

Hatred flares in Nebula's chest on her sister's behalf, directed at a man who is no longer alive to bear the brunt of it. Had Thanos known that Gamora would still be present, still 'alive' in some way, when he sacrificed her? Had he even cared? Probably not. For all that he'd declared Gamora to be his 'favourite' daughter as they grew up, his children had only ever been tools to aid him in his goal. He had little love for any of them, and as soon as they rebelled against him they simply became obstacles to be crushed underfoot.

"When he snapped his fingers," Gamora says, so quietly Nebula almost misses it, and a tear finally trails down her cheek as she releases a shuddering breath. "I felt it. All those people... I felt every one of them die."

Nebula knows a little of what that's like. She hadn't needed to feel all those deaths to know she was partly responsible for each and every one, and she spent months with the weight of trillions of souls on her conscience – threatening to shatter her more completely than Thanos ever could. Stark had experienced that same guilt alongside her, as had Thor who'd eventually revealed that his brother sacrificed the Space Stone to save him, only to be murdered moments later. Their lives had seemed so meaningless, so unworthy when put up against the trillions who were sacrificed on their behalf, that Nebula had spent every waking moment resisting the urge to scream.

It was Gamora who placed that burden on her shoulders. It is unfair to think like that now, considering the months of guilt her sister has likely suffered as well, but Nebula can't simply forget the self-loathing that consumed her for months due to her sister's sacrifice.

"I-" she halts for a moment, as any words she can possibly say feel woefully insignificant. It's only when her sister's eyes meet her own, expectant and encouraging, that she releases her confession on a mute whisper. "There was a long time where I couldn't bring myself to forgive you. I loved you, I missed you, but -"

She forces herself to stop before she can raise her voice; before she can bare her soul more than she already has. Gamora's eyes burn as fiercely as her soft hand on Nebula's cheek once had - that final act of comfort before Thanos took her to the slaughter - and the reopened wound seems to suck the air from her lungs.

"It was like you'd made me complicit," she admits eventually, and gnawing guilt sinks its teeth into her before she can stop it. She knows, logically, that there is no longer any reason to feel guilty, but that has never been enough to dissuade her nightmares. To dissuade the sinking void that spreads throughout her chest when she remembers the fateful moment when Gamora sacrificed the Soul Stone's location. "Like all those deaths wouldn't have happened if you'd just let me die."

"I'm sorry," Gamora whispers, so softly it's like the words have to be pulled from her lips, and it's so unlike her – so vulnerable – that Nebula has to suppress a shudder.

Part of her wonders if she would have done the same. If it were Gamora strung up like a rag-doll, screaming in pain while electricity coursed through her, would Nebula have been willing to sacrifice trillions to make it stop?

She doesn't know, and that's possibly the most terrifying thing of all.

"Don't-" she shakes her head, before turning her eyes away and facing the splash of colour beyond the window. The universe is in one piece. Everything Thanos destroyed has been restored, and most of their mistakes have been remedied. Perhaps once she would have held onto her anger until it burned her hand, but she is old enough now to realise that doing so will only result in harming herself. "I don't blame you. Not anymore. The only person worth blaming is dead."

It is still strange to be able to say that. Even Gamora seems frozen at the reminder, her eyes drifting to the floor as her breaths cease. It is so strange to have their oppressor finally absent from their lives, after decades or pain and fighting and hatred. It's almost feels like there should be more fanfare – a parade of celebrations across the galaxy – but instead there's simply a quiet confirmation that has them frozen for a moment, dwelling on what a life without Thanos will consist of.

"What will you do now?" Gamora asks, heaving a sigh as though to release herself from her memories. She seems lighter for doing so, but Nebula imagines her sister must simply be better at hiding her pain than she is. She always has been.

"I don't know," Nebula admits, and the continuing uncertainty has her heart sinking in her chest. Her eyes are drawn once again to the hangar and she envisions the M-ships within; imagines taking one across the galaxy and leaving her past far behind her. "Fly off somewhere. Start over."

"You could stay," Gamora states, as though that option was never in question, and Nebula looks back to her as though she's spoken in tongues. It's an offer Gamora's extended before, following the destruction of Ego, but several years have passed since then and the Guardians have only grown closer, while Nebula chose to survive on her own. Staying would feel like an infringement at this stage, though Gamora doesn't seem to share that view. "It's not like we don't have room. I could show you all the best hiding places for when the boys are being annoying. And Rocket's become rather fond of you."

"Rocket hates me," Nebula points out, because the idea of him expressing fondness is so absurd she has to resist a smirk. "We can't exchange two words without wanting to strangle each other."

"Trust me," Gamora laughs, and the sound is so carefree after everything that's happened that Nebula finds herself feeling lighter upon hearing it. "The fact that he hasn't tried to strangle you is proof that he doesn't hate you."

Admittedly, of all the Guardians besides her sister, Rocket's probably the only one who's expressed an ability to tolerate her; albeit that was out of necessity. For a few, endless months they were the only people in the galaxy who completely understood each other's pain.

That thought only serves as a fatal reminder that almost half the residents on this ship now know the intimate agony of losing the others. No matter what happens, Rocket will spend the rest of his life fighting to keep his family safe, and wherever Nebula ends up, she will never be able to stop searching for news of Gamora to ensure she's still out among the stars.

"Besides," Gamora continues, unaware of the thoughts eating away at Nebula. "If Peter insists on calling us the 'Guardians of the Galaxy', you're probably the most qualified of all of us."

That's a strange thought if ever there was one, so much so that Nebula scoffs before realising the statement isn't as outlandish as it sounds. There's some truth to it, no matter how unlikely that seems.

I would help you destroy a thousand planets, she'd told Ronan once, and perhaps back then she would have done. Back when killing Thanos was the only thing that mattered; when his teachings and endless torture had bred nothing but inescapable anger; when hatred flared in her heart upon all mention of Gamora, rather than the love she'd had as a child. So much has changed since then that she can barely recognise the broken creature from her memories. And yet, the galaxy still hasn't done all that much for her. Not enough to justify her becoming one of its 'guardians' – surface-level as the title may be – and she's not sure whether she truly owes it her services or whether it owes her some peace.

Then again, the galaxy never did much for Yondu either. Hasn't done much for Gamora or Quill or Rocket, yet they still fight time and time again to keep it safe; still wear the title of 'Guardian' with pride.

The universe never did anything for Stark or Thor or any of the Avengers, yet they still risked everything to save it without a second thought and would probably do so again.

A warm hand clamps gently around her own – synthetic nerve endings identify her sister's touch before the contact can make her flinch – and Nebula slowly turns to face the longing in her sister's eyes; the solemnity pouring from her with no restraint.

"Stay?" Gamora asks, and Nebula finds herself reeling at the vulnerability in her voice; an unspoken desperation lingering in the air like smoke. "I'd like you to stay."

It hits Nebula then that she isn't the only one in desperate need of a sister.

She lets herself consider the offer for a moment; imagines what it might be like to stay here with the Guardians. Imagines waking up in a familiar bed every time she manages to claim some rest. Imagines having a home, rather than a place to linger for a few weeks before forcing herself to leave. If she stays, it might actually be possible to move on from everything Thanos has done to her. She might be able to do good for a change; might be able to work towards some degree of happiness - or at the very least contentment - while spiting her father's memory with every day she continues to thrive.

Nebula closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she lets herself dwell on the possibilities; lets herself consider the idea of having a sense of stability. Of having a home, a purpose.

A family to call her own.

"Okay."


A/N - Thank you all so much for reading this story and for all of your favourites, follows and reviews! Writing this story has been a lot of fun and I'm honestly going to miss constantly planning it out in my head.

Your kind response has been so overwhelming and encouraging and I couldn't have finished this without your support, so thank you all so much!