A/N: I had the outline of this story ready before the movie Endgame every came out. It was sort of my idea of what was going to happen after Infinity War, but I never got around to publishing it. Now, I finally feel ready to start putting out the chapters I've finished.

I didn't really know what to name this story, so I kept the name Endgame because it is based on that, but definitely does not follow the movie. I really ended up hating the movie and it destroyed so much of my interest in Marvel films. Kind of sad, they had been doing so great until then. But, to each their own, I know some people liked it and I'm glad for that.

As I started writing this way over a year ago I know my writing style might change a little with the next coming chapters. I'm really sorry if that happens. I'll try my best to stick with how the first chapter is, but I always find it hard to keep everything the same especially when I write longer stories. I also don't speak much English nowadays, I just write in English. Even so, I promise to do my best. If you catch something super weird, I guess you can let me know and I might get around to fixing it.

With that, please enjoy the first chapter.

Chapter 1

– There was an idea, to bring together a group of remarkable people;

to see if we could become something more –

Dust. The word fluttered fleetingly through his mind, a quiet voice, just an observation, before he realized that that was what his best friend was turning into. Steve's name still on his lips as he crumbled away, wide-eyed; pleading. Then, there was just silence and the encroaching forest of Wakanda around him.

"Bucky?" His voice sounded small, barely a whisper in the wind. He stared at the dirt on the ground, trying to pick out anything left of his friend. But nothing remained, no vibranium arm, no nothing. Bucky was lost to him again, and just when he had thought he had gotten him back. The mind control HYDRA had placed on him had finally been unraveled and there had been hope of a better future. A future for them to become a team again. To become friends. Family.

Steve felt a micro-shudder pass through him as his mind finally caught up to what had happened. Felt the saliva dry on his tongue and the breath catch in his throat. The very air around him became heavy. Leadened with dust and dirt and the smell of ozone from the alien weaponry. It all numbed his senses, clogged his nose and throat and prickled at his eyes.

Bucky was gone.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder and Thor was saying something next to him. Words that filtered through to him as if passing through thick cotton. He tried grasping at them, but their meaning was lost. His mind hyper-sensitive to the dust upon his lips; his tongue, and the world shrinking and growing and tugging at him from all sides.

Shock.

He had gone through shock before. Had lost people before, but this felt different. He had never seen anyone crumble away and turn to dust. Not like this. Nothing could have prepared him, and the feeling of powerlessness that filled him made the weight of the loss all that much worse.

He needed to sit down; needed to gather himself and move on. Because that was what soldiers did.

"I'm sorry, my friend. I failed to stop him." Thor looked pained by his side, heterogeneous eyes sunken and tired. It was a sight that shot right through his shock and doused him in cold water.

He had no time for shock or sorrow. Grievances would have to wait. If Thor could remain his regal self than Steve could muster up just that extra ounce needed to go on. To fight what needed to be fought so that no more unnecessary lives had to be taken.

For but a moment, anger simmered in his chest, but the feeling of defeat quickly smothered it. "Where is he?"

"He has used the stones to leave. I do not believe he remains upon Midgard."

He nodded in something akin to agreement and took in the upturned ground around them and the downed trees that lay scattered about, as if a bomb had gone off. This battle, like many previously, had ended in failure. A bleak mark upon an already bleak record. Two years off the radar—on the run, and he still could not hold on to that which was important to him. Friends; family, they all withered away before him.

With a deep breath he straightened, twisted the thin—too light—shield to a better position on his arm, and turned to take in the demigod. He looked dirty and tired, but surprisingly healthy for having arrived so promptly upon the battlefield. The only exception being the heterogeneous eyes. Those were new. As was his hammer, which now took the form of an axe. Steve blinked at that but put it off as an Asgardian thing.

"You okay?" he wondered, clearing his throat from the tightness that yet remained.

Thor's smile was painful, barely a twist of the lips. "No, shield-friend, I can't say I am. Much has happened since we last saws. I have, yet again, lost my brother. And my father as well." Those oddly colored eyes glanced out at the distance, and Steve knew the man was looking at something far away. A place he could never see, but the longing look, that was something he could at least understand. "None remains of my kingdom. No home for my people to return to. It is a bleak future we face now."

There would be no condolence Steve could give that would ever be worth it. The man was moving on because that was all he could do. They had no time to bother with the past, no matter how appealingly it beckoned for them to lose themselves in its memory; in its possibilities.

In the quietness that had fallen around them, Steve and Thor could pick out the panicked shouts of the Wakandans. Their wails of grief filtering through the heavily leafed forest. A sad, desolate sound. Steve tensed upon hearing it, biting down hard on his lip to steal himself for the world they would step out into the moment they passed the tree line. Half of the people would be gone. That was their new reality. It was one that would take a while to come to terms with.

"We have failed.

"Aye, so we have."

Rustling and hurried footsteps were heading their way, and Steve turned to greet them, be they friend or foe, with a grim look upon his face.

"Rogers!" Bruce shouted, stumbling out from between the trees. The man had taken himself out of his machinery, covered in dirt and grim and with a desperate look upon his face. A look that would have mirrored Steve's earlier. "Vision—Vision's gone; his stone got taken and… Wanda… she's gone, Steve. Gone… just became dust right before my eyes."

The trembling in the man's hands and the pallor of his skin twisted something in Steve's stomach. Bruce Banner was a scientist, not a fighter. It was the Hulk that was their main tank, the smasher on the team; not Bruce. Bruce who would coil himself up in heating blankets after a fight and do breathing exercises to calm himself. He was their man of reason, always stepping in before dispute could arise and calm the nerves of their group of misfits. If Steve had it his way, Bruce would never see the field of battle. He should not have to stand trembling before him like he did now. It did not sit well with Steve. But even so, Bruce had been the first to step up to fight against Thanos, steel in his usually soft eyes. Two years he had been gone. Two years that Steve knew nothing about other than that the man had been stranded on a garbage dump of a planet. Alone and with the Hulk in the driver's seat. The knowledge sat like hot iron in Steve's belly, and on top of that, he had let the man fight when the real fighter, the Hulk, hid himself away; cowering in fear while Bruce shouldered a burden unfit for a scientist.

"We've failed. Thanos has all seven of the stones," Steve said, his voice flat, and then pushed on more quietly, "Bucky too. He's gone." Bruce was staring at him with wide understanding eyes, and Steve realized that that was not the future he wanted. He never wanted a future where people understood loss. That was what had made him so adamant in entering World War II. To fight the Nazis and stop the senseless killing. Such understanding was unnecessary. He fought wars not to create more, but for a future without them. Understanding loss and suffering would not lead them to salvation, only a life divorced from such darkness could lead the world into an era of peace.

He ran a dirt covered hand through his long hair, grimacing when it caught and tangled around his fingertips, and glanced at the towering peaks of Wakanda's capital, Birnin Zana, that loomed above the trees. Thor and Bruce followed his sight. "We need to regroup. The enemy is yet to be gone."

Smoke curled its way up and darkened the sky with its soot.

Thor clasped him yet again on his shoulder and gave a sharp nod to Bruce. "I shall make certain that the forces of Thanos can take no more from us." With that, Thor stormed out of their sight, heading straight for the open plains they had come from.

Steve and Bruce turned to search for the rest of their group. Not that there was much to find. Vision's body laid in a broken heap among roots and bushes. And like Bruce had said, no sign of Wanda could be found.

"We can't just leave him there," Bruce said, eyes fixed on the empty spot where the mind stone had once sat.

Steve sunk down and laid a hand over the dark red of the man's arm, and shuddered at the coldness he felt. The fluidity that had once existed to the vibranium skin was gone, leaving hardness and the hollow clang of the interior body that contained nothing but fiber optic networks and long rows of cables connected to an array of hard drives.

Vision had never seemed less human to Steve than he did then.

"We'll come back for him."

Bruce did not argue against him and just nodded slowly. It made Steve feel bad. Like his decision had somehow taken the humanity out of the Vision's death.

He promised himself he would come back even if no one else cared to give Vision the proper respect of one fallen in battle.

The next one they stumbled upon was War Machine. Who was down on his knees, face-plat popped open and metal hands digging deep furrows into the ground. It was a sad sight and told more than Steve wanted to know. He cleared his throat loudly and put extra force into his steps as he neared the man. Hoping to keep himself from getting blasted into a tree. "Colonel James Rhodes."

The man stilled, machinery whining, but no weaponry was pointed in their direction.

"Mission report, soldier," he ordered, hoping the familiarity of the words would pull the man out from wherever his mind had wandered off to.

"We were engaging alien targets that had slipped off to circle through the main fight in the forest. Together we managed to hinder their advancement, but then, it all just… stopped. Things became…"

The man stared long and hard at the ground, but he had trailed off. "Who were 'we'?"

"Falcon… Sam."

Another painful twist went through Steve and he had to close his eyes for a second, another deep breath. "What happened to Flacon?"

"It was quiet."

"I asked you what happened."

Dark eyes blinked awake and Rhodes stared up at him. The man looked startled as if for the first time he truly realized who stood before him. "Captain Rogers. What happened?"

He suppressed a scowl.

Bruce stepped forward bringing both of their attentions on him; the man was twining his hands like he often did when nervous or the center of attention. A trait clearly not lost after two years on another planet. "We lost. Thanos has won. He's annihilated half the population."

Seeing the realization sink in to someone's eyes was an eye-opening experience. Especially when it had to do with your friends' death. "Sam. The Falcon, so he's really gone? Just like that. Turned to dust?"

"Afraid so," Steve said, unable to stare the man in the face and so reverted his eyes to the scratched heavy armor. It was so unlike Starks. And that thought just brought up more questions in his head. Was Stark alive? Would he know what had transpired?

"So, we're the only ones left?" Rhodes took a moment to process his own question, neither Steve nor Bruce answering him, then he looked panicked as he glanced up into the sky. "I need to go. If half the population just disappears like this, it'll be chaos. The world governments will declare war on one another."

Bruce drew in a sharp breath next to him. "They'll search for someone to blame. To point the finger at someone even if it means conjuring up an enemy where there is none. Oh, God. The world will fall into another war."

That was something Steve hoped to keep from happening. Enough lives had been lost. "Go, colonel. I believe you are needed elsewhere. We will handle what remains of the alien forces here."

The man nodded, drawing himself up and powering up the powerful thrusters on his hands and feet, but hesitated in blasting off. "About Sam, will there be a—" He looked lost and Steve wanted to cry because he knew the question. He also knew there was no time for funerals.

"Don't let another war break out," he said instead of answering.

Rhodes blinked at him, and in his armor, they stood at about the same height. The man was military enough to read through what was left unsaid and dropped the face plate. And Steve continued staring into the cold artificial eyes. Over the high-powered whine, he could just pick out the mechanical voice of Rhodes'. "Yes, sir. You can count on me."

Then the man was gone, and there was only the two of them again.

Bruce and Steve shared a long look.

"We should return," Bruce said.

Nodding, Steve started picking his way in the direction of the towering peak that stood visible in all areas of Wakanda. "Do you need to pick up your armor?"

"Nah." The man ran a tired hand through his hair, ruffling it and making it stick up in all directions. "Thrusters stopped working after the last hit I took. I'm going to need something that can do some heavy lifting to be able to get that piece of junk out."

Steve smiled, a small forced kind of smile that tugged unnaturally at the corner of his lips. His amusement not quite able to force itself out. Not that it mattered, Bruce was turned away, eyes focused upon something in the distance.

"Hey, isn't that…"

The man stomped off deeper into the woods, leaving Steve behind. And with nothing to do, he followed after.

The talking raccoon looking creature that had been arguing with Bucky sat motionless on the forest floor. Bruce creeped closer to it, a worried look carved into his face.

"You okay?" Bruce asked gently, reaching out with a hesitant hand that never touched its target.

"Leave me alone," the raccoon hissed. "Haven't you guys done enough. Just go already, I certainly don't need you."

It was obvious the creature was grieving. Those dark round eyes staring blankly ahead while a clawed hand scraped through soft dirt. Bruce hunkered down next to him but made no move to touch him.

"Hey, now. Nothing can get done sitting here. Why don't you come back with us to the tower? I'm sure they can take a look at those injuries you have."

"Piss off, I said."

Steve wanted to step in, but he had never dealt with a non-humanoid before. A talking animal was still something he was trying to process. It was best he left all the talking to Bruce. The man had after all been god knows where for the last two years, and maybe the sight would not be so strange to him.

"Groot." The creature's head shot up at Bruce's word, anger clear and shimmering in his eyes. Steve tensed at that. "That was your friend's name, right."

"Friend?" he sneered. "Kid, more like it. He shouldn't even have been here."

Everyone fell silent, and Steve shifted uncomfortably but remained firmly where he was. He remembered the small tree creature that he had greeted earlier well. Had been amazed at the strengths of its reaching branches that took down all enemies around it.

"Saving the universe. What a fucking joke." The small fist made a large indent in the ground when it slammed down in anger. Furry shoulders shaking. "Fucking joke is what it is, all of it. It's not the universe that needs saving."

Closing his eyes, Steve made his decision.

"No, it isn't," he agreed, finally bringing himself to move forward; to kneel down and stare honestly into large saddened eyes. "Sometimes, some of us are given the opportunity to save more than just that which is in front of us, and when that opportunity comes, I think it's our duty to take it. Not because we're able to, but because we need to. Not for the universe, maybe not even for our friends, but for ourselves. So that when we get home, we can stare ourselves in the mirror and not hate what stares back."

The raccoon—Rocket he would learn—turned away, a silent sob wracking through his body. "Go away," he whispered, and Steve did just that, dragging Bruce with him

"I'm sure he'll pull himself out of that. He seems strong." The words were not said to anyone specifically, just Steve talking to himself.

Bruce answered, nonetheless. "So are you."

He blinked down at the scientist. And part of him really wished the man had not disappeared two years ago. When Tony and he had needed his level-headedness the most.

"I'm glad you're back."

He really meant that.

—V—V—

General Okoye looked as imposing as ever when Bruce and he finally caught up to the rest of the forces. Next to her stood a man Steve had not met before but knew as the leader of the Jabari Tribe. If he remembered correctly from all the letters from Bucky, the man was called M'Baku.

Both the two war leaders were tense; gazing out over the smoking field of a once evergreen plain.

"General," Steve greeted, his eyes following where she was looking. "The enemy is retreating. Will you pursue?"

She snapped towards him, wild; beautiful in her own way. "The forces of Wakanda prioritizes the injured before the enemy. This battle is over, let them retreat, their leader is gone, and we have lost many. Far too many. You may pursue if you want, Captain Rogers, but we of Wakanda will tend to our own and look to a brighter future."

He shook his head, holding his hands up before him. "We have no reason to continue this fight. Our business is with Thanos; sadly, those followers of his cannot lead us to him. Not with him using all seven of the stones at his disposal. It'll be impossible to catch him as it is now."

M'Baku stood like a guard next to the general, his eyes cold as he took in Steve and Bruce. "You have led much suffering upon Wakanda. And you led a war upon us that was unbeatable. I should kill you where you stand for it." Steve tightened, coiled and ready, and drew his shield closer. "But, our leader, King T'Challa, believed in you. Believed you could save us. And as much as it pains me, I will believe in you, too. A time of darkness has come and Wakanda cannot fight through it alone. Not without our King."

Steve stilled, freezing in place as his breath caught in his throat. More sadness, more senseless death. He thought he had prepared himself, but T'Challa, he had grown close to that man after he had welcomed Bucky into his home—his land. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through the pain of it. "T'Challa is gone?"

Neither the general nor M'Baku answered. And Bruce did not know him, but he understood well enough the meaning of a king having fallen.

"If you wish to be of use," Okoye began, her clear dark eyes staring straight into Steve's own, "then help get the injured off the field and into the medical ward. Our princess is waiting for us."

—V—V—

The central tower was milling with soldiers from all tribes. Loud shouts coming from all directions as people searched for one another. And Steve knew many of those shouts would find no echoing answer. The days that would follow would be somber ones. Grief would have to settle before productivity could take place.

Steve pushed his own grief to the side. It was such a familiar feeling, a hollowness that constantly resided within him. A man out of time. Grief had made its home within him, and though he had not overcome it, he had learned to live with it. He had learned to accept the inevitable. Even as it hurt and ached and a part of him craved the opportunity to sink into its sweet embrace, where responsibility and care floated away; leaving one numb to the world around them. But worse would come if they did not stay sharp. Something worse than disappearances would be knocking on Earth's doorstep soon, and Steve planned to be there to intercept it.

Right now, the world needed the Avengers. Not to save them from alien beings or otherworldly powers, but to save them from themselves and their own grievances. Sadness and hatred went hand-in-hand after all. Of that, Steve knew. He had seen it happen often enough.

The people of Wakanda milled around him, leaving him standing in the center of a large empty circle. After Bruce left his side no one else had come close to him. Leaving him be. He had tried making himself useful, doing heavy lifting and helping carry the injured inside, but his actions felt hollow. Like he needed to be elsewhere. But where that was exactly, he could not quite figure out.

By now, the battlefield had been cleared, leaving only broken weaponry and a blood-soaked ground. Something that would be washed away by the next storm. The earth would clear all traces of the tragedy that had befallen today.

He was now by himself, feeling lost.

Then, Natasha was there, small hands bracing him from the side with intent eyes. "Captain?"

"You haven't called me that in a while."

She was still giving him that look. It took him a while to figure it out and when he did, he felt stupid. Of course. Natasha was like him, someone used to orders in times of chaos. She was just as lost as him and wanted confirmation as to what to do. Here where there was no SHIELD and no mission objective. They were just two soldiers whose purpose had been lost and were now left standing—waiting for the next order.

Steve could do that at least: give orders.

"We need to make contact with the world council. Rhodey has already left to intercept the US military from mobilizing without reason, but he won't be able to hold them for long."

Understanding dawned in her eyes, and the Black Widow blinked back at him. The lost look falling away, and with it, Steve felt a little more certain as to how to proceed.

—V—V—

It was late, almost morning, when the commotion at the tower had calmed, and Steve, Bruce and Natasha were gathered in a room with General Okoye and Princess Shuri. Everyone was running on the last of their energy. The air heavy around them. Shuri who had just lost her brother but was still working hard to fix the external damage done to the city. The general who had been barking orders left and right for the past hours. Bruce who had been cooped up in medical taking care of the injured with his non-medical doctorate—not that anyone cared. And Natasha who had disappeared into the communications room for damaged control, Steve assumed. They were all tired. And the day was not yet over.

Steve looked over the small team, feeling proud at how everyone was dealing with the aftermath. He felt especially proud of Shuri. Impressed might be an even better word. She was so very young, but a true warrior shone out from her eyes and he knew that one day she would make an amazing Queen if she ever stepped up and took that place. T'Challa might be gone, but Wakanda would continue forward.

Thor arrived quietly, somber and worn, Rocket—the raccoon—with him. He gave the room at large a sharp nod and made his way towards Shuri, whom he greeted with a gentle bow of his neck and a soft, "Princess."

Rocket ignored everyone in the room and threw himself up on some control panels that made both Steve and Okoye tense. The creature made no moves to press anything, though, and the two shifted in place letting their tense muscles uncoil.

Before anyone had time to say anything, the speakers crackled and a familiar voice came online.

"Welcome back, everyone."

Bruce started the most, eyes wide and breath fast, close to panicked.

Steve on the other hand was slow, brain trying to digest what he was hearing.

Thor laughed, loud and pleased, twirling on the spot and staring straight up at the high vaulted ceiling. "Jarvis, the man in the walls, you are alive, how pleasing."

"JARVIS?" Steve said. "Not Vision?"

"It has been a long time, Captain; I am pleased to see you doing well. The man known as Vision and I indeed do share the same voice program; however, I am not him."

"I thought that after Ul—after that, that you no longer existed," Bruce said, staring at the ceiling as if it contained all his answers.

"I am afraid sir and I decided that it would be best if I remained in incognito mode as he so called it after Ultron. With Vision containing a large part of my data, it seemed best I would have as little interaction with him as possible. I, of course, agreed with sir on this and have been silently doing my job in the background."

Those words tugged at something fearful within Steve. Steve who was still getting used to a world of highly intelligent technology even after 10 years.

"Your job?"

"Indeed. I have been watching you all. Your fight two years ago, your time as so-called fugitives and, of course, this battle with the being known as Thanos."