What's that phrase; It's always darkest before the dawn?

Not entirely true, but it makes for some nice cinema.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 11: Is it Just You My Dear?

Nebula rolled the stripped wire thoughtfully between her fingers. It was a project she'd been working on for some time now. A futile sort of effort that had a great risk involved. It had been abandoned a good many times already for the fear that it would backfire spectacularly, and because, deep down, she already knew it wouldn't work. There was no functioning machinery left to worry about frying, though, and while the practical survivor in her was loath to risk burning up the last of their oxygen, the more resigned portion of her mind reasoned that a swifter death may prove a mercy at this point.

From the flight deck, she could hear the ragged breathing of the dying Terran as his body struggled for more oxygen even in his sleep. He had maybe one cycle left. It was a toss up if the low oxygen or lack of water would do him in first, the blood in his veins slowly turning into sludge until it was too thick for his heart to pump.

She could feel her own blood beginning to do the same. Or maybe it was just the lack of oxygen affecting her brain and weakening her heart. The same race for death that was claiming him was waging in her as well. It wouldn't really matter in the end, which one took them. They'd be dead all the same.

The panel in her forearm was propped open, one wire from the tangled mess of ship's guts already twisted into them as she selected the correct line for the one in her hands. Carefully, she stripped the insulation from the second wire , then shaped it in her hand until it formed a little hook. Couldn't have it falling off and blowing their only shot at this, the part of her that played along with this little charade of hope quipped.

It was going to hurt. There was no sense in lying to herself about that. It might even kill her. But the way she looked at it, she had nothing much to lose, and something to gain either way; A last desperate snatch into the darkness at hope, or a swift, merciful death. Either she would wake up, or there would be nothing worth waking up to anyways.

Tony's breathing drifted on through the air, steady in its rough uneven beat, and assuring her that he was asleep, and she would not be interrupted. With one last deep breath she attached the wire.

Pain hit like a brick wall, and then there was nothing.

-x-

Consciousness came back in sprigs of color and sparkles of pain, her cybernetic systems rebooted as her organic pieces stirred begrudgingly from the safe haven of the deepest sleep. There was the sense that she had been gone for quite some time, but her mind was too weary and scrambled to tell her for certain just yet. When she blinked the fizzling nothingness from her eyes it was to the all too familiar, and entirely unwelcome, sight of the dirty roof of the Benatar.

Everything was silent and dark. It hadn't worked. And it was just her luck that it hadn't even managed to fail spectacularly enough to be useful either. Just enough to land her back into the torturous purgatory where she had started. With a new pounding in her head.

Something moved off to her side, a rustle of jeans and creak of a cushion, and she slid her eyes over to find Tony slumped into one of the chairs by the table. One arm was slung over the backrest, as though it was the only thing holding him up, and his lips were parted slightly as he panted. His usual blanket was conspicuously absent, and the worry drifted through the muddle of thoughts filling her addled brain that his fever had returned.

When he caught her eyes, his face twisted into a guilty frown. "I couldn't get you to a bed," he confessed, "I'm sorry. It was all I could do..."

She narrowed her eyes back at him, not sure if she had missed some part of his conversation, but when she went to shift, she found something was draped on top of her. The Terran's blanket. And underneath her head, the leather jacket had been folded up.

"I tried to drag a mattress over here," he continued, voice labored, "but, they don't come off."

Of course they didn't. Any space traveler would know that. They would be nothing but a hazard flying around in turbulence or if the gravity failed.

"Sorry," he murmured again.

He had tried.

That was more than she had ever received before. More than she had ever dared to ask or expect in her life.

She didn't thank him as she forced her heavy limbs, still buzzing as though there was too much electricity dancing through her circuits and wires, to hold her weight. She didn't thank him as she gathered the blanket and the jacket that didn't smell like anything but a sweaty dying Terran anymore. And she didn't thank him as she passed the items back to the man at the table.

Wordlessly, however, she tugged his arm from where it clung to the back of his chair and slipped it over her shoulder so she could pull him to his feet and steady him as they made their way back to the flight deck. Back to the stars which he so rarely left as of late.

Tony slumped gracelessly into the co-pilot's chair, and her arms felt strangely cold without their burden.

"What were you trying to do?" he grunted out when she tried to slip away before he noticed.

She paused and eyed him over her shoulder.

"You were trying to power the ship with your own body, weren't you?" He looked like he wanted to accuse her, but was too tired to force the emotion into his voice.

"Just the life support," she told him. If she'd thought power would have made any difference to the rotten engines -melted beyond repair by the batteries as their final parting gifts- she would have tried long ago.

The Terran stared at the floor for several painful heartbeats. When his eyes rose to meet her again, they were filled with a desperation that caught her off-guard.

"Please don't leave me," he whispered.

She didn't know what to say to that; she was going to die soon enough -but not really soon enough- and there was nothing she could do to help it? Or that he was the one who was leaving her, and there was nothing she could do about that either?

Neither of these facts would bring him any comfort, and he already knew them anyways, no matter how hard he played at blind optimism.

Her legs were growing tired standing there, unwilling to hold the weight of her body for much longer. Slowly she lowered herself down into the pilot's chair to relieve them. The heavy weight which had settled in her soul remained.

Slowly, probably making it painfully obvious that she was not entirely certain that she was doing it right- because, to be honest, she wasn't- she reached across the empty space between them, holding her empty palm up.

With a smile that was as much pained as it was grateful, Tony reached out to take it. His hand was only barely any warmer than the air around them, and papery with dehydration, but she thought, just maybe, the heaviness in her soul may have grown lighter as some of the tension faded from his shoulders, and just a touch of the sadness faded from his eyes.

-x-

"How many days has it been now?" Tony asked. His voice drifted up from where he lay on his back on the floor of the flight deck so he could stare up at the stars through reddened eyes that couldn't seem to stay open for long.

"Twenty one and a half standard cycles," she answered automatically from her perch on the Pilot's chair, curled up so that her feet weren't shoved in his armpit.

Tony had draped several of the blankets across the two foremost seats, claiming the resulting structure as a 'fort.' When Nebula had refused to surrender her spot to lay on the floor with him, she had been designated instead as a weight, holding up one corner of the flimsy structure which had been draped over her own seat. The sheet wrinkled underneath her when she shifted, so she tried not to move too much.

"Three weeks," he breathed. The upper half of his body stuck out from under the draped blanket, his arms folded behind his head. "I'm going to have plenty of shows to catch up on when I get back. Do you watch T.V?"

"No." She wasn't entirely sure what he was referring to, the translators made generic terms a little tricky at times, but no seemed like the obvious answer.

He made a noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh, but his lungs lacked the capacity to do it properly right now. "Ah, it's the best. Or the worst. I mean, most shows are just.. eh, and some are... well they're bad. But when you find a really good one... I love binge watching dramas when I'm confined to resting up in my room or something..." His voice faded in and out, like he was drifting off to sleep even as his mouth kept moving. "Sometimes, when I'm stuck on bed rest too long, Pepper helps me build a fort, and we watch them together. You wouldn't guess it, but she's the best at building forts. A world title holder, really."

His voice was barely a whisper now.

"She'd be such an amazing mom."

A frown tugged at her lips, but the Terran wouldn't be able to see it. It was just babbling now, anyways. It was hardly surprising when a soft snoring began to rise up from the floor, a faint wheeze to it as his lungs failed to draw in enough proper air to allow him to even rest in peace.

The snoring came to a sudden jarring halt as he woke again. His brain was probably panicking at the lack of oxygen, but waking would do no good, there was no where to escape.

"Space-Girl?"

His voice was small in the vast silence as he called out to her.

"I'm still here."

The panicked breathing slowed back down to a more natural, but still obviously labored pace.

"I had a dream," he murmured, his babbling recommencing after letting the silence linger for only a beat. Perhaps he was afraid that if he fell asleep, it would be for the last time. The thought had certainly crossed her mind once or twice as of late. "It was... right before all of... all of this. Before I left Earth..."

Another moment of silence followed by a shallow gasp as he drifted and startled awake again.

"I dreamed... dreamt? I think it's dreamt... I dreamed that Pepper and I, we had a kid."

One more pause, this one seemed intentional, but she allowed him to babble on without answering. She had no knowledge to offer on this subject anyways. Gamora might have had some wisdom to share. She, at least, had some memories of her own parents before they met their end at the hands of Thanos's army. But Gamora wasn't here. It was just her. And all she knew how to offer was silence, and the occasional assurance that she hadn't left yet.

"I thought maybe it was a sign... y'know? Like maybe... maybe it was time to settle down... start a different kind of life together... Just me an' Pepper... Living a life... we didn't have to share with the rest of the world."

I don't really have the kind of life you can bring a kid into, but I thought... maybe I could? Live that kind of life I mean. It never sounded like it was for me before but... with Pepper, it sounded so good."

She thought, maybe, it sounded like he was crying.

There was a loud sniffle, and he lifted an arm to wipe at his face.

"Maybe it's for the best," he heaved out, his hand still covering his eyes. "I couldn't even keep a damned teenager with superpowers alive. I would just ruin their life like I ruin the lives of everyone else I come across. I-" His voice hitched like he wanted to sob but his body refused to provide the necessary moisture for tears. "I would be a terrible father... I-"

With a frown she slipped one leg over the edge of her seat and swung it in a lazy arc at the emotional Terran below. She'd been aiming for his arm but missed and clipped him in the chin instead.

Still, it worked. He startled and yanked his hand from his face to grab the offending boot and stare at it with reddened, puffy eyes, as though he had forgotten she was there after all.

"Sorry," he breathed, returning his eyes to the window of stars above. "Things got a little too heavy there, huh?"

He settled her boot on the floor, but didn't let it go, and she didn't force it away. She had nowhere else to go, and besides, it saved him from calling out, and her from having to answer whenever he would drift awake between fitful dreams.

She was there.

That was all she had to give.

End

Chapter 12 Preview: "...Nebula raised one fist to her chest, then twisted her wrist to flash her open palm at the windshield. 'Alive.' One flash, and then she dropped it deliberately to her side. 'Just barely.'

Another frown, this one forming wrinkles in her brow that Nebula could see from across the distance. The next sign was a request to board.

Nebula snapped her arms up into a large X across her chest. 'Denied'..."

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Next chapter is rescue and the start of Earth, yay! It's been so dark lately, I'm excited to get back to some humor and warm fuzzy stuff! Counter pointed with more trauma, of course. Ah, I'm just so excited! It's about half-way done already, so hopefully it will be a quick update this time.

Someone asked, so I'm planning to continue on through their time on Earth and up to the final battle. There will be some changes to the final battle itself, but everything until then will be canon-compliant.

Thank you for reading! And a big thank you from the bottom of my heart for the comments, you are all so amazing and supportive!

-OMaM