A/N: So, to the guest who asked for this story to continue, I give you a second chapter! I'm afraid it's the last you'll see of this story, though, as I definitely don't have the material for a full multi-chapter fic about what comes after Infinity War. These are my headcanons, in any case, so I hope you enjoy them! I hope to be back with more stories for the Cap and MCU fandoms soon, from finishing my reposting of "The Light in the Shadows" to a Captain America!Steve and modern!Bucky zombie AU coming this fall, and a few one-shots in between. Thank you so much for reading!

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"FRIDAY, get a message to Rhodey. Tell him to meet me at the compound."

"Colonel Rhodes isn't at the compound, boss."

Tony paused, frowning at the rapidly approaching—very rapidly approaching—sight of Earth through the giant alien windshield of the vessel he and the cyborg had hot-wired. "What do you mean, he's not at the compound?"

"No heat signatures detected," FRIDAY elaborated in his earpiece. That, at least, hadn't been decimated by Thanos and his mystical, magical glove of doom.

"What about his transponder? We close enough to get a read?"

"The signal is weak, but it appears to be coming from Wakanda."

"Wakanda," Tony deadpanned. When he continued, it was with a slightly hysterical laugh, but he'd had a rough day. His AI would have to forgive him. "He's in Wakanda? What, did he take up rhino farming or something? Get him on the line."

"Sorry, boss—you're still too far out of range."

"Problem?" interjected the blueberry terminator. He would have taken offense to the condescension in her gaze when she glanced over at him from her own steering…whatever, if it weren't for the fact that they were careening towards earth at the kind of speeds that usually ended with something going splat. Without the control his suit offered him—without his suit, which was currently gathering alien dust on Titan—that was a distinct possibility.

Even so, Tony Stark was a man of pride and dignity. He had faced some of the deadliest foes the world had ever seen and come out on top, leaving a trail of their broken limbs and medical bills in his wake. He was a superhero, and he wasn't about to be intimidated by some intergalactic she…thing.

Maybe he didn't feel much like a superhero right now, but hey, appearances were everything.

Thanks for the lesson, Dad.

"Problem?" he scoffed, waving her off with his free hand. "There's no problem. No problem at all. Just taking a little detour to the east by a few degrees."

That apparently wasn't an impressive enough answer. The teen titan wannabe stared flatly at him as she observed, "A few degrees is a few thousand miles."

"Yeah, like I said—detour."

Either she had no idea what that meant or had no interest in explanations, because she didn't press the subject further. Tony was going to call that a win. Given how this week had gone… Well, suffice it to say that he desperately needed one of those.

To be honest, he was still coming to terms with what had happened. He'd been in space before; that whole Chitauri incident was fresh on his mind despite how many years had passed since then. Regardless, the last thing he'd expected was fighting a bunch of extraterrestrial psychopaths, stowing away aboard their freaky merry-go-round, and seeing every one of his few allies getting turned to dust. Ash. Microscopic organisms. Whatever. The point was that this hadn't been the plan—not even remotely.

What also hadn't been the plan was teaming up with the scary half-to-three-quarters-robot lady who was currently his ticket back to Earth. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much choice there: he needed to survey the damage, and she was the sole candidate for hijacking those fancy ships that Thanos had flown around on. It was a partnership of convenience at best, and it had worked out so far, although he could have done without the cycle of awkward silence and weighted barbs. They hadn't crashed, though, so he had to take what he could get.

Optimism was key here, especially when the vessel they'd gotten working was literally falling apart. It wasn't as bad as their last ride, which was in so many pieces that he was pretty sure it put Humpty Dumpty to shame, but this one wasn't much better. Half of it was missing; lucky for them, that was the half where the nonessentials were apparently stored, like food and soap and all those luxury items. The important part was that the engines were relatively intact and, unlike the ship they'd crash-landed on Titan, this one still had some glass between them and space.

The process of getting it airborne wasn't even worth discussing, but at least it had taken his mind off matters. So had steering it when it fought him at every turn and figuring out how it was supposed to get them home when it didn't exactly have the most reliable navigation system.

Bionic Barbie came in handy there.

For the most part, they hadn't said a word to each other, which suited him just fine. They had nothing in common besides loss at Thanos's hands—or hand. That was why he was down a spider-themed hero, a wizard, and a ship full of morons, wasn't it? Tall, dark, and purple had gotten what he wanted; he'd started his bid for destroying half the universe and leaving the other side alone, as if that was much of a comfort. From where Tony was standing (barely), it didn't sound like much of a blessing, but then again, the guy didn't seem too big on emotion. Sure, yeah, eliminate a sizable portion of the world: you'd save a ton of food and resources that never would have fed everyone, or if they could, then they would have been distributed to the upper crust while everybody at the bottom scrambled for scraps. What about the psychological cost, though? What about the guy that loses a girlfriend or the kid who ends up with no parents? What about the ragtag group of idiots he'd ostensibly befriended on Titan and whoever knew or gave a damn about them?

What about Aunt May, who was going to spend the rest of her life wondering what had happened to the nephew who never came home from his field trip?

And that wasn't even the worst of it, as if that wasn't bad enough.

If they were going to fix this somehow, then they needed all hands on deck—all the Avengers, whether they were still sore at each other or not. That was why he'd planned on heading straight to the compound: from there, he could contact whoever he could find, and they would send the word around. The phone Cap had given him was lying somewhere in the sewers of New York by now, so that wasn't going to be of much help. There were others, though, that he would be able to locate.

That was what he had to count on, anyway. Thanos had all the stones, which meant it wouldn't be as simple as telling Vision to get his synthetic ass stateside. Nope, they'd have to do this the old-fashioned way, preferably once he had another suit to slip into and Clint's address wherever it was he had to hunker down with his new government-issued bracelet. If he didn't know or wouldn't say where the others were, then he'd track down that ant guy. If he didn't know…

But he was getting ahead of himself. The worst part wasn't the billions of people around the world and presumably more from around the universe who would be grieving their enemy getting his hands on all the infinity stones—the worst part was not knowing how many of the Avengers would be left when he made it back.

The fact that Rhodey's transponder was still on and, for some reason, pointing them in the most unexpected direction imaginable was a good sign. It meant he was mobile, unless someone had stolen his suit, which was impossible with the tech he'd installed in it. The rest were a mystery, one that Tony intended to decipher sooner rather than later. Yeah, they needed all hands on deck, but they had to assess just how many hands that was going to amount to.

Not having enough wasn't an option. Not having enough simply meant they were going to be doing a hell of a lot of recruiting before they were ready to meet the big nasty on his own turf.

Wherever that was, since he hadn't been on Titan when they'd left.

That they knew of.

This whole illusions thing was really starting to throw him off.

He'd ponder it later. Right now, he had bigger fish to fry, like the ones they were going to squish if they didn't set this baby down in just the right spot.

"You do know how to land this thing, right?" he asked skeptically, glancing askance at his copilot. He was going to assume from the disdainful glare she shot him that yeah, she had some idea.

That was good, because he was still trying to wrap his mind around how this thing worked. It operated a bit like his suit, only instead of repulsors that he could control by compensating on either side, it had enormous engines straight out of Star Trek. Don't get him wrong: Tony had nothing against that retro, sixties tech. It merely left a lot to be desired when it came to handling.

It did the trick, though. Between FRIDAY's directions and Inspector Gadget over there, the ship was neck deep in good old Wakandan mud in no time. Now it was just a matter of finding Rhodey, figuring out what the hell he was even doing in Wakanda to begin with, formulating a plan that would put Thanos on the defensive rather than the alternative, and bringing half the universe back to life.

No pressure.

Really, no pressure. None at all.

Until they stepped outside, that was.

"We come in peace," he announced as flippantly as he could when there were too many weapons aimed at him for comfort. Needless to say, it wasn't very.

Luckily for him, FRIDAY had been right on the money—Rhodey was here. Along with a few dozen people with spears, but Tony was trying to ignore them for now. It was one step in the right direction, anyway.

"Where the hell have you been?" Rhodey demanded without preamble, the rocket launchers on his epaulettes kindly deactivating when he lowered his repulsor from where it had been leveled a bit too accurately at Tony's face.

Lifting an eyebrow, he retorted, "You know, I would ask you the same question, only here we are. Next time, you could leave a note or something. Just so I don't sit up waiting for you."

Rhodey's eyebrows practically flew up to his hairline as he shot back, "Oh, you wanna talk about waiting? Who was it that decided it was a good idea to hop on board a spa—"

"That was a spur of the moment thing!"

"—ceship and leave the rest of us here to fight Thanos, huh?"

Well, that brought him up short. Tony's mouth went dry as his eyes darted around the congregation, truly taking it all in for the first time. Since he'd never been to Wakanda before, he didn't exactly have anything to compare it to, but he got the distinct impression that they didn't always look so uptight. The group before him was obviously comprised of warriors, probably T'Challa's if he was reading the solid gold ornamentation right, and their eyes were blazing with both suspicion and something that appeared disconcertingly similar to grief. And that wasn't all: they'd definitely been through the wringer. Their clothes and armor (if that was what they were calling it) was askew; there was stuff on the edges of their blades that he didn't want to identify. Every single one of them looked exhausted enough to fall over, yet they stood tall in the face of this guy who'd suddenly plummeted to earth in the same vessel their enemies used.

That might have been one of his less enlightened ideas. Good thing it was actually the iron not-so-giant's.

All of a sudden, Tony's skin was beginning to crawl beneath their scrutiny in a way he hadn't felt since he was at MIT. In fact, even that had been easier. Defending his dissertation had been a breeze when nobody could come up with a valid argument against it, but this? They were staring at him as though he was going to grow a giant purple head and tell them that he was about to murder the ones on the left. Of course, that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard—or one of them. For starters, he wasn't a raving lunatic, just raving. For another…

He knew the guys on the left, from the petite now-blonde Romanoff to the strapping figure he hadn't seen since they were trying to kill each other in Siberia.

Since I tried to kill him, he reminded himself reluctantly. As much as he didn't want to recall that particular detail, they'd been on the outs long enough that he couldn't very well avoid it. Not if they were going to get the job done.

Not if they were going to be Avengers again.

At that, Tony tore his gaze away from his less than spangly former coworker and that god-awful beard to focus on Rhodey when he solemnly asked the one question he already knew he wasn't going to like the answer to: "Who'd we lose?"

"Vision," he replied immediately, not that it was much of a surprise. Thanos wouldn't have been able to do what he had to those idiots and the wizard without all the stones, which means he'd gotten his hands on the one in Vision's head as well. It stung regardless, but Tony had prepared himself for it during the journey from Titan. He'd live, unlike some.

No, it was the rest that cut him deep, and he didn't think it had anything to do with the fact that Romanoff was the one delivering the bad news in her typical badass drawl.

"Wanda, T'Challa, Sam," she listed in what would have been a dispassionate tone if he hadn't known her for nearly ten years. It was subtle, that tremor that spoke volumes of the grief she'd never allow herself to vocalize—it was there, though. With each successive name, from royalty to merely the royal pains in the ass, her dull monotone screamed the same thing Tony was feeling.

They were gone. They were all gone.

Maybe he should have felt a bittersweet twinge of satisfaction when what remained of the Avengers looked to Cap so that he could swallow hard and murmur, "Bucky." Maybe he should have been glad that justice had been delivered to his parents' murderer, albeit not in quite the manner Tony would have preferred. Maybe he should have made a sarcastic remark about it and reveled in the notion that Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, had lost their civil war.

But he didn't do any of that, because ultimately, those feelings were gone. Well, not completely: there was a pang of something at the sound of Barnes's name, something angry yet tired. Something he'd put to rest in the wake of his battle with Cap, accepting that there was nothing he could do to change what had happened and that the people truly responsible were already dead. Sure, there would always be a part of him that blamed Barnes; it was hard not to when he'd been the one to pull the proverbial trigger. He wasn't the enemy, however. He hadn't been the enemy then, and he wasn't the enemy now.

Telling himself that, repeating it like a mantra in his head and making a mental note to have FRIDAY program it into his calming techniques, was the sole reason why he was able to look Cap in the face. It was the only thing that had him moving forward, slowly so as not to piss off the twitchy soldiers that eyed his every move, and approaching his former friend for the first time in far too long. It was how he managed to grit his teeth, swallow his pride, and nod in common grief.

"You know, after everything you pulled for Barnes," he began, his words somewhat stilted and his jaw tense, "talk about a dick move, taking him away like that."

Apparently, Cap hadn't been anticipating that he would take the high road. That made two of them, because Tony certainly hadn't meant to.

"Yeah, it was," he replied in a voice laden with an odd mixture of surprise, anguish, and hope. Tony hadn't thought that would be possible, but if anyone could do it, Steve Rogers was the guy. He made the stereotype of looking like a lost puppy into reality, so it shouldn't have been shocking.

He was also aiming that look straight at Tony, which wasn't going to cut it. Not at all. This wasn't the time for some big sappy reunion—it was a time for action. For revenge.

And shaving, but they'd cross that bridge when they had a free minute for Tony to point out that facial hair definitely wasn't Captain America's forte.

For now, he simply clapped his hands together and nodded resolutely. "All right. Guess that settles it. Let's kick some names and take some ass."

As always, Cap was too polite to ask what the hell he was talking about, but Rhodey had no qualms about it. Rather than explain the nuances of the shitstorm they were currently stuck in, however, Tony merely brushed him off with a dismissive, "Don't ask."

That, too, could wait until later.

"Let me make sure I understand this. You are telling me that this Thanos took my brother and the White Wolf…but left M'Baku?" the princess of Wakanda scoffed, glaring at all of them as if they were playing some prank.

It was funny: when they'd entered the palace and found her standing there to greet them, Tony had been under the impression that she would be the most mature kid on the planet. With a brother like hers, it was impossible not to be. T'Challa was a great guy and all, but he had a stick up his ass the size of his bodyguards' spears, so it hadn't occurred to him that his younger sister would be any different.

So far, he was pleasantly surprised.

The big guy who simultaneously doubled as a small mountain—presumably M'Baku—didn't seem as entertained.

"I will not take offense to that," he ground out, and for a second, it looked like he was going to follow through on that. His shoulders were straight despite the raccoon sitting on one of them, and his expression was utterly unflappable.

Until the furball prodded, "You sure? That was pretty cold, right there."

"Yes," M'Baku muttered with a twitch that belied his otherwise impassive exterior. "Yes, it was."

"This isn't over," Cap interjected before they could tread too far down the path of Wakandan tribal relations. He'd apparently recovered from the initial shock of their losses, because he was same steady presence as always when he assured the princess, "We're taking the fight to him, and we'll bring them back. All we need is a plan."

"And some intergalactic wheels," added Tony, "which I've got covered."

Had Thanos installed some sort of laser into his erstwhile daughter's head, or was her glare just that powerful?

"Correction: our new automaton has it covered," he amended with a shrug in her direction. It did little to appease her, but at least he didn't feel like he was about to spontaneously combust anymore. That would have been awkward.

Even more awkward was the sight of Romanoff and Banner in the same room, not that the two of them seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Unlike the last time he'd seen them together, there weren't any mushy smiles or googly eyes, which could only be a good thing. In fact, he was almost positive of that when Romanoff folded her arms over her chest in a characteristic show of skepticism and asked, "So, what, we just fly into space and hope we find the right planet?"

"With the gauntlet and all the infinity stones, Thanos could be anywhere," their resident droid agreed immediately. Banner, unfortunately, went right along with them.

"It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack, only the haystack's the size of the universe."

"Well, we're open to suggestions here," Tony cut them off before anyone else could point out how difficult this was going to be. He might have been the king of denial, but he wasn't stupid: that part was always a given. They could max out every server in the world with reasons why this was impossible—what they needed was something that made it work.

And, apparently, a teenager.

"I can help you there," the littlest Wakandan reassured them, turning towards the desk-slash-display she'd been examining when they came in. "All we need to do is make the haystack smaller."

Quirking an eyebrow at Rhodey, who simply shrugged in equal confusion, Tony ventured, "And you know how to do that?"

In true adolescent fashion, she leveled him with a smirk so smug that he would have believed he was staring into a mirror if it weren't for the obvious differences between them. Had he and Pepper been considering having kids? They had, hadn't they? Suddenly, Tony was having second thoughts. They'd have to discuss it if the two of them made it through this in one piece.

Because as entertaining as it was, he wasn't so sure he would be able to handle it if his own child told him, "A five-year-old could do it," when he certainly couldn't.

I don't know if I like this kid or hate her.

The jury was definitely out on that one, and no amount of super tech or advanced triangulation was going to change that. It didn't matter that she had one of the most sophisticated setups he'd ever seen, complete with a three-dimensional display that allowed her to manipulate her own inventions remotely from an entire world—or, in this case, multiple worlds—away. It didn't matter that she had red dots popping up all over a map of their galaxy in seconds. It didn't matter that she was able to point to two of them that weren't anywhere near their galaxy and say with utter surety, "There."

She was still annoying. That was all that mattered.

But it would have been poor manners to tell her that outright, so Tony contented himself with squinting at the display and wondering, "You LoJack all your friends or just the special ones?"

"My designs are the best in the world," she retorted, shrugging his sarcasm off. "It would be stupid not to."

"Second best, but who's counting?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she laughed incredulously. "I'mma let you finish, but Wakandan technology is the best technology of all time."

…Excuse me?

It wasn't often that someone could steal the words right out of his head, but somehow, she'd managed it. Tony opened his mouth, realized he had nothing to say, closed it—lather, rinse, repeat. It took a few tries before he finally put together a response, and even then, it wasn't to the snarky little shit standing beside him examining her handiwork as though she hadn't just—

"Did she just Kanye me?" he demanded of the room at large. "I think she just Kanye'd me."

"Can we get back to the subject here?" Cap sighed pointedly, to which Tony wagged a finger in disapproval.

"This is extremely important. Not that you'd know that, because you were still a Capsicle at the ti—"

"Did you find something?" he continued, sidestepping Tony entirely to stand beside the apparent new leader of their team.

I'm wounded.

Her Highness nodded, the humor draining from her expression as she pointed towards the same two dots as before. "The readings are unstable, but if they were gone, I wouldn't be getting any at all."

"So, they're out there somewhere," Bruce murmured with a relieved nod.

"Yes. It is just a matter of where."

Romanoff frowned. "I thought you said…?"

"It is not that simple," the princess clarified, shaking her head in mingled disappointment and frustration. Tony could honestly say he knew the feeling. "The tracking devices in T'Challa's suit and Sergeant Barnes's arm indicate that they are in that vicinity… The problem is that there is nothing there. There are no planets, not even any meteors."

"Is it possible that it's just too far away?" inquired Cap, his desperation shining through a bit. She must have recognized it too, because when she answered in the negative, it was with a level of remorse she definitely hadn't shown when she'd insulted the Stark tech that the rest of the world gawked at.

"All of my calculations are accurate. They may be there, but nothing else is."

"Great. So, it's another dead end," muttered Rhodey.

Cap, on the other hand, wasn't ready to give up the ghost just yet. What a shock.

"No," he replied firmly. His eyes were locked on the screen, boring into those two dots as if his life depended on them. "It's a place to start. Gear up. We've got a few stops to make before we leave."

"Stops? What stops?" Banner asked, glancing between Cap and Tony like the latter had any idea what was going through the former's head. Spoiler alert: he didn't.

Well, he thought he did, but there was no telling with this guy sometimes.

Fortunately, he was pretty on point in this instance. Cap barely made it to the neat, swirling ramp that would take them back to the palace when he glanced over his shoulder with a gleam in his eyes that was just so Steve Rogers.

"You can't fight a war without an army."