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Chapter Text

Loki fell.

Pale-faced and unbreathing, his body hurled to his brother’s feet. They had been through this before: a lifetime ago (and yet, only a few scant years) Thor had clutched his shoulders as the blood drained from his face. He had died twice an enemy, thrice an ally, but always a brother. The truth only ever seemed to come in those dying moments: in falling from the rainbow bridge or bleeding from the gut. That was what it took for them to show their love.

Only, he hadn’t died. He’d survived the gaping chasm of space, survived a blade through the stomach. He’d even survived torture at Thanos’s hands.

He certainly wasn’t about to die now.

But his death was necessary in the moment, to let his brother go free. In the interest of balance, no doubt - it would tip the scales, to leave both Odinsons alive.

He wouldn’t return to Thor outright. It was better, he realized, to seek out allies elsewhere, to regroup, perchance to find another stone. A mere whisper of seidr at the right point in space and he could slip seamlessly between realms until he found one or the other.

He was lucky; he found both.

“How many where we won?”

“One.”

It might have ended there. In another universe, or a million other universes, they might have settled with the uneasy knowledge that their odds were worse than fourteen-million to one.

“I hate to interrupt,” A calm, silken voice cut in, “But has it occurred to you yet that you have no idea of how to use that?”

“Oh, hell no - ”

The fractured ensemble of Avengers reacted in a completely predictable way: a repulsor beam seared the spot where Loki would have been, if he were a complete idiot - the same way that he would have been strangled by Thanos hours earlier, if he were a complete idiot. Instead, the illusion standing in his stead dissipated, and the motley group whirled around in place, searching for its creator.

“Save your strength,” Loki said, from two places and then a third. “I come in peace.”

The mortals didn’t lower their weapons, and three (then four) illusions raised their hands in mock surrender.

“We have a common enemy. And I hope you realize, warlock, that there are far more than a paltry fourteen million versions of this conflict. For example - did you see any that involved me?”

Chapter Text

“He’s strong!” Time seemed to move more slowly then, with Mantis perched atop the Titan’s shoulders. Strange had seen over a million ways for this to end, all of them grim, and none entirely satisfying.

“I can’t - hold him much longer!”

“We’ve almost,” The spider-kid winced, straining against the gauntlet, “Almost got it off!”

Three grown men - well, alright, two grown and an able child - could hardly yank the weapon free, even with its wielder immobilized. It made Strange wonder if the holder’s will had something to do with its connection, or if it was the type of soulbound item that he could summon back to himself.

That thought hadn’t crossed his mind before, in any of the fourteen million universes. It was different, being in the moment, than simulating the future again and again.

For the second time, but with a stunning certainty, he knew what he had to do.

“Hold him steady,” He ordered, a second passing before he let the magic binding Thanos break free. A risk, but a necessary one, as he focused instead on splitting open space itself before the Titan’s fist. The portal hummed with energy, magic whirling in a searing circle around it.

“Forget the gauntlet!” He shouted above the din, “Stark! Pull him through!”

A brutal tug of war ensued. But it was easier to pull Thanos in a single direction than to wrench the gauntlet off his hand. Strange waited only until Stark had gotten his own body fully through the portal to snap it shut on the Titan’s arm.

Thanos screamed, hurling himself backwards as his arm was cleaved off through the bone. Mantis was thrown off of his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sudden, blinding pain, and toppled to the planet’s dusty ground.

Thanos was free - Thanos was angry - but Thanos could not call the gauntlet back to a hand he no longer had.

It wasn’t a fair fight after that.

But then, in a million other universes, it would have much worse.

Chapter Text

He thought he’d be able to rest. That when all was said and done - when all his work was done - he could sit back, and watch the sun set, and be content with his good deeds.

But he was not content. He wasn’t near content, and the sun wasn’t setting so much as bleeding out into the sky.

(What did it cost?

Everything.)

When all was said and done, he had nothing - no purpose, no love, and no peace. No allies beside those too terrified to contradict him (and of those allies, no use for them anymore, anyway).

There had to be a better way.

He cast his gaze away from the setting sun to stare down at his battered gauntlet. The time stone seemed to wink up at him in the light.

There had to be a better way.

And he would find it.

Universe 14,006,006

“You did well, child.” He pat the witch’s head, her hair like silk beneath his fingertips, her gaze reflecting more resignation than horror. The expression was familiar in more ways than one. He wondered if Gamora had seen it in his own face before she died.

He brought Vision back into being, body, soul, and stone conjured back up from a bit of dust. Just as easily, he pried the stone from his forehead.

The gauntlet hummed with power when it was complete. It called to him again - with the slightest gesture, with just a snap, his life’s mission would be fully realized. It had been, before. He had seen it.

The rest of Earth’s so-called heroes were frozen - first in shock, and then by a mere flexing of his fingers, the mind stone holding them in place.

He knelt slowly and lifted the witch’s chin.

“You made an admirable choice,” He said to her, because it’s what he would have wanted to hear. It didn’t seem to have the right effect, judging by the tears slipping wordlessly down her cheeks, but he didn’t linger on the thought. There was work to be done.

“I thought that I could do the same.”

There was no movement among the humans, but something had certainly changed. The mind stone, still pinning them like butterflies, caught uncertainty peeking through the overwhelming climate of outrage and fear.

“You, witch,” He said, releasing her with a twitch of his finger. She was the only one with powers rivaling that of at least a single stone and, therefore, the only one who might have any possible perspective on the matter, as far as Thanos was concerned. “This universe is dying, and you fought to thwart its only chance at survival. Why?”

At first, it seemed she might not speak. But he watched grief turn to anger in her gaze, and finally the witch rose to her feet.

“You think this was the only way?” She spat, “That you were the only hope?!”

There was nothing quite as tiresome as this argument, but he hadn’t turned back time to make the same decisions again. Knowledge that his mission had been completed once granted him a newfound patience - where he never before had had the luxury to sit back and see this debate through to its conclusion, now he could finally spare the time.

Silently, he lended the self-styled ‘heroes’ back their ears, and voices. And then he spoke again.

“Your planet’s - every planet’s resources are finite,” He explained, as if to a child. It was not the first time he had explained this to children, after all. “What else would you have me do?”

“What else - how about not killing everyone, asshole?” Another member of their company cut in - a minuscule, furry creature with its paws still frozen around a gun.

He silenced that one again. He was looking for solutions, not insults.

“He’s right,” The witch cut in, hands outstretched defensively (as if that would accomplish anything) and already stepping back from Thanos as he turned to face her. “You have the gauntlet - you can do anything. Why kill?”

They weren’t getting anywhere. He felt his own frustration mounting.

“Even the infinity gauntlet cannot create something from nothing.” He explained, through gritted teeth.

“Then what about something from something else?”

He turned slowly, finding the Captain’s battered form. The witch froze again as he shifted his gaze from her, and his new focus was given back control over his limbs. The Captain stood tall and resolute - as if he hardly noticed how Thanos towered over him.

“What about the planets that are already lifeless?” The Captain asked.

“What about matter not already devoted to valuable resources?” Another added, his panther-helmet retracting as Thanos’s attention landed on him.

Afraid or not, the humans met his eyes. Their conviction was enough to unbalance him, a little.

“It isn’t,” that simple, he almost said, feeling dissension well up in his gut.

It couldn’t be. He hadn’t considered an alternative because there were no alternatives.

If there had been, he would have known - he must have known!

“I didn’t…” He started.

“I’m sure you tried your best.” The witch said, without a hint of irony.

He could have raged against it. He could have snapped. Comforted by the thought that there was no other way, he had done both of those things, the last time that they’d met.

“It would… take time.” He said, sounding bewildered. It was… possible, wasn’t it? It sounded possible.

How had no one ever told him this before?

Had anyone tried to tell him this before?

Had he given them the chance?

“It requires - ….” He hedged, staring, lost. “It would require more attention.”

Rebuilding a thing was more difficult than summarily destroying it. And painstakingly reforming and reallocating resources would take a hundred, perhaps a thousand years longer than snapping his fingers to make them ample.

People would suffer. In the time it would take to complete his mission, people would die.

Probably fewer than would have to die from the snap, though.

“I didn’t… know…” He said slowly. Unsure.

“That’s alright,” The blonde human stepped forward, an assassin by any other name, but she bore no weapons as she approached Thanos. It was almost as if she was accustomed to addressing someone of his stature - or to calming them down.

“But before you do,” She said, evenly and without accusation, “Don’t you have something to fix here?”

Chapter Text

“No. This isn’t love.”

He couldn’t afford to hesitate. His daughter screamed when he seized her, her struggle meaningless against his strength, and it was if his heart had ripped itself apart when he cast her over the cliff.

This isn’t love.

It was all Thanos could do to remain on his feet - to remain steadfast - to maintain his indomitable will. He would survive her loss. He had a higher goal.

He waited silently for the soul stone to manifest. Seconds turned to minutes, until he found himself unsure of the passage of time. He peered over the cliff’s edge, grief striking a second time as he saw Gamora’s body.

This isn’t love.

He waited.

This isn’t love.

He waited.

This isn’t love.

The stone never came to be. When he turned, outrage roiling in his chest, mind burning for answers, the Red Skull had disappeared.

He had given everything - he had done everything -

No. She told him.

This isn’t love.

He was grieving. He felt loss. He had lost the only thing he had every wanted to keep. How could that be anything but love?

(The only thing.)

This isn’t love.

Chapter Text

To...

Madam Death, I am writing to request
that you kindly take into consideration
an extension of my liability to
the institution headed by you
for so many centuries.

 He snapped his fingers, and a trillion worlds shattered.

Mothers clutched their children as they turned to ash. Lovers fell to pieces in each others' arms. They died for no crude worldly agenda and without prejudice: men and women. The old and the young. The rich and the poor. The powerful and the powerless.

It was exactly what he wanted. What he needed. What the universe required. And in that final moment, Thanos was more certain than ever of his mission.

He watched half of all living beings die at his behest, and found his faith unshaken.

Until the gauntlet slipped off of his fingers.

He glanced down, bewildered, grasping for the gleaming edges of the metal with a hand crumbling rapidly into dust. The gauntlet landed in the grass, a gust of wind swept his legs out from underneath him and, when he landed, his body fell entirely to pieces over and around the shining stones.

There was no pain.

You, Madam,
are a master, a violent sport
a delicate ax, the pope, velvet lips,
scissors. I don’t flatter you. I beg.

It had never occurred to him, somehow, that he might be among the trillions. With six infinity stones, he was the master of fate, not subject to it. But he had not been so arrogant as to think himself immune to Death, of course - that was part of her appeal.

No one was immune. None were above her.

And so, when awareness returned to him again, he looked for her. He had done her bidding, after all, and had granted her most sacred wish. If he had met his end, it was only to meet her again. He had not faced Death, but been summoned by her.

“Oh.”

He turned hastily to face her, feeling younger, frailer, bare. An effect only one woman had ever had on him.

“It’s you again.”

Something wasn’t right. She looked... less than content, lips pursed, chin tilted. She looked profoundly unimpressed.

“Didn’t it occur to you not to leave the stones on Earth?”

He stepped forward. She swept back.

“I don’t understand - ”

“Ugh. They’ve already undone it.” She sighed. “All of that hard work.”

She shook her head.

He stared, agape.

“Try again. ” She ordered. “Don’t disappoint me this time.”

Death snapped her fingers.

She sent him away.

Chapter Text

“Woah, woah, woah, time out!”

The order came so abruptly that everyone actually stopped - Strange paused, glancing away from a half-opened interdimensional portal. Peter tumbled to the ground in front of it, mid-leap. Quill lowered his weapon skeptically.

Thanos stopped pulling at the semi-intelligent cloak wound tightly around his hand and wrist.

Tony cleared his throat.

“Back up, Raisinet. Did you just say you were doing this for good? You’re trying to - what - end all life for good?”

Silence fell over Titan’s dusty landscape. Stark waited, expecting an actual answer.

“Half,” Thanos grumbled, as if the mistake offended him.

“Right. Half of all life. That’s different, thanks. That’s really different. That helps.” He glanced at his nearest ally - Stephen Strange.

‘Can you believe this guy?’ The look seemed to say.

‘Nope. Sounds like an absolute lunatic to me.’ Strange’s wordless shrug answered.

“Alright, I have a question.” Stark said, formally raising his hand. “Is that OK, guy-who-wants-to-destroy-HALF-of-all-life-on-earth? Mind if I ask a question before you blow us all away?”

The look on Thanos’s face seemed to indicate that, yes, he absolutely did mind. Tony did not appear to care.

“What good could that possibly do? What’s good about this plan to you? Go ahead, tell us! I really want to know.”

“The well-being of the universe does not revolve around your planet alone, Stark. Do you know where we’re standing?”

“I don’t know, some shitty dustbowl?” Quill cut in, waving his gun in definite violation of standard firearm safety protocols. “Does it look like we give a shit about your tragic backstory?”

Thanos tugged at Strange’s cloak again. It held firm for the time being.

“Just as my planet fell to overpopulation, so will the rest of the universe - it’s happening on your own Earth, as we speak! Children starve before they can ever come of age, mothers - ”

“What? ” Tony flipped his helmet up for the sole and exclusive purpose of staring incredulously at the Mad Titan. “Are you kidding me? So - wait, let me get this straight - people are suffering, you want to fix that, so your plan is to kill them all?”

“Yeah, uh, that plan doesn’t really sound like it makes any sense.” Peter finally piped up, “You’re trying to make things better, but you can only do that by making them, like, a million times worse?"

"Why don’t you just grow more food?” Mantis asked, looking less offended than perplexed.

“That’s not - this isn’t - ” In a moment of almighty frustration, Thanos broke free of the cloak. “This is not a debate!”

It all went to hell from there.

“Wait, wait, wait! Everyone!”

Shuri, armed with only a single blasting gauntlet and sheer, unbridled determination, made her way through the brush.

Steve, locked in a life-or-death struggle with both hands wrapped tightly around Thanos’s gauntlet, paused as he felt the Titan do the same.

He could have sworn he heard him mutter, under his breath, “Why does this keep happening today?”

As sternly as she possibly could, Shuri met eyes with Thanos.

“I came out of the ocean because you need to stop.”

No one appreciated the joke, but her brother dragged a paw-like glove over his covered face.

“Do you seriously think you’re doing the right thing here?”

Thanos remained silent. Shuri addressed the remainder of the crowd.

“Has no one explained to this man that he isn’t doing the right thing?”

Crickets chirped. A gust of wind ruffled Natasha's unfortunate dye job. In the distance, armies continued to clash.

“Oh my god.” Shuri groaned. “Overpopulation isn’t destroying planets. It never was.”

“None of you understand - ” Thanos began.

“I understand plenty! For example, do you realize that most arguments about killing to prevent ‘dangerous overpopulation’ are actually rooted in racism?”

“What? No! This is entirely apolitical, that’s the beauty of random genocide!”

“Random genocide? Do you even hear the words that come out of your mouth when you speak?”

“I - What? Yes!” Thanos stammered, looking increasingly flustered.

“We have all of the resources we need, genius.” Somehow, in her tone, ‘genius’ came out sounding like ‘idiot’. “The problem is that some people are hoarding them from the rest. Which will still be a problem if you kill half of us.”

“Actually, uh,” Bruce Banner, still trapped within a mech suit which was, in turn, trapped within a mountain, began, “She’s right. You know, there was a study done back in 2012 - we produce at least enough food to feed ten billion people, but the Earth’s population is only up to about seven and a half...”

Thanos stared, dumbstruck. He glanced at Steve, who was now more gently cupping his hand than fighting him back, for confirmation.

“Yeah... that’s pretty much it.” Steve shrugged, looking sheepish.

“But - how could you allow this? You, earth’s so-called heroes? What could possibly prevent you from resolving this travesty?”

“Bureaucratic red tape?” Natasha proposed.

“Poor coordination?” Bruce offered.

“Capitalism?” Shuri suggested.

“But you... so then...”

Thanos extracted his enormous hand from Steve’s grasp and cradled his own head with the gauntlet.

“I have a lot to think about,” He said, and vanished.

Chapter Text

Rather than splitting up immediately into far off corners of the universe, the Avengers used their wide array of resources (ranging from interdimensional portals to actual spaceships) to regroup briefly as a single unit, and they were already off to a rocky start. Among themselves, the group had custody of two infinity stones, and knowledge of the general locations of the other four.

It had become immediately apparent to several of the heroes that the most viable way to thwart Thanos’s plans might simply be to destroy one of the stones in their possession.

“Why are we even arguing about this?” Quill demanded, drawing the ire of several members of the group. “I don’t think any of you are getting how bad this could be for the whole universe.”

“We can’t!” Wanda said, “The mind stone is a part of Vision, taking it would kill him.”

“What about the time stone?” Gamora interrupted, sparing a knowing glance at Vision as he’d looked prepared to speak against his own defense.

“I’ve protected it with a powerful enchantment - there’s no call to destroy such an artifact if we can defend it.” Dr. Strange said.

“Uh, does anyone else here not want to hinge the fate of the universe on an ‘if’?” Tony asked.

“The time stone is safe with me,” Strange insisted.

“I still don’t see why we’re letting the robot off scot-free,” Rocket muttered, nudging Drax’s leg.

“Okay, this isn’t getting us anywhere.” Steve cut in sternly, “First thing’s first - we don’t trade lives.”

“I’m sorry, Steve, but you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Out of every man, woman, and tree crammed into the room, the last one Steve expected to contradict him had spoken up. Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, vibranium gleaming in the light.

“Buck - ”

“You’ve always been the first one to try to trade.”

“That doesn’t mean - ”

“Last I heard, you flew yourself into the ocean to do exactly that.”

“Yeah, seriously, this from Mr. ‘lay down on the wire?’” Tony interrupted, “Making sacrifices is what we do. Isn't it, Cap?”

“Mr. Stark, that’s what I’ve been trying to - ”

“Okay, no, the grown-ups are talking. You have to be this tall to - ” Tony raised a hand several inches above Peter’s head, and glanced towards the remainder of the group in time to see Steve’s judging gaze.

“Self-sacrifices aren’t the problem, Tony.” Bruce spoke up softly, “No one in this room wants to lose a friend.”

It was quiet for a moment as the weight of those words sunk in. All things considered, each of the gathered heroes had been willing to lay down their lives or place themselves in the path of danger before, whether for the fate of the world or for their allies.

And yet, that instinct came from wanting, more than anything, not to see their loved ones be hurt.

“If the time comes,” Thor broke the silence, “As King of Asgard, it is my duty to live and die in defense of the nine realms.”

“Like I said,” Gamora began, casting Peter a meaningful look. He reached for her hand and, under the circumstances, she didn’t lean away. “It would be an honor to die among my friends.”

“The safety of the infinity stones is my only priority,” Dr. Strange spoke, clearing his throat against the uncomfortable sentimentality in the room, “But... it would be a weight lifted if I knew that you understood what that could entail.”

A heavy silence fell over the group. Finally, Steve sighed, shoulders physically falling as he resigned himself to the consensus.

“Last chance to turn around.” He said, casting his gaze on each of the heroes in turn, “No one will judge you if you aren’t prepared to take this on.”

His eyes lingered on Peter. The teenager stood up straighter.

“Not him.” Gamora’s tear-filled eyes met his and Quill’s heart leapt into his throat.

“You - you should have gone right.”

“Peter, you promised.”

When he pulled the trigger, it didn’t make a difference. But it was a sacrifice he had been prepared to make.

Thanos clenched his fist and Nebula screamed, stretched nearly to the breaking point, her cybernetics wrenched apart from skin. Gamora clenched her jaw and bowed her head, hurting, listening, thinking only of her sister. Nebula, who had asked her to come along. Nebula, who may have achieved her goal if she hadn’t taken Thanos on alone. Nebula, who might have ended this war before it started, if they’d fought together one more time. If she had only gone with her when she had the chance.

Nebula, who, after all they’d been through, would have rather died than give their father what he wanted.

Self-sacrifices aren’t the problem.

Gamora drew in a steady breath.

“Stop!” Her entreating tone and hand on Thanos’s arm was enough to make him pause - she had always been his favorite. Did her sister see that even now?

“All she ever wanted was a sister,” She murmured, nails digging into unyielding flesh. They couldn’t draw blood; her father barely seemed to notice.

Nebula wouldn’t have wanted this. She wouldn’t have wanted to be an instrument in Thanos's plans again.

All she’d ever wanted was an ally. All she’d ever wanted was for Gamora to fight with her, not against her.

“I won’t tell you anything,” She hissed, fury overtaking grief. “I won’t let you use her as a pawn - my sister is more than just a pawn!”

Thanos clenched his fist and Nebula screamed again. Tears pricked at Gamora’s eyes.

He let up. Nebula just hung there, suspended limply in the air.

“Your sister.” Thanos echoed, and set a finger under her chin. Gamora lifted her head to meet his eyes. “You would let your sister die?”

“She would rather die than help a monster.” Gamora spat.

Thanos paused - the only outward sign of his surprise. In that moment, Gamora pulled away from his side.

“I love you,” She said tearfully, cupping her hand against Nebula’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Nebula rasped, and met her eyes with a kind of burning determination that she hoped she could emulate.

She held her sister even as her eyes went fully blank. Her father thought, falsely, that it might weaken her resolve.

“He’ll be coming to Earth next,” Strange warned them, his head peeking through a portal to Wakanda. “He thinks he grounded us here.”

Across the dusty field, Peter clung to Tony’s fallen form, sobbing uncontrollably as the Guardians kept their distance.

“We have the time stone.” He said, voice shaking. “Wanda - if Thanos takes the mind stone, I may not be able to resist him.”

Strange shook his head and stared pleadingly through the portal.

“You know what you have to do.”

One precise gesture later and the portal spiralled shut, leaving nothing but a smell like cinders in the air.

“Mr. Stark,” The whimper was enough to make even Strange flinch, even the man who had told them all, so assuredly, that he would let any of them die for the sanctity of the time stone.

Now that he had, he wondered if it was too high a cost.

Mantis crouched beside Peter, though the remaining Guardians opted to keep their distance. They weren’t sure how to deal with grief at the best of times - let alone with a near-stranger.

“I c-can’t lose them again,” Peter stammered, tears streaking down his cheeks, “Mom and - and dad, and Uncle Ben, and I - ”

He clutched pleadingly at the armor, even as Mantis rested a hand on his back.

“Mr. Stark, please - please, I can’t do it. I can't do it, I don’t want to lose you too. ”

A tear slipped down Mantis’s cheek as she took on Peter’s grief.

“Sleep.”  She said softly.

He did.

They cut it terribly close.

Thanos was hardly a foot away when Wanda shattered the gem - when Vision fell lifeless to the ground and she collapsed as if the act had killed her, too. The Mad Titan was left reeling even as her magic stopped pushing him away, staring as his best laid plans fell apart before his eyes.

“No!”  He screamed, pure fury in his voice, and moved to seize the witch before something dug into his calf.

He whirled to face Okoye with such force that the spear was wrenched from her hands, determined now only to kill anyone who had stood in his way. But when he reached for her, yet another hero lunged ahead, digging vibranium claws into his arm to stay his hand.

He had crushed armies before, with or without the gauntlet, had squashed gods beneath his palm, had stood his ground against their Hulk. But the sheer number of foes overwhelmed him now, one drawing his attention before he could land a clean blow on another. He screamed and fought and held his own, if only barely, against the all-encompassing assault, but nothing could have prepared him for the God of Thunder flying through the air.

Thor’s axe cleaved into his chest with enough force to drive Thanos back a step, and he groaned as the blade dug in.

“I told you,” Thor rumbled, with thunder in his voice, “You would die for that.”

He moved his hand for something - the reality stone to unmake his foes, or the space stone to carry him away - but red magic expanded around the gauntlet, pinning it in place.

“Stop!” The witch yelled, still crouched over her lover’s fallen form.

She held Thanos at bay as Thor moved to wrench his axe free from his chest.

“Thor,” Bruce shouted from across the battlefield, “The head!”

Thanos fell, like too many heroes.

The earth was still.

Chapter Text

The Space Stone

Loki held the tesseract aloft, fingertips gone bone-white with the force of grasping it. He spared a glance, but only that, to Thor, who was already beginning to look so disappointed. As if he really intended to give it up - as if he, always the traitor, always the schemer - had damned them now with a surrender.

“You really are the worst, brother.”

“Yes, well,” Loki said, lips twitching with the makings of a smirk as the blue glow of the space stone’s magic encased Thanos’s gauntlet, “Do feel free to complain on the trip out.”

The same light gleamed for less than a second around them both, before all three - Thor, Loki, and the gauntlet right off Thanos’s wrist - were shrouded in a fog-like smoke that carried them away.

His only regret was that he hadn’t the time to see the look on the Titan’s face.

The Time Stone

Mantis strained with the effort to remain perched on Thanos’s shoulders, head bowed and spine curled over as she shared his grief.

“He mourns!” She cried, and that was the precise moment at which Stephen Strange realized that their best laid plans were about to go to shit.

He was not supposed to break the natural laws - to claim mastery over time simply because he held the stone. It would be wrong. It could make him like Kaecilius. Using the Eye to stop time in a single desperate moment could easily set him on a slippery slope to villainy.

Then again, Strange thought, humans have always been good at dealing with slopes. They build stairs.

That insight was enough. He called the stone out of its safe-keeping with a precise gesture and a whisper of his desires - a mere impulse - was sufficient to still the universe itself.

The moment of chaos came to a complete pause, and stretched immeasurably. Strange imagined that this might be how higher beings felt - did it seem to them that every second ticked by only at their leisure, by virtue of their quickened mental processes? Or did time speed on with altered haste to those immortals, days blurring to years when neither had any impact on their lifespans?

He shook off that unruly train of thought, unsure of how many minutes it might have consumed had the Eye not suspended him in time. Taking a steadying breath, Stephen Strange considered the puzzle before him, studying the moment as he strode around to observe it from another angle.

Peter Quill’s face was set in a grimace, eyes narrowed with hate, jaw clenched tight by rage. His fist was balled and already pulled back, a punch halfway to being thrown despite his allies’ pleas with him to wait.

Mantis’s legs were wrapped tightly over Thanos’s chest and shoulders, but her strain was evident and hands set too low on the Titan’s forehead to be fully spared by the force of Quill’s punch, if it were to land.

The gauntlet had slipped somewhat off Thanos’s massive forearm, and now appeared to be hanging by his palm and fingers. Given a number of seconds, they could have it off.

Strange nodded to himself decisively, his surgeon’s eyes quick to find a solution to the simple puzzle. Keeping some focus on the time stone to be sure his hold wouldn’t prematurely slip, he maneuvered Quill’s body backwards a step, carefully arranging his stance so the movement wouldn’t be noticeable once time began to move again. Then, with a precise, circular gesture, a portal split space open between Quill and Thanos, providing a scenic view of what would hopefully be a calming trip to Central Park.

Content with his arrangement, Strange paced back to the spot he had previously occupied and renewed his binding spell over Thanos. Then - after murmuring a brief prayer to any well-meaning forces out there, but mostly to the intelligence of his own design - he set time back on its rightful course again.

The green glow of the Eye faded as it was locked away, and Peter Quill’s grunt cut off abruptly as the force of his punch - landing on nothing - threw his body through the portal.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” Peter Parker babbled excitedly, having taken no notice of the apparently spontaneously occurring magic in his fixation on his own task. The gauntlet slipped free just as Thanos regained control over his mind and, in his confusion, he began to reach through the portal with his newly empty hand for an off-balance Peter Quill.

Hardly needing foresight from the Eye to take advantage of such a timely opportunity, Strange quickly snapped the portal shut.

Somewhere in central park, Thanos’s hand - and only his hand - bowled Peter to the ground.

Somewhere on Titan, Thanos-except-his-hand roared with pain, and doused an entirely different Peter with his blood.

The Mind Stone

“Wanda, wait,” Vision’s words were enough to stay her hand, her red magic fading from around the gem set in his forehead. She reached out instead, quivering, eyes tearful and hands unsteady even without the strain of witchcraft.

The Titan, of course, took this opportunity to surge forward, and his hands were mere inches from Wanda’s distracted form before a blast of yellow light stopped him in his tracks.

Thanos’s eyes glazed over and he swayed with the suddenness of the mind stone’s influence. For a moment, it wasn’t clear what had happened, until the anger smoothed over from his brow and he gazed placidly down at Vision.

“I would like you to stop this, please.” Vision requested politely, as the stone centered in his forehead gleamed with power. Thanos merely looked confused as the battle came to a complete standstill around him, so Vision carried on. “No good will come of gathering the infinity stones, or of ending any further lives. You know this. You do not want that sort of power - you don’t want to do this.”

“I... do not,” The Titan agreed, taking on a plainly bewildered expression as he stared down at the gauntlet on his fist.

“You’d like to take that off.”

“Yes,” He said immediately, struggling with the glove for a moment before it began to slip free.

The Avengers were silent as the grave, frozen in mixed disbelief and fear that their movement could somehow dispel the mind stone’s work.

“Would you hand it to Captain Rogers, please?”

Vision’s tone is soft and kind, as if he were speaking to a child. And like a child, Thanos reached out to offer the gauntlet over, uncharacteristically eager to please.

Steve picked his jaw up off the floor and took the gauntlet, almost buckling under its surprising weight.

“Very good, thank you,” Vision said, the very picture of serenity and heedless of the Avengers’ slack-jawed stares.

“Now, you must be feeling very tired, after such a long day. Go on and take a nap.”

“Hey, uh,” Bucky started, as Thanos completely ignored the enemies around him to lay compliantly on the grass and rest his head.

“What the fuck just happened?”