The King: T'Challa.

Chapter 33: Return Of Thanos.

Steve didn't look at Tony when he asked it; he kept his eyes on the lake. "Do we know if she had family?"

"Yeah," Steve said, sharper than he meant to. "Us."

Thor frowned. "What?"

Tony lifted a hand, defensive already. "I asked a question."

"Yeah, and you're talking about her like she's a headline," Steve shot back. "We don't do that."

Tony rounded on him, frayed to the wire. "Why are we acting like she's gone for good? We have the Stones. That's the whole point. We undo it. Isn't that the play?"

Silence settled, heavy as humidity. Emily was leaning against a timber post, head down, hands tight around the edge until her knuckles paled. She said, without lifting her eyes, "We can't bring her back."

Tony blinked. "Come again?"

"It can't be undone." She forced herself to meet his gaze. "He made that very clear."

Thor huffed a laugh that didn't get off the ground. "No offence, but that's a very terrestrial conclusion. We're discussing the mechanics of... space magic. 'Can't' is a bold word."

Emily pushed off the beam. "Then where is she, Thor?"

"That isn't what I—"

"That red wraith on Vormir wasn't bluffing," she said, stepping into his space because anger was easier to carry than grief. "A soul for a soul. Maybe you'd like to go back and haggle? Grab your hammer and ask him nicely."

Her voice snagged, the heat turning to something raw. "It was supposed to be me. She made the choice."

Bruce moved first. He picked up a bench and threw it in a clean arc across the water, as if to pitch the uselessness of the moment away from them. It smashed into reeds and vanished. "She's not coming back," he said, breathing hard, the big hands unclenching. "So we make it count."

Steve nodded, once. "We will."

***

In the lab, the Stones looked wrong together, like dangerous company at the same table. Tony's gauntlet sat in a cradle while he and Bruce worked in tandem, the precision of two men who distrusted luck. The lattice accepted each Stone with a neat, mechanical click that didn't acknowledge its own enormity.

"Boom," Rocket said as the last gem seated, and both Tony and Bruce flinched before groaning at him in the same breath.

The room filled—armour, dust, old ghosts. Emily stood to one side, her hands folded, watching the gauntlet with the wariness reserved for loaded weapons and old habits.

"All right," Rocket said, bouncing the words off the metal. "It's ready. Who's doing the honours?"

"I will," Thor announced, stepping forward.

"Excuse me?" Scott said, half a beat behind disbelief.

"Wait," Steve said, moving to block him without quite touching him. "We haven't decided who wears it."

"What is there to decide?" Thor demanded. "We sit here and admire it? I am the strongest among us. Duty is duty."

"It's not a weight-lifting contest," Tony said, the edge of worry sharpened to irritation. "That thing channelling through you is a continental power grid. You're not in a state to—"

Thor dragged in a breath, hunting for pride and finding only habit. "What do you think runs through my veins?"

"Cheez Whiz," Emily said, because someone had to let a little air in.