Avengers Endgame (Gwen’s New journey)

You drift in silence among the stars, the wreckage of hope left behind on Titan. The battle against Thanos is over, and you are one of the few who survived the Snap. The memory of allies turning to ash still haunts you, replaying in the quiet moments between heartbeats. Now, there is only the slow hum of the Benatar, carrying you, Tony Stark, and Nebula across an endless ocean of black. At first, the ship’s autopilot keeps you moving toward Earth. But the damage from the battle proves worse than expected. Systems begin to fail one by one. Fuel reserves dwindle. Communications remain dead. The Benatar eventually loses thrust completely, leaving you stranded in open space. Days blur together. You ration every scrap of food and every drop of water. Nebula’s methodical precision keeps the three of you disciplined. Tony does what he can to keep morale alive, repairing failing systems with limited tools, cracking dry jokes that feel heavier with each passing day. You take shifts monitoring oxygen levels, each glance at the dwindling numbers tightening the knot in your chest. Day 8. Hunger gnaws constantly. Day 14. The silence becomes oppressive. Day 18. Even Tony grows quiet. By Day 22, the air is thin, every breath an effort. The ship is cold. Weakness spreads through your limbs as oxygen reserves near depletion. Tony records a final message, voice faint but steady, hoping somehow it might reach Pepper Potts. The words hang heavy in the still air. Even he knows the odds. Nebula remains steady, though even she cannot hide the weight of inevitability. Then, light. At first, you think it’s a hallucination brought on by oxygen deprivation. A golden glow pierces the darkness outside the viewport, growing brighter with impossible speed. Energy crackles around a figure moving effortlessly through space itself. Captain Marvel. She reaches the Benatar, steadying the drifting ship with sheer force of will. Systems flicker back to life as she carefully guides the vessel through the void, towing you all the way home. Earth fills the viewport. Relief hits harder than any battle ever could. As the Benatar enters the atmosphere, damaged plating groans, but holds. Clouds part beneath you, revealing the Avengers Facility standing quiet against the horizon. The ship touches down on the landing pad with a metallic groan. Through the cockpit glass, you see them waiting. Steve Rogers stands at the front of the group, posture straight but eyes heavy with concern. Natasha Romanoff and James Rhodes stand nearby, the weight of the Snap evident in their expressions. The compound feels emptier than it should, the silence louder than any battlefield. The ramp lowers slowly. Steve steps forward, his face softening with relief as he sees survivors emerge from the damaged ship. “Tony…” Tony lets out a weak laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “We lost the kid,” he says quietly, voice cracked from dehydration and anger. “We lost the kid… we lost.” No one interrupts. No one dares. He moves closer, every step fueled by something deeper than exhaustion. “I said we’d lose,” Tony continues, his voice gaining strength through frustration. “You said we’d do that together too. Guess what, Cap? We lost. And you weren’t there.” Steve absorbs the words without argument. The weight of leadership sits heavily on his shoulders. Tony’s hands tremble as he gestures weakly. “I needed you. We needed you. You said we’d face it together… but you weren’t there.” Rhodey moves closer, ready to steady him, but Tony pushes forward one last time, pressing something into Steve’s hands — the arc reactor housing from his chest piece. “You trust me?” Tony asks bitterly. “I said we’d lose. You said we’d win. I needed a suit of armor around the world… remember that?” His strength finally gives out. Rhodey catches him before he collapses completely. Steve then comes over to support you, noticing you can barely stand.