Chapter 17: Coping with Loss and Rebuilding in Isolation

The world was quieter now. Quieter than Tony Stark had ever experienced. Wakanda, once a bustling center of innovation and life, felt hollow. The streets were empty, half of its population gone in an instant. The dust that had once been vibrant, breathing souls still clung to the air, though it had long since settled.

Tony had returned to the now-empty lab in Wakanda. The place where he and Shuri had worked together for months felt ghostly. Her tools, her blueprints, everything remained just as she had left it before the battle. But she wasn't there. She was gone, just like so many others.

Tony sat in silence, staring at the now-dormant Mark 85. The suit that had been their greatest achievement, their combined brilliance, hadn't been enough. He had thought that together, they could do anything. He had believed that with her help, they could stop Thanos. But he had been wrong.

The grief was suffocating.

For days after the Snap, Tony had barely spoken. He had been there when Steve, Natasha, and the others regrouped, when they started planning what to do next. But his mind had been elsewhere—on Shuri, on the others who had vanished, on the monumental loss they had all suffered.

He had returned to the lab, hoping that being surrounded by the things they had built together might give him some kind of clarity, some kind of direction. But instead, all it did was remind him of how much they had lost.

Time passed, though Tony barely noticed it. Days blurred into one another, and the world outside Wakanda continued to spiral into chaos. The remaining Avengers had tried to keep things together, but without half of the population, the world had become a shadow of its former self. Nations crumbled. People gave in to despair. Tony had seen the news—riots, chaos, governments falling apart—but none of it registered. It all felt so far away from him.

He spent most of his time in the lab, tinkering with projects that felt meaningless now. The suits, the tech, the advancements—they all felt hollow without Shuri by his side. She had been the one to push him, to inspire him, to make him see the bigger picture. And now she was gone.

Tony had never been good at dealing with loss. After his parents, after Afghanistan, after everything that had happened to him, he had always thrown himself into his work, using it as a way to avoid dealing with the pain. But this time, it wasn't working. This time, the work felt empty.

The lab was silent except for the occasional hum of a machine, and Tony found himself talking to the empty room more often than not, as if somehow, Shuri might walk through the door again, like none of it had ever happened.

But she didn't. She wouldn't.

Weeks passed. Tony had isolated himself from the rest of the world, refusing calls from the remaining Avengers, ignoring messages from Pepper. He couldn't face them, not yet. Not after everything that had happened. He had failed them. He had failed her. The weight of it was too much to bear.

But eventually, something changed.

It started with a dream. A memory, really.

Tony was standing in the lab, working on a prototype of the Mark 80, and Shuri was beside him, offering her usual mix of brilliant ideas and lighthearted banter. She had laughed, teasing him about his over-reliance on technology, and for a moment, everything had felt perfect. They had been on the verge of something incredible, a partnership that could change the world.

And then, in the dream, she had turned to dust. Right in front of him. Just like on the battlefield.

Tony had woken up in a cold sweat, his heart racing, the grief and guilt crashing down on him like a tidal wave. But this time, something was different. This time, it wasn't just the pain that lingered.

It was the memory of her voice.

"We're not done yet, Stark."

Those were the last words she had said to him before they went into battle. She had been right there with him, fighting until the very end. She had believed in him. She had believed in them. And she wouldn't have wanted him to give up.

Tony sat up in bed, staring at the darkened room. For the first time in weeks, something shifted inside him. The grief was still there, the pain still raw, but now there was something else—something like determination.

He couldn't change what had happened. He couldn't bring Shuri back. But he could honor her. He could continue the work they had started together, the work that was meant to change the world. She wouldn't have wanted him to quit. She wouldn't have wanted him to give up.

"We're not done yet, Stark."

Tony swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair. He had been lost in his grief for so long, but now... now he had something to hold onto. Shuri's belief in him, in what they could accomplish, hadn't died with her. It was still there, pushing him forward.

It was time to get back to work.

Tony returned to the lab with a new sense of purpose. The pain of Shuri's absence still lingered, but now it fueled him rather than holding him back. He began working on new projects, picking up where they had left off. He dove into the Global Tech Initiative once again, determined to make good on the promise they had made to each other—to change the world, to make it better.

He also started upgrading the suits again, focusing on the Mark 90, a new iteration designed to push the limits of everything they had created so far. The suit wasn't just for defense anymore—it was designed to survive the harshest conditions, to adapt to any environment, to withstand any force. It was a suit built for survival. And Tony was going to make sure that when the time came, it would be ready.

As he worked, Tony started reaching out again. Slowly, at first. He answered Pepper's calls, spoke with Steve and Natasha, even had a conversation with T'Challa about continuing the work Shuri had started in Wakanda. It wasn't easy, but it was a start. The world hadn't ended with the Snap. There was still a future to fight for, even if it wasn't the one they had hoped for.

One evening, as Tony sat in the lab, surrounded by blueprints and prototypes, he paused, his hands hovering over the holographic display. For a moment, he let himself imagine what Shuri would say if she were there with him now—how she would smile, challenge his ideas, push him to think bigger. He missed her more than words could express, but he knew one thing for sure: she was still with him, in every project, every idea, every step forward.

"We're not done yet," he whispered to the empty room.

And for the first time in a long time, Tony believed it.