Heeeey, look at me starting another multichapter fic even though I'm having trouble managing just one, yaaaay!
"Did you at least finish it before posting, as you said you'd do? Eeehhhh... no. The truth is, I wanted to finish it before the Infinity War release, but soon it became obvious that's unlikely. Still, I wanted to at least kick it off before the movie, so yeah, this is how we got here. At least this time I have everything more or less planned and some stuff already written in advance. Also, it's not gonna be long.
ANYWAY. Some time ago I had this thought that there are lots of fics in which Thor shows up at Stark Tower or some other Avengery place with an injured/sick/otherwise-in-a-bad-shape Loki and asks for help, but as far as I know, there are none where it's the other way around.
And, well, sloppy writing happened.
Tony Stark was not an indecisive man, quite the opposite. While not exactly the most impulsive man on the planet, time and again he had proved he could make a decision, even a difficult one, on the spot, in a matter of mere seconds. But this conundrum… This required careful deliberation, and, frankly, he would give a lot just to be able not to make that choice at all.
"You can always flip a coin," Rhodey suggested from his spot on the couch, an almost empty bottle in his hand. "We risk running out of beer before we even start. And the pizza's getting cold."
Sitting on Rhodey's left, Tony groaned, staring at the ceiling. "I don't want to. I told you I'm not a series person. I'm a movie person. Series require commitment and I'm not—"
"Oi!" Rhodey wagged his finger. "What would Pepper say to that, I wonder?"
Tony glared at him. "Low blow, buddy, low blow. Why can't we just watch a movie instead?"
"Because we watched movies last time, and before that, and before that… Almost everything we do nowadays when I manage to drag you away from work is watch movies."
"Uh, we played Monopoly once."
"Yeah. Worst five hours of my life. And Happy's still mad at you. Anyway, it's my turn to decide."
"I let you choose the movies! Some of them."
"And now I'm letting you choose the series. So… Twin Peaks, Breaking Bad or Downton Abbey?"
"You know, I've known you for years and I had no idea you're such a TV series buff. I never knew you actually had time for this."
"It's a pretty recent development. I've got lots of time nowadays when I'm not working with these." Rhodey lightly patted the exoskeleton encasing his legs. Hundreds of adjustments, four surgeries, and hours of therapy after his accident, he was making some progress and finally could ditch the crutches, at least when he was wearing the exoskeleton. But anything faster than a trot was still a challenge, and while Rhodey kept hinting at trying to get back into his War Machine suit, Tony didn't even want to hear about it. Not yet. "Gotta fill it with something."
Tony bit his lip, feeling a bit uneasy. He cleared his throat. "You know what? It's your call." He bent forward and took a slice of the pizza from the table. "Whatever it is, I'll start complaining why the plot wasn't resolved yet by episode four or so, so it makes no difference. Take your pick, I'll just be sitting here and enjoying the food, if nothing else."
Rhodey sighed. "You are insufferable."
"I think it's the millionth time you said that. On with the show, let's be done with it."
"Fine." Rhodey picked up the remote. "Breaking Bad it is. It's a pity Vision's not here, maybe he'd lighten up the atmosphere a little, since you're such a grumpy cat today… How's Vision, by the way?
"Fine, I guess?" Tony chewed on his pizza. "He called yesterday, talked about visiting some museum of old stuff. Europe seems to be doing him good. Oh, by the way—here's a new selfie, look."
He took his phone out of his pocket and showed Rhodey a photo of Vision standing in front of St. Peter's Basilica. With a wide smile on his face, he certainly looked better now than before, no longer the silent, grim recluse he'd been in the weeks following the whole Sokovia Accords mess. And while Tony was glad for him, he missed him sometimes, even though it had been him who gave Vision a credit card when the latter shared with him the idea of travelling to Europe, on his own, and staying for some time—to go sightseeing and see other aspects of humanity's culture up close, per his own words. Tony had a feeling there was more to that, but all he asked for in return was that Vision send him some photos and get him a little souvenir maybe. Vision did both, sharing photos of him smiling in front of landmarks, and sending Tony the souvenir in the mail.
"Yeah, well…" Tony sighed, his eyes drifting to a tiny model of the Leaning Tower of Pisa standing on the nearby shelf; Vision took the 'little' part a bit too literally. "I'd rather be on the other side of the planet than here as well."
"Stop whining, and enjoy the show." Rhodey paused with the remote in hand, about to press play. "Let's make a deal: if you're not hooked by the end of the first episode, I'm paying for the pizza next time."
"Alright. And if by some miracle I'm hooked—"
Before Tony could come up with something trivial enough, a sudden, bright flash of blue light outside caught his attention.
By the time he turned towards the window it was gone, the lawn swathed in the evening's soft darkness except for the paths illuminated by the lanterns—and a much smaller light, blue like the flash, seemingly no bigger than a spark.
Tony rose from the couch and as he walked closer, he could swear he saw something else in the grass near the landing pad, some dark shape only barely touched by the lights, that most certainly hadn't been there before. It was hard to tell, but it looked roughly human-sized, maybe a little bigger.
And then the sound of the alarm blared through the facility. Tony winced at it; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't possibly make an alarm sound that would not sound utterly irritating.
"Security breach," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice announced over the noise, almost inappropriately calm in contrast. "At least one intruder detected on the premises. Hostility level: unknown. Please initiate the Party Crasher Protocol."
"Talk about a fitting name, really." Tony rushed to the door, as F.R.I.D.A.Y. continued speaking, instructing the security to investigate the threat and all the other personnel to remain inside. "Rhodey, stay here."
"Don't exactly have to tell me that," Rhodey grumbled and even though he was probably joking, Tony once again wanted to slap himself for making his awkward. But he couldn't worry about that just now; there was probably a much more troublesome matter to be taken care of outside.
He ran down the stairs, heading for the nearest exit, stopping only to open one of the many locked cabinets scattered all over the facility.
Other people had emergency fire extinguishers. Tony Stark had emergency suit gauntlets. And fire extinguishers as well, but right now it wasn't the thing he needed.
He punched in the code opening the cabinet and put on the metal gauntlet, fitting perfectly over his hand and forearm, its self-contained system humming as it powered up. Tony also picked up a pair of HUD glasses—not as good as his helmet and certainly less protective than that, but still helpful, and certainly better than nothing. It was a bit of a pity that the Bleeding Edge was down in the lab, but there probably wasn't time to make a detour. This would have to be enough, he had designed it specifically for situations like this. He dared to hope it would be even too much for whatever was outside.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y., private mode," Tony said, switching on the earpiece and resuming his sprint to the exit. He pushed a tiny button on the glasses' frame and the HUD flickered to life on the lenses. "How did they get in here, what was that light and so on?"
"It's unclear, boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered. "The security footage shows absolutely nothing there before the flash occurred. I'm still analyzing the readings. We may be dealing with some form of instantaneous transportation of matter across long distances here."
"Teleportation? Really now?" Tony groaned. The place was well-guarded, both by people and by various technical wonders, mostly built by him, and was supposed to be impenetrable—but Tony had never actually thought about the possibility of someone teleporting here. Which, taking into account all the weird things he'd seen so far… he definitely should have. Now he felt like an utter idiot.
By the time he reached the scene, what looked like all of his security personnel currently on site—about a dozen of people—had already formed a circle around the intruder. Or, as Tony realized as he got closer, the intruders. Two of them, to be exact. Tony joined the circle of the men and women pointing their weapons and at the unexpected guests, raised his gauntleted hand, readying the repulsor to fire if need be—and froze where he stood as he recognized one of the intruders.
The nightmare from several years ago, the man who had torn the sky above New York open and unleashed an army of monsters upon the city, someone who was supposed to be a thing of the past—a dead thing of the past—and yet here he was, in the present, looking very much alive.
Standing right in front of him, just next to Tony's own landing pad, on Tony's own lawn, basically on Tony's own doorstep, was Loki of Asgard—and he wasn't alone.
Tony forced himself take his eyes off Loki and look at his companion. The other man, whose arm was draped around Loki's shoulder and whose head was hanging low, hiding his face from view, seemed unconscious, and was overall a sorry sight. He looked as if he'd been chewed on and spat out. His tattered cape hung from his one shoulder; he was bruised and bloodied, but what particularly got Tony's attention was a tear in his armor, revealing a deep gash in his side.
Tony's eyes shifted back to Loki and he had to admit that the cosmic nuisance didn't look that much better. He didn't appear to be as severely injured as the other man, but his clothes were torn in places and he's got his own share of cuts and bruises marring his face.
What happened to them was Tony's first thought once the initial shock wore off. Why the hell is he alive was the second. This is a trick and he wants to kill us all was the third.
"Stark," Loki spoke, his voice raspy and full of urgency, "we need your help."
"You need my—" He paused, surprised. Maybe he shouldn't be, as Loki and his unfortunate companion very clearly looked like they needed help. But for Tony, that didn't make the situation any less weird, quite the opposite. "You need my help? Are you sure? Because last time I checked, we weren't exactly buddies."
"It's not about me, it's about my brother. You are still his friend, right?"
At this mention, Tony was about to ask where Thor was and if he needed help why hadn't he come in person and instead sent his no-good, officially dead sibling—but then his gaze once again fell on Loki's companion and Tony felt the blood in his veins run cold.
"You—you've got to be kidding me," he choked out, shaking his head.
The cape should have given him a hint. Maybe that armor as well—it was different than before, but when Tony thought of it, there was something familiar about its design. But the once flowing golden hair was cut down now, the trusty hammer was nowhere to be seen, and the otherworldly royal splendor, the innate power that always had an almost radiating quality to it, was gone. Now all that was left was a broken, limp body.
No way. Just… no way.
Carefully, like he was walking into a minefield, Tony stepped forwards. Loki didn't move, standing where he was and keeping his eyes on Tony, looking at him in an almost pleading manner.
Reaching out with his unarmed hand, Tony carefully cupped the unconscious man's face and lifted it a little so he could see it. He sucked in a breath and almost drew back as his horrible suspicions were confirmed.
That was Thor. That was very obviously Thor, Tony would recognize that face anytime and anywhere, even with all that mottled red and purple on his skin, even with that metal eye patch covering what Tony feared was an empty socket.
Tony shuddered. He'd never seen Thor like that. He'd never expected to see him like that. That was a guy who could easily kick holes in brick walls, challenge the Hulk to an arm-wrestling contest, and take a solid punch to the face like it was nothing. That was someone who should not look like that.
"What happened?" Tony asked in an almost fearful whisper. Then he looked at Loki and, anger bubbling up in his chest, growled, "What have you done to him?!"
"It… wasn't me." Loki sounded strangely unsure.
"Yeah, that's totally believable, it's not like you have a history of villainy and betrayal."
"You want explanation?" Loki snapped at him. "You shall get it. But take care of him first." He hesitated and then, with visible difficulty, added, "Please."
Taken aback, Tony eyed him more carefully. He hadn't known Loki for long, but he'd seen quite a few of his faces. He'd seen him angry, confident, confused, he'd even seen him defeated and resigned—but it was the first time he saw Loki being desperate. That couldn't be anything else gleaming in Loki's wide eyes and making his hand clench a bit too tightly on Thor's forearm.
The cautious part of Tony reminded him that it could all just be a part of some malicious scheme on Loki's part. But as he took another quick glance at Thor, he cast the suspicions aside. Scheme or not, Thor's injuries seemed way too real and Tony preferred to err on the side of not letting him bleed to death on his lawn.
"Dammit," he muttered and then turned to the security guards. "Someone take Thor to the infirmary. Yeah, yeah, it's really Thor, now get over it and hurry up," he added, seeing the bewilderment on some of the guards' faces. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., if by some miracle Doctor Cho's not awake yet, make her so. Tell her Thor needs her help and she'll be in the infirmary yesterday."
"Roger that, boss."
"I am going with him," Loki said as two of the guards approached them.
"Nope, you're not." Tony took a step back raised his armed hand again. "I'm helping Thor, fine, but on my own terms, and they don't include you just waltzing into my place as a guest. So play nice and just hand him over."
Loki looked around, glaring daggers at pretty much every single person in sight, but apart from that, he didn't move, and when the guards carefully took Thor from him, he didn't protest. Tony, however, was still targeting him, and so was everyone still holding a weapon.
"Now then, you—" Tony began, but Loki interrupted him, raising his hands.
"I surrender."
For a moment, Tony forgot how to use his tongue. "You—say what?"
"I surrender. I'm outnumbered and, to be honest, definitely not at my best, so let us spare ourselves the trouble."
Tony gritted his teeth as a nasty feeling of déjà vu hit him. That was a scheme, that was yet another dastardly scheme, a trap waiting to be sprung at the right moment, just like in Stuttgart—and the moment they took Loki into custody, they would fall for it. And Tony wasn't dumb enough to fall for the same trick twice.
But then, what else exactly could they do? They couldn't just let Loki go. If he was dangerous when captured, he was much more so when roaming free. It crossed Tony's mind that they could just kill him here and now—he was a threat, he had tried to enslave them all and murdered innocent people. If anyone deserved to be killed on sight, that would be him. And he was supposed to be dead anyway.
Still, the idea of killing someone who had just surrendered and displayed no overt hostility—no matter how deceiving that appearance might be—just didn't sit well enough with Tony. And, whether Tony liked it or not, Loki was the only person who knew what had happened to Thor. And also the least person they should expect an honest and accurate testimony from.
Tony suppressed a groan. He regarded Loki warily, wishing for a fourth, perfectly safe option to come to his mind. Rather predictably, it did not. He only managed to observe that Loki was slightly calmer now, but even without supporting Thor's weight, he was still not quite standing upright, his raised hands shook a little, and his right palm seemed burned, as if he'd been holding a hot coal. But like everything else, that could also be a part of a deception.
Tony could not see a decision that would not lead to some kind of disaster. Everything he could do now was to minimize the damage as much as possible—and he assumed they had a better chance at succeeding at that once they had Loki locked up.
But before he could give the order, Loki's face suddenly contorted in pain and he bent double, gasping for air and clutching his chest. Startled, Tony backed away.
Oh great, now what?!
"Uh—Loki, is everything okay?" Tony asked, although it was rather obvious what the answer was. He briefly wondered if Loki was having a heart attack or something, or if they should expect some nasty alien critter to jump out of his chest, but then he noticed that Loki's hands started to glow blue.
Tony hissed, the repulsor buzzing with energy, ready to shoot, but he still hesitated. Loki was not attacking. If anything, he looked as distressed by the situation as Tony was, if not more. He groaned, clearly struggling to stay on his feet. His hands were no longer glowing—instead, it was now a shining blue cube he was holding.
Tony broke out in cold sweat. Teleportation. Loki. The cube. The cube. The Tesseract.
The past flashed before his eyes, unbidden: the portal in the sky, the suffocating vacuum of space, the murderous aliens swarming Manhattan.
He wasn't going to let that happen again. No more lives would be lost because of that blasted cube, not a single one more, not on his watch.
Loki raised his eyes, wide open and uncertain. He was still breathing shakily.
"Stark—"
A repulsor beam hit him in the stomach, sending him flying backwards. The Tesseract fell out of his hands and onto the lawn.
"Nobody touch that shiny thing!" Tony barked, approaching the Tesseract, his gaze shifting back and forth between it and Loki, still sprawled in the grass at the guards' feet and apparently in not too much of a hurry to get up. "I'll handle it. Take him somewhere secure." He indicated Loki with a jerk of his head. "Restrain him, search him and keep an eye on him. Don't leave him alone even for a second. And—" Tony hesitated. "Don't call anyone. Not yet."
While the guards hauled the slightly dazed Loki away—the lack of resistance on his part being more disconcerting than anything—Tony crouched by the Tesseract, hands hovering over the cube. Just grabbing it with his bare hand probably wasn't a smart idea. Doing it with the armored one… Maybe slightly better, assuming the contact wouldn't short-circuit the mechanism, melt the gauntlet, or do some other unpredictable thing.
After a moment of deliberation, his metal-encased fingers closed around the Tesseract. When nothing happened, Tony carefully picked up the cube, holding it at arm's length. Still nothing. Hopefully it would stay like this at least until he got it into the lab.
Tony turned around, heading back into the building. He realized he was trembling, and his heart was beating way too fast than it should. He tightened his grip on the Tesseract, wishing he could just crush that cosmic piece of junk with his own hands and get rid of it once and for all. If only it had stayed in whatever super-safe Asgardian Fort Knox it had been for all those years and he'd be happy never to see it again—but no, of course it had to return, and in a most unwelcome company to boot.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y.," he said, "tell Rhodey our movie night is cancelled. I've got some work to do."
Pssst, I actually only watched one of the shows Rhodey mentions. You can guess which one.