Chapter 2:

Already, Steve's beginning to question the validity of his decision to bring the child back to his apartment, as it grows more readily apparent that he isn't at all prepared to deal with this kind of… situation.

The first issue he'd encountered had been arriving at his complex and realizing he was going to have to sneak the boy in without anyone noticing.

That nixed going through the front entrance and up the stairwell, as he normally would.

He'd opted instead to use the fire escape, out back. A simple enough task.

Despite being heavier than he'd appeared, Loki wasn't any kind of real burden upon Steve's enhanced frame, and he'd easily been able to cradle the kid against his chest and haul himself up the metal grating of the escape, up to his floor.

Luckily, he hadn't left his window locked, and he'd been able to side it open and step through, making sure not to knock Loki's head or feet against the frame as he'd done so.

From there, he'd been set on getting the child cleaned up, whatever wounds he'd suffered washed out and properly bandaged and wrapped, and hopefully then some place comfortable and safe to rest.

He'd wondered if he shouldn't have brought Loki straight to a hospital, worry still weighing heavy on him about the boy's physical state. That hit he'd taken…

But he knew to do so would only draw SHIELD's attention. That they'd be all over the situation in a matter of hours, if not minutes. That was assuming they weren't already aware. Steve realizes in retrospect that he hadn't exactly been subtle in the way he'd swept in and whisked Loki away.

Even if SHIELD weren't yet aware of who the child was that Steve had rescued, they very likely knew such a rescue had occurred, and, if indeed they did, they'd come calling eventually, asking questions.

He'd brought Loki's still unconscious form to his own room, laying him out on the bed, making sure his head was well supported upon a firm pillow, before rushing off to gather supplies.

A large bowl of warm water, clean washcloths, antiseptic wipes and gauze bandaging and surgical tape.

It was as he'd been cleaning Loki up, and in all the fear and panic of before, getting for the first time a really good look at him, that Steve began to notice just how poor the boy's condition was, beyond the fact that he'd been hit by a car going 40.

He was awfully small. Something Steve had noticed before. But up close and paying attention, Loki looked… well, almost stunted. He stood just barely taller than Steve's knees, and he was painfully, even frighteningly thin, ribs prominent and arms and legs like strings. Like he'd been starved.

Though there was also to the boy a definition of muscle unnatural to one so young, and it made Steve wonder if he wasn't in fact older than what he'd initially thought.

It was hard for Steve to say, given Loki wasn't at all human. He had to keep reminding himself of that. The kid may look it, but he wasn't. He wasn't even the same species as Thor, now that he was remembering the Asgardian Prince telling them all that Loki had been adopted, from a race called the Jotnar. A race of giants, Thor had said, though there hadn't been anything particularly "giant" about Loki.

And now, well, Loki was so small, Steve might even call him sickly.

And that thought had conjured up unwanted memories of his own youth. Of always being so fragile and sick, most days he couldn't even make it outside to play.

Further unsettling had been the obvious signs of struggle.

Loki's small knuckles had been split open and bleeding sluggishly, and his nails torn and caked under with blood.

Steve had thought at first the damage had been wrought by his being dragged across the pavement. But further inspection more bore the look of someone who had lashed out in defense of himself. Damaged suffered from thrown punches and scratching.

Steve had recalled the boys chasing Loki. Recalled the terror in Loki's eyes when he'd run into him, and the threatening taunts of the group of teenagers.

It all worked to paint a grim, upsetting picture in the captain's mind.

That, along with the boy's apparently starved condition, led Steve to wondering just how long Loki had been like this, and how long he'd been out there, on the street, alone and without shelter or clothes.

Clothes, in fact, were currently Steve's main dilemma, and what was causing him his second thoughts.

He'd realized, when he'd finally gotten Loki cleaned and bandaged up, that he didn't in fact have any clothes that would fit the child

But he couldn't leave him here naked either, and he was currently worried about leaving the kid alone. It wasn't at all an ideal time to go out shopping.

And so he'd settled on grabbing up one of his old, ratty t-shirts and carefully maneuvering Loki into it.

The thing looks absurd on the boy, Steve knows. Hanging completely off one side of his shoulders, exposing his collarbone, the hem reaching down past the kid's ankles, the short sleeves covering half his entire arms. It's too big by what must be fifteen plus sizes, but it's the best Steve can do for now.

And now, Steve thinks, all he can really do is settle in and wait.

He has no idea what's going to happen when Loki wakes up.

If he's half as scared and confused as he'd been back out there, then the captain knows he's going to have a problem.

And then there's Thor.

Damn.

Steve hasn't seen him in a few weeks, and he doesn't know when his teammate is going to be coming back.

No one has any real control over Thor's movements. Nobody is foolish enough to try and exert such control. Not even Nick.

Steve can only pray the Asgardian Prince gets back soon.

If there's anyone he needs to tell about all of this, it's him.

/

Steve snaps awake with a start, sitting up fast, eyes wide and chest heaving.

He'd been dreaming again, of the war. Of being on that plane, knowing he had no choice but to put it down, put it in the water.

Heard that conversation again. What he'd been sure then would be the last time he ever spoke to Peggy…

He shakes his head, rubbing a hand roughly over his face, trying to shove the images from his mind. To shove the feelings away.

It takes him a few, long seconds to realize that the light around him has grown dimmer, the room nearly dark with the rapidly setting sun.

He must have fallen asleep, he thinks. Must have been asleep for the past several hours.

And then suddenly he remembers, going for a run, turning to head back to his apartment, the little boy… Loki…

Steve rockets to his feet, suddenly, painfully aware that the boy isn't asleep on the bed anymore, as he'd last left him.

The captain turns in a circle, eyes searching frantically about the room, looking for any sign of the kid.

A slow, stifling panic starts to rise from the pit of his stomach, an endless stream of worst case scenarios running through his head.

What if SHIELD had come and taken him away somehow? What if someone else did? What if Loki had run away? What if Loki had set the whole thing up?! Didn't Thor say something about him being a shape-shifter? Christ! Why hadn't he thought of that before?

But no, no… Loki had been so terrified, and he'd been out cold when Steve brought him here, bruised and battered and clearly suffering…

His panic is just starting to reach a crescendo when he suddenly hears it.

A loud clattering from beyond the room, something crashing against the floor.

Steve is out the door in an instant, ears sharp and eyes peeled as noise continues to sound loudly from what seems like the kitchen, jangling and ringing obnoxiously.

He's careful as he makes his way down the short hallway, unsure of what's going on and having enough experience to know the foolery of bursting onto a scene ignorant and unprepared.

As he nears the kitchen, the clatter continues, focusing into what sounds like silverware skittering around the tiled floor. Closer still, and Steve can make out what sounds almost like quiet whimpers.

Whatever worry he'd previously felt melts quickly away, though still he's careful as he rounds the corner, pressing himself against the wall and turning his head slowly past the kitchen's threshold.

And there he finds Loki, still very much a child, stood in the center of the space.

Surrounding him is what looks like, as Steve had suspected, every single piece of silverware he owns. Forks, spoons, knives…

Scattered farther from him are the overturned drawers which had previously held the utensils, and about those, spilt boxes of various different foods. Crackers, cookies, chips, rice, dried beans and pasta.

The place looks like a bomb had gone off in it.

Steve drags his eyes back to Loki then, and he notices, recovering from his initial shock, the near frantic, confused and very obviously frightened state of the boy.

He's crying, tears tracking down his ruddy cheeks, as he looks intently down at the scattered utensils, brow furrowed in seeming dismay, as though the very sight of the things leaves him perplexed and anguished.

It takes Steve's brain a moment to catch up to the danger of the situation, but finally it kicks into gear when he sees Loki bending down, small hands reaching for a very sharp pairing knife.

"No!" He shouts, leaping forward unthinkingly, hand outreached to stop the boy.

He realizes his mistake an instant later, when Loki's head snaps up, eyes wide and jaw slack with unmitigated terror.

He hadn't realized he was there, Steve thinks belatedly. He didn't know.

The child stumbles backwards, hands flying up in front of his face in a vain attempt to defend himself, a sharp, high pitched gasp slipping past his lips.

In a moment, he's lost his footing, crashing to the floor gracelessly, onto his bottom, a strangled grunt following the impact.

Steve skids to a halt, realizing how scary he must seem to the poor kid, but the damage is already done.

Loki scrambles backwards, eyes the size of saucers and still fixed unblinkingly on the captain.

"Hey, hey, no, no, it… it's alright. It's alright. I'm not gonna hurt you." Steve tries fervently to explain, holding his own hands up in what he hopes is an understandable sign of peace.

Loki only continues to stare up at him, small chest heaving shallow and rapid in panic. He's on the verge of hyperventilating, and Steve feels a renewed sensed of urgency.

"Hey, it's okay…" he tries again, taking a slow step forward.

It's another mistake, as in the next moment, Loki's launched himself to his feet, quicker than any kid his age should be able, and faster than Steve can really follow, he goes flying towards the small dining table a few feet to his right, diving underneath it and scrabbling as he pushes himself under one of the hard backed chairs.

And Steve feels his heart sink, as he watches the boy curl in on himself, hands coming up over his head, pressing himself down into a ball, forehead against his knees.

He's shaking viciously, uncontrollably, and Steve knows it's because he thinks he's trapped.

Jesus, he's handled this entire situation like a rookie.

He waits a moment, eyes still on the child, trying to figure out in his mind how best to proceed.

Loki's absolutely petrified, that's obvious. And Steve's got to find some way to calm him down.

And then it comes to him.

Forcing down his own nerves, he begins forward cautiously, keeping his gaze fixed on the boy and keeping his steps light and soft.

Still, he's sure Loki is aware of his approach, the trembling through his tiny frame growing more pronounced by the second, and Steve has to force himself to continue, battling against the desire to back off.

When finally he finds himself within reach of the kid, he lowers himself gingerly down onto his knees, wanting to make himself appear as small and nonthreatening as possible, though he knows his chance for that is already pretty much shot to hell.

He's just beginning to reach out, Loki's name on the tip of his tongue, when suddenly the boy lashes out, and if Steve had had any doubts before of who the boy was, what occurs next eradicates any such questions.

The kid's like lightening, he's so fast. Steve doesn't even register the movement until after the boy's small fingers, thin and spindly, are wrapped around his wrist. An instant after, and the captain realizes the pressure.

Loki has him in just the right hold to snap the bone of his wrist, and he's strong. Far too strong for a child so young and small, and Steve knows, instinctively, if he were just a regular man, the bone would have been completely shattered by now.

Luckily for him, he's not, and without really thinking about it, he reaches his free hand over, grabbing hold of Loki's own, birdlike wrist and applying pressure to where he assumes the nerves are.

Quickly then, Loki's grip loosens, and he whimpers, trying to pull his wrist free of Steve's own.

If he'd been scared before, it's tenfold now, and Steve feels nothing but heartbreak as he looks at the boy. He'd just been terrified, he knows. He'd only been trying to defend himself.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." The captain begins, lowering himself until he's eyelevel with the boy, making certain to look at him directly.

"Loki," he says his name, very deliberately and slowly. "it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you."

And finally, blessedly, that seems to do the trick.

Hearing his name spoken, Steve watches some of the animal fear drain away from the child's delicate features, tears still streaming thick and fast from his vibrant eyes. Only they've cleared somewhat, some of that terror being replaced by confusion and regard.

He blinks at Steve, still leaned back from him, tension still vibrating through his rigid frame.

Slowly then, Steve lets go his grip on Loki's wrist, uncurling his already loosely held fingers and pulling his hand away carefully, so that the child can see his every movement.

He holds his hands up in front of him then, palms out.

"Alright Loki?" He asks, keeping his voice calm and soft.

He can see the kid recognizes his own name.

Good, Steve thinks. That's good.

And a moment later, it's confirmed, when for the first time since this whole thing began, he hears the boy speak.

It is with the same, unusual accent that Steve had heard in his voice before, when he was a full grown man. Only where Loki's voice had been commanding and silken and strong then, his voice now is young and high and soft. Barely above a whisper and difficult to catch.

"Y-you… you know me?" He asks, trepidation and confusion thick in his words, and underneath it all, showing blatantly too upon the child's features, there is hope.

And it's another, shocking difference between how Steve remembers Loki and what he sees before him now.

When before, Loki's face had been an absolute mask. Impossible to read. Impossible to know at all what he was really thinking.

His face now is wide open as a book, his emotions plain and naked upon every feature.

Steve smiles kindly at him, nodding.

"Sure do kiddo." He answers.

It occurs to him a moment after that Loki's surprise at it means in turn the boy doesn't know him. Doesn't recognize him.

A thousand questions flit through the captain's head at the realization, but for the moment, he shoves them away. He needs to deal with what's happening now.

Loki's eyes remain fixed on his face, still wide and confused, suspicion and fear beginning to seep back in.

He swallows thickly, body still shaking.

"… How?" He speaks again, and Steve remembers at once just how smart Loki is. Recognizes it in his appraising, intent gaze.

He isn't someone to just take someone at their word, like most children his age.

Steve can't tell him the truth, though. From everything he's seeing now, he doesn't think Loki remembers a whole lot. Or at least, not about New York, and the invasion. If he did, surely he would recognize Steve himself.

But Loki's smart enough, the captain also thinks, that to lie to him outright would only result in him being called out.

So he settles on a half-truth.

"I know your brother. Thor." He says.

Instantly, Loki's eyes go wide, and there is at once such a wash of crushing, plain relief across his face, that it causes an ache deep within Steve's chest, his throat tightening.

The tears in the boy's eyes grow thicker, running in waves down his already wet cheeks, a wrecked, loud sob breaking from his throat.

"Th-or?" He questions brokenly through his tears. "D-do you know where m-my bb-brother is? I-I-I w-want my brother. I want my br-brother!"

The boy is crying in earnest now, and suddenly he's clinging to Steve, small hands burying and twisting in the material of the captain's shirt, staring up at him with pleading, desperate eyes.

"Please!" He begs. "Please, I… I want my brother."

Steve wasn't anticipating this reaction at all.

From everything Steve had seen and known of Loki, from every interaction with Thor, he'd assumed Loki absolutely hated his brother. That he felt no real kinship, no love or affection for him at all.

But now here he is, holding on to Steve with shaking hands, crying raggedly and begging to see Thor as though is very life were dependent upon it.

Steve wonders suddenly if it was the right to say after all.

He doesn't know where Thor is at the moment, or when he'll be coming back, and he doesn't really have any way of getting in touch with him.

But the boy in his arms is crying for him, and there is so much hope and wanting despair in Loki's small voice, that Steve feels his own eyes grow hot with it, wishing desperately he could somehow bring the boy to his big brother.

He knows right now he can't.

Thor will come back eventually. He always does. But until then, Steve's going to have to figure out how to handle this on his own.

He sighs, reaching up and placing his hands on Loki's bony shoulders, his own palms wide enough to engulf the narrow plains.

He looks the boy in the face.

"Loki, listen." He starts. "Your brother is off world right now. He's not here. But…" he hastens to add when he sees Loki's face crumple, a thick sob slipping from his lips at the news. "he'll be back soon. Alright? I promise. And as soon as he is, you'll be back with him. Alright?"

Loki's breath is coming quick and hard, chest heaving underneath the absurdly large garment which serves as his own clothing. His eyes are massive within his thin, small face, staring up at Steve with fear and hope.

"I… I have your word?" He manages after long seconds, voice quivering and weak. His hands continue to kneed and tremble in the material of Steve's shirt.

Steve nods.

"Yeah. Yes." He says. "You have my word. I promise."

And he means it.

The second he hears word of Thor being back, he's going straight to him to tell him what's going on, little of it that he knows.

His promise seems to only mildly calm the boy though, and soon Loki's hands are losing their grip on his shirt, and he's slumping down, thin arms coming up around himself in a pitiful looking hug, face turning down.

He continues to sniffle and whimper as he cries, and Steve can think of nothing to do but put his hand on the kid's back and rub what he hopes are soothing circles against it.

He tries to ignore just how easily he can feel every rib and vertebrae.

"Hey," he starts after a little while, when Loki's weeping finally seems to be slowing down, the trembling through his frame growing less pronounced. "are you hungry? I could make you something to eat if you are?"

It takes some time, but eventually, Loki lifts his face, gazing up warily at the captain.

"I… I am somewhat." He says quietly, almost as if he fears the confession will earn him some sort of punishment.

Steve only smiles broadly at him.

"Alright!" He says enthusiastically. "Come on then. Why don't you have a seat at this table and I'll cook you something up. Anything you'd like in particular? Eggs, pancakes, cereal?"

Loki looks up at him with an expression of uncertainty.

"E-eggs?" He stammers after a moment, a tone of questioning on it.

Steve continues smiling, hoping he's being encouraging.

"Eggs it is then!" He says. "Come on."

He reaches towards the boy, keeping his movements slow and obvious, and feels a rush of relief when Loki doesn't freak out as he places his hold underneath the pits of the kid's arms and pulls him gently from under the chair.

"Let's just sit you down here." He goes on, lifting Loki easily up of the floor and settling him down on the chair's seat.

Loki's so small, his feet don't even come close to reaching the floor, and his discomfort is obvious in the way he curls in on himself once more, arms wrapping about his torso and head bowing.

"Are you cold?" Steve asks, slightly concerned.

The kid's practically naked still, and he's been through so much in just the last, few hours.

Loki shakes his head.

"N-no. I… I don't really get cold." He says, voice again almost too soft to hear.

Steve smiles tightly down at him, wondering if the boy's telling the truth. Hoping he is.

"Alright." He concedes for now, reaching out and placing a gentle palm along Loki's crown, giving his hair a little tussle. "If you are though, just let me know. Hopefully a little later we can go out and get you some proper clothes."

Loki doesn't really respond to that, only seeming to curl further in on himself.

Steve sighs to himself.

Eventually, he knows, he's going to have to start asking the kid some questions. Try to figure out just what the heck is going on. How Loki got here. Just how much he remembers. All that.

For now though, he just wants to get some food in the boy and make sure he's okay.

The rest of it can wait.

/

AN: Hey guys! Wow, so, this response to this story has been crazy! And I can't thank you guys enough for your show of support and enthusiasm! It means the world to me, really. So, here's another chapter, and I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have a chance, please let me know what you thought, and thank you so much again!