The world presented itself by degrees in shades of grey and black. A white glare overhead met the harsh corners of the walls around him, casting shadows long and deep. The scattered breaks in his vision turned out not to be physiological, but mere rain. Slowly he became aware of his physical self, lying in a puddle on the ground.

The first breath he took was a mixture of pain and relief. The movement nudged the injury in his back; the oxygen spread through his limbs like a calming shroud. At least the rain was cool. It made a disorienting contrast with the dissipating heat of the pavement against his back. Pavement.

Right.

Midgard. Earth.

Like a pale automaton, he sat up to take in the surroundings. The walls were those of buildings. The glare overhead was a flickering street lamp. Early evening was giving way to night in the fading glow of the clouds overhead. He sat in a puddle in tattered black tunic, pants, and boots in an alleyway. A dumpster loomed in the gloom to his left, a pile of trash and a rotting crate huddled next to it.

As his brain stumbled its way back to the semblance of working capacity, his temper began to rise. Odin had actually done it, had stranded him on a hostile planet with no protection against the local populace or whatever may come from beyond.

Prince of Asgard? Son of Odin? Folly. What son of Odin would be subject such conditions? What prince would be treated in such a manner? What son…?

Loki staggered to his feet. Probably a mistake, this, as his vision swam alarmingly, but rise he did. The blood in his face drained to his toes, but he stayed upright. The mortal body he had been cursed with cried for rest. He cast a baleful eye on the dripping clouds above him, breathing heavily. A leer revealed his teeth, and he shook a fist at the sky.

"You old fool! Your silly punishment will see me dead before you ever have the pleasure of seeing it work."

As much as his penchant for the dramatic would prefer a stirring monologue, his body had decided that it had had enough. The wobbling in his knees was the only warning before he found himself sitting once more in the puddle, hands resting in the grimy water and world trying to spin itself off its axis across his eyes.

Loki swore. Something like fear, he wasn't entirely sure, was fighting with the fatigue to get him back to his feet. An image of Chitauri assassins falling upon him like hounds upon a cornered fox lodged itself in the forefront of his mind. Swearing still, he rolled onto his knees and once more fought to his feet. With no magic, he could not shield himself. Heimdall wouldn't even have to squint now to find him.

He had limped his way down the alley and was nearing the busy street on the other side when a snapping sound came from behind him, followed by a brief wind that blew his wet hair into his face. The narrow alleyway disappeared into another scene entirely, an otherworldly view of the glittering expanse of space. A shudder escaped from his frame – magic. Even powerless he could feel it tingling in his fingers.

"Loki Laufeyson," a voice behind him said. Loki turned slowly around.

"I am the son of no one," he replied, aiming a chilly glare at the shrouded being standing in the shadow of a rocky dial. "Or have you forgotten?"

Bravado. Sheer bravado.

The Other had found him.

If Chitauri laughed, Loki decided that he would not enjoy hearing it, and thankfully the Other did not provide fodder for his nightmares. Amusement, though, seemed to wrinkle the sharp-toothed hole that was the alien's mouth as it stepped evenly towards Loki.

"You've failed him, Asgardian. I warned you of the consequences."

"That you did, but I do happen to be in a bit of a situation at the moment. I beg the Titan's indulgence to allow me some time before his ever-so justifiable wrath falls upon my poor head."

Even from thousands of leagues away the Other's presence rippled the atmosphere with disapproval. It sent a wave of uneasiness through Loki's toes. He had two options: fight or flight. Fighting was out of the question. Flight would be just as difficult. He swore inwardly.

"Your silver tongue still wags, but in futility."

The Other was now nose to nose with him, more or less. Loki blinked rapidly to keep the wavering image clear and the wobbling in his knees to a minimum. "You have lied to us. You have failed us. You must face justice."

"Justice?" Loki laughed. A day of supremely disappointed authoritative figures continually unruffled by Loki's words, this. Not a good day.

The Other shook its head. "Your impudence is insulting." Its large and disjointed fingers shot up to plant their tips on Loki's forehead. It was like being slapped with a shield.

Loki staggered backwards out of the illusion, tripping and falling once more. When he lifted his head, the illusion had vanished. The contents of the revelation were much less disturbing than what it left behind.

A Chitauri stood at the ready in the center of the alley, a set of curved and wicked-looking knives at its waist and one of their energy rifles in its hand. The Other's voice ricocheted inside Loki's head.

"When your glorious conquest began to fail, this one was ordered to stay behind."

"Scouting out the competition?"

"Meet your executioner, Son of No One."

A surge of adrenaline barely managed to get Loki scrambling away before a ball of lethal energy shattered the asphalt where he had been sitting. As he lurched to his feet, a knife edged in red whizzed by his ear and sank into the iron shell of a dumpster. Thankfully his decreased motor skills seemed to help him evade as he teetered to the right to put a stack of boxes between him and any projectiles.

The noise of cars and people walking by was only so many steps away. Another knife flew by overhead as he ducked instinctively, arms shielding his face. He could hear the heavy steps of the Chitauri behind him. Would the alien risk showing itself to the humans? Were it Loki holding the weapons, he would not particularly care, but after such an overwhelming defeat, he wondered if the Other would consider exposing its one assassin to the denizens of Earth.

As it turned out, he was lucky. Loki shot out from the alley and straight across the busy street without realizing it. Only angry voices and the blaring of horns followed him. He managed to dodge most of the cars until he clipped one with a hip in the opposite lane. From his vantage point on the ground, he spotted a yellow vehicle stopped on the far side of the road. A lit sign on the top of it read 'vacant.'

Scrambling back to his feet, he tripped over to the car, yanked open the door, and clambered in just as somebody else was getting in on the opposite side.

"Hey, buddy, this car's occupied!"

He looked up, breathing heavily, at the burly driver jerking a thumb over his shoulder. There was indeed somebody sitting in the back seat next to him – an elegant-looking woman with red hair pulled back into a formal bun. She watched him, eyebrows high, with a mildly surprised look on her face. Loki's eyes darted between the two humans a moment before he recovered his voice.

"My apologies." He cleared his throat. "I've had a devil of time finding one of these tonight, particularly after the loss of my umbrella." He shot a furtive glance once more at the woman. "By all means, please address the lady's destination. I don't mind waiting."

The driver eyed him, noting no doubt his odd clothes, accent, and the fact that he was dripping from the rain. "It's your call, Miss Potts," he said, looking at the woman.

Pepper Potts. Loki kept his expression neutral, turning his gaze on the woman, as well. Pepper Potts, the Iron Man's associate. Thankfully he had had the foresight to pump Agent Barton for information on the Avengers and their respective connections. After choosing Stark Tower for the place of the portal, he had done significant amounts of research on the structure. Miss Potts's name had been listed as a contributor.

"I would be entirely in your debt," he said slowly, smiling hopefully. It proved contagious; Pepper's smile was lovely.

"It doesn't seem like you're from around here, so I don't mind at all," she replied evenly. "Stark Tower, please."

"You got it," the driver said skeptically, mumbling to himself as he put the car in drive.

The first few moments of the drive were silent. Loki looked at his hands, digging some dirt out from under one of his fingernails. What fortuitous circumstance be this? The Chitauri had forced him into a vehicle that would be taking him straight to Stark Tower. Had he struggled his way out on his own with no extrinsic motivation other than not liking alleyways, he might have missed the taxi entirely. And Pepper seemed blessedly ignorant of who he was. Maybe in such a state he was more or less hard to recognize. Well, at least to the average citizen.

"I really must thank you, Miss Potts, for allowing me to share the ride," he found himself saying. "It's been a…long night."

"It's no trouble," she replied, folding her slim hands over the black portfolio on her lap. "It certainly looks like you've had a tough time."

Loki chuckled. "An understatement, perhaps."

Pepper did have a lovely smile, easily identifiable as genuine. "If you don't mind me asking…" Her voice faded as her smile did. Loki's heart skipped a beat. "Oh my goodness, you're bleeding!" she declared, putting a hand on his shoulder, eyes on the seatback.

"Bleeding…?" He craned to look where she pointed and did indeed find that the seatback behind his shoulder was red. "Oh, damn. Look at that." That semi-hysterical laugh escaped out of his mouth for a moment before he smothered it. The Chitauri must have landed a hit with one of the knives, only to have dislodged when Loki ran into that other vehicle.

The driver's eyes reflected back at them in the rearview mirror. "Whoa, jeez! You're screwin' up my seats! You want I should go to a hospital or somethin'?"

Loki waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, it's not a problem," he began, wondering why he hadn't noticed it. What was that human condition? Shock? Maybe that was it. "It doesn't look so bad."

"We have a medical bay at Stark Tower," Pepper suggested. "It's closer than the local hospital, and you wouldn't have to worry about waiting."

"Miss Potts, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking. I'm offering."

Loki smiled again. "You're much too kind." A night of misfortune into one of opportunity. Stark Tower was likely rife with research materials. The Foster Theory was one he was particularly interested in, and Stark no doubt had his fingers in that information like he did with nearly everything regarding S.H.I.E.L.D. and Thor.

Pepper's face was a mask of incredulity. "It's really the least I can do. I mean…" Her eyes darted back to the red stain on the seat. "What happened?" she breathed.

He forced a wry chuckle, running a hand through his wet and bedraggled hair to get it out of his face. "I'm not entirely sure…" Lies would last only until Stark saw him. If Stark saw him. "It happened rather fast. A mugging, I suppose."

Pepper tisked, taking her hand from his shoulder. "You'd think after what happened a few weeks back would have made an impression or something, but I guess New York will always be New York."

"You mean the attack?" he asked casually, leaning his elbow on the armrest. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, he noticed, and a heaviness was settling over his eyelids. Pepper nodded much like people do when speaking of tragic events.

"Yeah."

After a beat of silence, she spoke again, extending a hand to him. "Pepper Potts, as you heard."

Loki looked from her hand to her face. Either he had lost his ability to read faces – unlikely – or Pepper Potts was one of the more genuine people he had encountered of late. Her posture indicated confidence and sincerity. Given her vocation, professionalism must come naturally for her, also indicated by the flawlessness of her garb and hair.

What a breath of fresh air. He did not have to expect wry comments or condescension or disrespect or suspicion or hate.

He took her hand with a wan smile, relaxing only just. "A pleasure, Miss Potts. I do believe I've heard of you."

She laughed; it was pleasant. "Many more people than I expected to have. And you?"

Without hesitation, Loki replied, "Donald Blake."

The drive to Stark Tower took longer than usual, as the massive reconstruction efforts of the city around the tower were still going on. Loki relished the murky glimpses he got of the destruction through the rain. The Leviathans were certainly good at what they did.

The taxi driver drove away a couple hundred dollars richer; Pepper insisted on paying for the reparation of the seat. She kept her hand in the crook of Loki's elbow as they approached the door, not failing to notice how he steadied himself on the taxi when they got out. Regardless, she chatted with him lightly, asking where he was from, what brought him to New York, but never giving up any information that was truly pertinent herself. She was a very careful woman, too, it seemed. The answers slipped off his tongue as easily as slitting throats – some nonsense about traveling from London, England in the pursuit of a job offer for a skilled accountant. He did know a little bit about Earth.

He held the umbrella as they walked up to the tower; Pepper was about five inches shorter than he was and bending to accommodate for it was painful. She paused at the door to swipe her security card through a scanner.

The reception area was deceptively neat; Loki had noticed the renovations going on in the upper levels of the tower. He hid his smirk. He also noticed that the large Stark logo had more or less been destroyed; only the A remained.

Pepper retrieved the umbrella from him, shaking the water off it onto the floor. Suddenly a disembodied voice echoed around them.

"Good evening, Miss Potts, I see you have a visitor."

"Evening, Jarvis," Pepper returned easily. Loki allowed himself to glance around in mild surprise.

"Cameras and a microphone?" he queried, turning an idle eye into the darkened corners of the room.

"No, Jarvis is a computer program," Pepper replied.

"Indeed," the clipped, English voice added. "I'll inform Mr. Stark that you've arrived."

"Have him meet me in the medical ward."

"Very good, ma'am."

"A computerized butler. How very appropriate for the likes of Tony Stark," Loki said as Pepper turned him towards two sliding metal doors that must lead to an elevator. He allowed her to lead; his head was beyond swimming at this point. And it looked like he would be encountering Stark, the Iron Man, again. His mouth curved upwards in an anticipatory smile.

...

AN: I've never had such a response, so many, many thanks to all the folks who added this to their alerts and favorites and my lovely reviewers. Get ready to tag along on something of a wild ride as I attempt to make a plot out of some midnight musings. As always, constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged!