Notes: I decided that the weird mix of past/present tense I had going on with this was ungodly confusing (not to mention a bastardization of the English language), so I went back and edited the previous chapters. It's all present tense now. :3


Chapter 3: Goodbye, Narnia.


Do you ever feel like the powers-that-be grabbed you by the balls and tossed you face-first into a pile of dog shit, and are watching you roll around in it while they laugh their asses off? Yeah. That's kind of how I feel right now. I mean, what gives? One moment everything's peachy, the next my entire life turns into an epic cluster fuck where nothing is as it seems; it'll never be the same again…Not that it's never happened before, my world being turned upside down. Honestly, I'm not sure if it was ever right again after the thing with the Ten Rings that spawned Iron Man.

Probably not. I guess I should get used to it. I am pregnant with the demon offspring of the God of chaos and lies...Not that I'm not a little in denial because, seriously, I do not have a vagina. Have I said that yet? I think so, but there it is again – for good measure.

Hey, maybe the gods toying with us is actually a thing. There's these goddesses Loki talks about every now and then called the Norns. Apparently they spin the threads in the tapestry of fate, or something like that. They must get their kicks from knocking up men and sending old ladies to Alcoholics Anonymous. Seriously, it sounds like they're the people that could have made Pokemon real, but were like: 'nope, have some cancer instead'.

I want their job, man. Fuck them.

Bruce said I need a lot of rest, but all I can see on the horizon is eight months of sleepless nights, and I can't even break out the Jack Daniels. I guess I could,but it's gotta take a special kind of heartless asshole to drink while pregnant.

"Sir, Doctor Banner would like to remind you that have an appointment this morning in the twelfth floor imaging suite, and he is on a tight schedule." Jarvis announces, cutting into my little pity party. "He would like to speak with Mr. Odinson as well."

"Laufeyson." Loki growls, from where he's still half asleep and pressed against my back with one arm draped over my waist. "I am not Odin's son, nor that witless oaf's brother."

Jarvis, of course, doesn't reply but I'm willing to bet he'll still call him 'Odinson'.

"Let's just get this over with so I can go break the news to everyone – then crawl in a hole somewhere and die." I gripe sarcastically, slipping out of Loki's slack grip. At least I'm not puking my guts out this morning – yet.


"Why the fuck do we even have an ultrasound machine? Is pregnancy a common side-effect of being exposed to arc reactor radiation? Is that something I should know about? You know, job hazards and all that. Pepper, why do we have an ultrasound machine, and why the hell are you even here?" I chatter, avoiding the topic that actually matters like the container of week old Chinese take-out festering in the fridge. Pepper glares at me in a combination of disgust and exasperation as I sit down on the edge of the bed near the ultrasound machine.

"I'm here because Bruce told me about this mess of yours earlier this morning. Considering I'm still the CEO of your company and responsible for taking care of anything the Avengers need, I think I have a right to be here – especially since I'm the one who does your grocery shopping. I have no idea what to feed you for the next eight months. It's not like I know what you can and can't do when you're pregnant just because I'm a woman." Pepper snaps. "Also, stop being needlessly condescending. You know ultrasounds have other applications."

I hate to admit it, but she looks great. Her reddish hair is all done up in a neat bun, and she's wearing a cute little dress that she'd never have dared to wear working for me as a personal assistant. God forbid someone thought she got her job because she was sucking my dick. Either way, she must be doing a lot better without me and our train wreck of a relationship. I'm kind of pissed that Agent (by 'Agent' I mean Phil because I still refuse to call him by his name) is trying to get in her pants, but it's not like I have any place to comment. I know I never deserved her, and I'll be damned if I'm going to give up everything that makes me who I am to make her happy. I'm too selfish for that (of course there's other reasons like all the good I do as Iron Man, but the heart of the matter just comes right back to selfishness).

"Yeah, fine, but you don't need to be in the room for this. Jarvis can give you a full report later." I retort with a little more venom than entirely necessary.

It's myself that I'm angry at when it comes to our relationship failing, but with nothing else to project it onto, I can't help but lash out at other people. Usually it's Pepper and Bruce, but lately Loki's had to put up with my shit too, probably because I see the three of them most...Either that or they're the only ones crazy enough to hang around me when I'm in a shitty mood. Although, I feel a little bad for being such an ass to Loki now because he's really taking this like a champ.

Maybe.

I think he's secretly a wreck on the inside and just doing the manly thing and being responsible for his actions...Even if he has no more of an idea how the fuck this happened than I do.

"Unfortunately, Miss Potts, Tony's right about that. You know, privacy rights..." Bruce tells Pepper with an apologetic smile. Pepper scoffs and storms to the now functioning elevator.

"On the topic of privacy rights, why does she know at all?" I whine and lean back on the bed. I stare at the ceiling pointedly as I hear Bruce sigh and sit on the edge of the bed beside me.

"I don't think Jarvis knows what the Hippocratic Oath is, because he was the one who said that you're pregnant specifically. I just told her that you would need to change your diet and work schedule due to an unforeseen medical condition." Bruce explains.

Once again, I am foiled by my own creation. Nothing new there.

"Well, before we do this, I wanted to ask you a few things if you don't mind, Loki." Bruce says to the demigod who is leaning against the wall beside me, wearing the same Black Sabbath shirt and jeans he had on last night – except now they were a little rumpled from him sleeping in them.

That probably should have been the first sign that he's not taking this as well it seems. Loki is downright anal about his appearance. He showers three times a day and has more hair care products than Pepper and Natasha combined. In other words, there's about a snowball's chance in hell of him being caught dead in wrinkly, slept-in clothes with his hair all frizzy.

"I will answer as best I can. Though, to my knowledge, this is not a normal occurrence for the Aesir or Jotnar. However, I confess I know very little of Jotunn physiology, and no male Aesir I have ever met would admit to being bedded by a man under pain of death. That is, of course, irrelevant as I am not one of the Aesir – biologically speaking, anyway." Loki explains, sounding bored, but I know him well enough to detect the hint of nerves in the tone of his voice.

"Do you have anyidea what might have caused something like this?" Bruce asks, and I finally look away from him to Loki who seems to be deep in thought.

"Bear in mind that this is merely a theory, but it could be some kind of side-effect from the magic that I used to save his life after he was sucked into the portal. What I did should not have even been possible by normal means, but perhaps his biology was altered because of it." Loki tries to tell us.

"What do you mean? What did you do?" I ask, glancing up at him. He suddenly looks very tired.

"Obviously, the first thing I did was teleport you back here; that should not have had any side effects save possible nausea, if you had been... Alive. The rest is where there is a bit of gray area, even with my knowledge of the arcane." Loki says with some trepidation.

"You were dead, actually – for about five minutes. I forced your soul back into you body, because it was not yet too late to do so...For a price, naturally. The cost, however, is no one's concern but mine. I said it should not have been possible, because I doubt any other sorcerer, god or otherwise, could wheedle Hela out of a soul. You should be thankful, I assume she probably had to bargain with a Valkyrie or two in order to return you to me."

I can only stare at him open-mouthed. Bruce takes his glasses off and polishes them on his shirt as a distraction from the fact that he obviously is at a loss. I can't blame him – the whole thing is pretty much shitting on the laws of medicine, physics, and mainstream religion all in one go. Still, a zombie chick (if I remember correctly) and a hot war maiden fighting over my soul? Yeah, that sounds about right. The great Tony Stark is always irresistible, apparently even when I'm dead.

I think hard about it before I finally have the balls to ask: "So how could that make me able to bear children? How exactly does someone come back from the dead?" Both Bruce and I pin our eyes on him as he answers.

"I do not know how it could have changed you; my mother might, or at least between the two of us, we may be able to arrive at a viable hypothesis. However, I have no way to speak to her as my probation does not allow me to leave this realm." Bruce and I somehow have the tact to let it go when Loki stops talking, obviously not willing to discuss the mechanics of divine resurrection – or whatever the fuck he did.

I feel like hearing this shit should bother me a little, but somehow it doesn't. I guess that magic, just like Loki, does whatever the hell it wants; and I probably gave up trying to understand it a while ago. I guess death doesn't scare me much anymore, considering some of the shit I've gotten into.

I sort of forgot about the fact that Loki isn't allowed to leave earth, or Midgard (whatever), until he makes amends to our people. I'm not sure how Odin thinks he's capable of making up for almost two thousand deaths and billions of dollars in property damage, but he is trying; I'll give him that. What's even more amazing is the fact that Fury and SHIELD are not only letting him, but helping him. Then again, if Loki hadn't turned on the Chitauri I highly doubt anything could have stopped them.

"Can Thor ask her?" I can almost feel Loki tense up as Bruce suggests it.

"No." Loki says icily. "He would not understand the answer, much less the questions he would need to ask."

There's more to it, though. I can tell. He mentioned that it cost him something to save me, my guess would be that he doesn't want Thor to know what that is. I won't lie; that's freaking me out a bit. Loki's not the bad guy, I don't think, but he sure as hell isn't a hero. Not that I can judge, because I wouldn't call myself a hero either – not even by a stretch of the imagination.

"My mother." Loki repeats, obviously tired of the tedious conversation. "If Thor can bring her here, perhaps she could help. If there is anyone in Asgard who knows anything about Frost Giant physiology, it is her. That is, of course, assuming that my heritage even has anything at all to do with this. The only thing I know about the Jotnar is that many of them are shapeshifters and can bear children in a female form."

"We'll look into that, then." Bruce says. "For now, I really am on a tight schedule, so let's get this over with. You can leave if you want, Loki." The trickster shakes his head and stands near me in a way that can only possibly be described as somewhere between protective and possessive, that clearly states his refusal to leave.

"What does that mean? That crap in the old Norse legends about you having monsters for kids is true?" I ask, eyes wide as Bruce sets up the ultrasound machine.

Loki has an odd, hurt look in his eyes when he answers. "Some of it."

I don't press the subject. Loki has a habit of doing what Loki wants, that includes not talking about something until either he's good and ready, or everyone has just plain forgotten about it. Sadly, it's usually the latter, but like I've said a hundred times already, Loki and I don't do the whole pity party and tedious emotional discussion thing. Maybe we should, though. I'm beginning to think that having someone to listen to his story, without judging him, might be enough to shake the crazy cats out of the bag for good.

The ultrasound completely destroys what little doubt there was to be had concerning my condition. Of course it's too early to really see much, but there's definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, a tiny person growing inside of me. Though, we're no closer to knowing how it got there – or how it would be possible for it to get out without surgery.

After leaving the Med lab, the morning sickness comes back in full force the second I step into the elevator with Bruce and Loki on the way to the lounge. Of course, I just manage to make a beeline for the bathroom, painfully aware of everyone's eyes on me, and by everyone, I mean everyone: Pepper, Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Steve are all gathered around the table having pancakes and coffee.

When did Thor came came back from fairyland anyway?

"So, what the hell was that about?" I hear Clint asking Bruce and Loki who made uneasy eye contact as I drag myself out of the bathroom after a rather vicious fit of dry heaves. Of course it was dry heaves, I can hardly look at food without without gagging. I clear my throat and wait until I have everyone's attention.

"Well, I guess this is where I say goodbye to Narnia, because I don't think I can pull off hiding in the closet anymore. I won't fit in there soon, anyway." I ramble and pull at the sleeve of the black button-down shirt I'm wearing distractedly. Clint snickers into his coffee and Natasha smacks him before giving me a look that's equal parts annoyance and concern. That's the thing about Natasha: nothing gets by her. Ever. It is entirely possible that she was partly serious when she'd started the whole joke about me being pregnant the morning before.

"What is this Narnia that you speak of, Man of Iron?" Thor asks, raising his eyebrows. It's Loki's turn to chuckle under his breath. The trickster has developed quite a love for classic literature, and for once, actually understood one of my random pop-culture references.

"Nevermind, Thor. You wouldn't get it anyway." I say sheepishly. "Well, the thing is... almost everyone in this room is going to know what I'm talking about so… I'll just say that Natasha's theory was right, and yeah... you can all talk about that while I -"...Run to the bathroom again and curl up on the floor in front of the toilet as I debate whether morning sickness is shittier than a hangover.

The consensus is yes; it is shittier than a hangover.

A lot shittier.

Hangovers tend to go away when there's nothing left to puke up. Well, mostly...Not so much after drinking enough scotch to kill an elephant. Details. Anyway...

When I come back out, everyone is standing around looking like somebody just died – except Bruce, who gently shoves me into the big squishy leather armchair in front of the TV, and thrusts a cup of tea into my hands. It reeks of mint. I wrinkle my nose and hold it at an arm's length. Bruce just rolls his eyes.

"I hate mint." I whine, immediately cursing myself as I recall Natasha catching me with the mint ice cream the other day. Which, if I remember right, was fucking delicious.

"Drink it slowly, it'll help with the nausea." Bruce elaborates, ignoring me. "I have to go. Tony is not to have more than one cup of coffee and absolutely no alcohol. Also, preferably no junk food, but if he can keep it down let it be for today."

Turning to me, he adds, "I'll have a proper list of food that's safe for you when I'm done at the clinic. I'll try to skate out early. Try to avoid stress and get plenty of rest, too."

With that, Bruce leaves us. I can't blame him for the swift exit, he's already half an hour late for his job at the clinic. I fidget a bit and take a sip of the tea as I try to ignore everyone's eyes practically burning holes into me. Steve is the first to make a sound, clearing his throat loudly.

"Pancakes, Tony?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah, sure. Worst case scenario pancakes have to taste better coming back up than mint ice cream and pickles, right?" I mutter. Thankfully, my sarcasm has its usual effect of breaking the tense atmosphere, and results in both Pepper and Thor snickering quietly. Thor would know, after the drinking contest we had when he got back from taking the Tesseract to Asgard. We even had a joke about whose hangover was shittier. Quality male bonding, that. I can't see Steve or Loki from where I'm sitting, but I can imagine them both rolling their eyes and shaking their heads in exasperation.

"Man of Iron, how did this come to be? As I recall Midgardian males cannot bear children." Thor asks and sits on the couch adjacent to me as he fixes me with a searching glance. Thor is by no means the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's terrifyingly perceptive.

"Uh, I have literally no idea, and neither does the father." I say, shrugging.

"Yeah, so, were you planning to enlighten us as to who that is?" Natasha inquires, sitting next to Thor. I can practically feel the tension in Loki's body as he comes to stand beside me and rests his hand on my shoulder.

"I am responsible for that." He says barely above a whisper. "Somehow."