The Long Way Home

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Disclaimer: I own neither anything related to Doctor Who nor Marvel. All canon characters belong to their respective owners. Any OCs belong to me.

Pairings: Eventual Lokane, Sif/Thor, mild Jane/OMC, Jane/Thor, Fandral/Darcy.

Chapter Playlist: 'Gallifrey' from 'Doctor Who: the Specials', 'Lokasenna' from 'Thor: the Dark World', 'Science and Magic' from 'Thor' and 'Into Eternity' from 'Thor: the Dark World'.

Education Committee for the Academy of Time Lords and Ladies of Gallifrey

Committee Room 52, the Capitol, Gallifrey

This meeting of the Committee was dragging on. They'd been going for three days without rest, discussing each candidate from each Academy intensely, deciding which would require remedial instruction and which could graduate and receive the Imprimatur.

Time Lords needed little sleep, but even for such an advanced race, Caerlan was beginning to flag. Thankfully, they were near the end. Just a handful of candidates left to discuss.

All three were students of his, as close to his hearts as it was possible to become for Time Lords, and he felt a slight twinge of apprehension as he regarded the others on the committee. Many were members of the conservative faction, and even those who supported the Lady President were cautious about the off-worlders. Most had been sent for more remedial instruction, and would not be able to graduate this year. The only two left were Loki and Akeeta. Talia's Gallifreyan birth had ensured her graduation, even though she was the highest scoring native student in her class anyway.

Caerlan had had his doubts when the off-worlders had arrived. Many had fallen by the wayside, proving Romana's critics right seemingly, but Akeeta and Loki had shown incredible promise from the outset. Akeeta showed immense technical skill and her innovations in cybernetics were already being touted as revolutionary. It would be a crime to discount her merely for her origins.

Loki's mysterious origins and considerable mental anguish had worried Caerlan when he had first met him, but he had blossomed into a worthy candidate for elevation to Time Lord status. His theories on the manipulation of cosmic energies made for impressive and engrossing reading. Yet…there was something there, in the glint in his eye, the curve of his smile that made Caerlan unconsciously wary. His prowess in telepathy, most especially telepathic blocking, made Caerlan wonder exactly what he was hiding, what darkness he buried away from the light of day. He reminded him too much of two other Time Lords he had taught during their Academy days, both brilliant, both outcasts, both rebels. They had yet to see which one Loki would emulate.

Oh, he had no doubt Loki had no intention of remaining on Gallifrey. He might walk the walk and talk the talk, as the Terran saying went, but he was not Gallifreyan. And Caerlan knew his future did not lie there.

Which was why he said nothing of his private concerns as the committee discussed Akeeta briefly before reluctantly approving her graduation and elevation to Time Lady. Then it was Loki's turn.

"Now we come to the final candidate from the Prydonian Academy. Loki of Asgard," the Lord Provost murmured.

"The Lady President's pet project," the Lord Recorder sneered. Caerlan felt annoyance rise, before remembering that the Lord Recorder had been one of the most vociferous detractors of Romana's reforms. It was one of the few times he came out of whatever deep, useless, contemplations he usually immersed himself in.

"What are his scores?" the Lord Principal asked, ignoring the outburst, as he turned to the members of the Prydonian Academy present, Co-ordinator of Studies Sarvana and Caerlan himself.

Sarvana straightened in her seat, her voice clear and cold. "In Temporal Technology, he came top of his class. His grasp of theory is sound and his application in practical situations is unparalleled. He was beaten in Quasitronics only by his associate Akeeta. Overall, he scored full marks. In mathematics, law, cybernetics, history, languages, art and architecture he has proven himself more than proficient, indeed nearly a prodigy. In his final examinations, he achieved full marks once more."

The Time Lady paused, and Caerlan roused himself, taking the hint to involve himself further. "I personally instructed Loki in piloting, temporal mechanics, thermodynamics and telepathy. In all areas, he has shown exceptional skill," he began. "He has passed all his classes with the highest marks, a feat few experienced Time Lords and Ladies achieved in their time at the Academy. I do not see how he can be barred from his right to the Rassilon Imprimatur."

"It is not a right, Lord Caerlan," the Lord Provost said sharply. Privately, Caerlan suspected this conversation would not be happening if Loki had been Gallifreyan. They had already passed far less promising candidates on the basis of their Gallifreyan origins. "And I notice neither of you have said anything of his conduct or character."

Caerlan sighed. Here came the rub.

Sarvana frowned as she spoke, carefully. "It is true he has been…a disruptive influence during his time at the Academy. His brilliance has, at times, been directed in an improper way. But his promise and intellect cannot be diminished by a few mischievous pranks."

"If he were Gallifreyan, we would be safer," the Lord Recorder suddenly spoke up again. "He is an outsider, a dangerous off-world influence. In his first year alone, he injured two Gallifreyan students after a friendly joke-"

"I would hardly call defending a friend from a few bullies a result of 'friendly joking'," Caerlan interrupted him coldly, remembering the report of the incident.

"I have read the reports of Loki's conduct," the Lord Principal intervened before an argument could start. "Regardless of the cause, he did not show appropriate detachment in that circumstance. We all know the story of his arrival here, and the origin of which, the Lady President still refuses to explain. He carries a burden of mental anguish within him that he refuses to allow others to repair, and that makes him unpredictable. Dangerous. We do not want another Master running around the Vortex."

Caerlan's hearts sank at those words, unknowingly echoing his own fears. Nonetheless, he tried to fight for his student's future. "Lord Principal, I do not believe either you or other members of this committee are being fair to the boy. Yes, he has some undesirable character traits, but those do not detract from his achievements, or what he could accomplish in the future!" he replied coolly, trying not to let his anger show in his voice. That would not help his cause.

"What he may accomplish is exactly what I fear, Lord Caerlan," the Lord Principal replied gravely. The Lord Recorder shot him a triumphant sneer, as Caerlan silently fumed.

But he would not give up. The argument raged on.

The Great Hall of the Panopticon, Gallifrey

Loki paced the empty hall, arms folded tightly over his chest so the leather of his tunic creaked in protest. It had been three days since Akeeta and Talia had both learned of their elevation to full Time Ladies. He was the last to be discussed and still there was no word.

Romana and Brax could be of little help. The Education Committee was secretive about their deliberations, and no one had been let out of that room where they were still deliberating. They put on a brave face for him, but he was far too versed in deception not to know when they were trying to deceive him. It did not look good.

Loki knew his scores were exceptional; there could be no dissent on that front. That could not be the reason they were still arguing his case. Lial, for Valhalla's sake, had graduated and he had placed in the bottom 20% of the class! No, Loki knew what the delay was. What the delay always was, always had been.

His origins.

In Asgard, it had been because of his true birth. Known only to Odin and Frigga, nonetheless, the All-Father had been slow to trust his adopted son and the people followed suit. And now, the fact of his non-Gallifreyan origins was proving to be an obstacle in his ascension to the rank of Time Lord. Loki wondered if he was destined never to be fully trusted, never to fully belong. He wondered if he would even care if that was the case, if it were not for the fact that the success of his plan hinged on being granted the Rassilon Imprimatur.

The sting of the insult he felt, he ignored. He could not afford to let his emotions rule him, not this time. His wounded pride would have to wait.

But how to prove himself to the Education Committee? His close association with Brax and Romana had proved to be no help, if anything they were a hindrance to him, as the Committee was mostly made up of Romana's critics and they still operated a degree of autonomy from the central government of Gallifrey. Turning against his benefactors would prove useless; it wasn't his test scores that were the problem. He couldn't change his origins.

Without the Rassilon Imprimatur, his knowledge of time travel and piloting would be for naught. He would disintegrate into the time stream within seconds of dematerialisation. He couldn't even reverse-engineer the Imprimatur; such a feat would take centuries and the Gallifreyans kept their genetic secrets closely and jealously guarded against such an eventuality. Everything depended on the decision of the Education Committee.

As he paced, he became aware of someone watching him from the shadows of the Panopticon. He recognised the aura of power surrounding his watcher immediately.

In the few days since the Doctor had arrived, he'd spent most of it closeted with Brax and Romana, discussing some mission the High Council had sent him on. Apparently, it hadn't ended well.

But Loki couldn't forget the power he'd sensed behind the man's deceptively kind blue eyes and buffoonish demeanour. The lectures and the stories, half-whispered as if speaking too loudly would summon the demon himself, of a powerful, cunning warrior, all but godlike himself, hiding behind the veneer of a friendly, eccentric traveller, coloured his view considerably. And he couldn't ignore what his preternatural senses had been screaming at him since the moment they met. This man was part of his destiny, his urdr, though whether he was to be his doom or his salvation, Loki could not know. He did not possess his mother's gifts.

"I know you're there," he called quietly, tired of being observed. "There are not many people who can sneak up on me and you are not one of them."

"Now now, no need to so tetchy," the floppy-haired Doctor replied as he stepped into the light. "I understand you're having some difficulties with the Education Committee."

"No doubt, they hope to delay my ascension to deal a political blow to Romana," Loki inclined his head, as he stopped pacing and turned to face the approaching Time Lord, hands folded behind his back. "In any case, what can I do for you?"

The Doctor stopped and watched him piercingly, evoking the urge to fidget in Loki, an urge he had not indulged since childhood. It angered him but he kept still under the Doctor's intense gaze, but it was not the stillness of the co-operative innocent, it was the stillness of a threatened predator watching to see if and when he should strike.

The Doctor recognised it as easily as he recognised the illusory façade the Asgardian wore as his skin. Romana had told him of the boy's origins, but even he guessed she had not told him everything. He hadn't pressed her, appreciating her tact in not betraying Loki's secrets without his permission. It was almost human of her.

He'd only returned to Gallifrey to inform them of the Master's death and give his old friend a piece of his mind at being sent on so idiotic a mission. His regeneration had been a particularly difficult one this time, he'd stayed dead for almost too long. His mind was still a little scrambled, from the chaos that had erupted, thanks to the Master.

This new version of him was far more psychic, to use the archaic term, than his previous selves. He'd sensed the boy's anguish and darkness the moment their eyes met, and it made him wary. With his dark looks and mischievous intelligence, it reminded him all too easily of…but it would do no good to think of the past. The Doctor shook the unnerving observation aside determinedly.

"Romana told me of her suspicions," he confessed, at Loki's question. "Concerning your plight. Being seen as her protégé hasn't done you any favours."

"Clearly," Loki drawled sarcastically. "Look, no offence meant, Doctor but I am really in no mood for pithy conversation."

To his surprise, the Doctor didn't bristle or seem angered by his bluntness. He laughed.

Hmm. I surmise the blunt approach doesn't just work for Thor…

"No, I would imagine you're not. Doddery old fools, the Education Committee," the Doctor continued, regardless, once he regained control of his mirth. "Took three weeks to approve my graduation. A record in the history of the Academy."

"You'll pardon me if I don't try to equal or best that record," Loki replied, amused despite himself. He sighed tiredly. "I have done all I could. I have applied myself stringently to their academic regime and even discovered new depths to their oldest theorems. I have subsumed myself entirely into Gallifreyan culture, all but erased any thought of my past. What else can I do?"

The Doctor bent a piercing look on Loki. "Oh, I don't think that's quite true, is it? Loki Odinson? Or is it Laufeyson?"

Loki stiffened at that hated name, and if looks could have killed, the Doctor would have been long dead. He merely chuckled, and waved a hand at Loki.

"Come now, if death glares worked on me, the Daleks would have succeeded in exterminating me centuries ago. And that's not to mention Romana," he joked.

"I did not think Romana one to so easily break confidences," Loki said stiffly, a feeling of betrayal welling inside him.

"Oh, pish posh! Romana was as tight-lipped as a Judoon in regards to your parentage. This version of me is the most…attuned to the intricacies of Time I've been in centuries. I sensed your darkness the moment we met, and Romana did not think to guard her mind so closely against me at first," the Doctor explained. "Do not fear. I do not know your whole story and see no need at present to know anymore. But you might consider that darkness you carry is one of the sticking points for the Educational Committee of Old Duffers in there."

"We all carry darkness, Doctor. Even those old…duffers on the Educational Committee. They deny it, dress it up as merely the game of politics and duty, but it is there regardless. Not even you, no especially you, Doctor, is immune to the darkness," Loki retorted heatedly, losing his temper. He wasn't enjoying this interrogation.

"And there is another sticking point," the Doctor pointed out coolly, his blue eyes riveted on Loki's angry features. He hadn't lost control such as now in centuries, until this aggravating creature. "You haven't fully embraced Gallifrey. You remain detached, an outsider, a rebel. You see through their hypocrisy instead of merely accepting it as gospel, and worse yet, you are extraordinarily perceptive. They fear what you may become, Loki, what use you will put your intellect and your gifts to. The question is, do they have a point there?"

Loki calmed at that question, feeling a chill flow through him. He could sense his Jotunn self close to the surface, and it took tangible effort to force it back down. That was not him. The monster was not him.

"I do not know," he said, finally. His face turned thoughtful as he looked out at the setting suns. "But I do know I am capable of both evil and good, Doctor, as others would define them. I do not want to be a monster."

"What do you want?" the Doctor asked, and from his position turned away from the Time Lord, Loki did not see the thoughtful sorrow in his perceptive gaze.

"To be free," Loki whispered. Silence fell, as Loki braced himself for a lecture, or even scorn but there was none.

"Fair enough," the Doctor suddenly barked, making Loki startle for the first time in five hundred years as he clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll put in a word for you with the Committee."

"With all due respect, Doctor," Loki muttered, "I doubt that would help my cause. You are not exactly regarded as an upstanding example of Time Lord detachment. They even teach a class on you at the Academy."

"Do they now? Ha!" the Doctor laughed delightedly, clapping his hands together. "But that's exactly why what I have in mind will work."

And with that, the Doctor turned on his heel and marched off, leaving a dumbstruck Loki in his wake, mouth agape. "He's a complete lunatic," he whispered, uneasily wondering just what the Doctor was up to.

Hallway outside Committee Room 52, the Capitol, Gallifrey

The assessment meeting has just adjourned for a meeting of the High Council when the Doctor arrived. All political members of the Committee had already left to attend, leaving only Sarvana, Caerlan and the Lord Principal in deep, tense discussion.

From the looks of it, Sarvana and Caerlan were fighting the hardest, and they were losing.

The Doctor knew the Lord Principal of old, when he'd been a young lecturer at the Prydonian Academy and had instructed him in Old High Gallifreyan. Now he was the Lord Principal. How time had flown…

He just thanked Rassilon he hadn't caught the Lord Provost. Now that would have been a challenge.

"Ahh, Lord Principal," he called out jovially, making all three Time Lords turn to him. Puzzlement lit Caerlan's features while Sarvana was as cool and blank as ever. The Lord Principal just looked harried. "How wonderful to see you again! And what a coincidence!"

"Greetings, Doctor," the Lord Principal sighed wearily. "It is not often that you return to Gallifrey. What unhappy chance drew you back here?"

"A report to the Lady President," he replied with a winning smile, nevertheless all three Time Lords sensed his wish not to discuss it further.

"Let us hope a happy chance will take you away again," Sarvana quipped, making them all chuckle. "You spoke of coincidence, Doctor?"

"Ah yes!" the Doctor rolled his eyes. "I assume you've just come from the Education Committee meetings? I was just having the most boring, textbook conversation with one of your candidates. What do you teach them at the Academy these days?!"

"Oh? Which candidate?" the Lord Principal wheezed. Realisation lit Caerlan's eyes, as the Doctor flashed a warning look his way before replying.

"Oh…what was his name? Lanky? Lucky?" he continued amiably. "Something odd. Anyway, wouldn't stop going on about the Web of Time and a Time Lord's obligations. Really, I've never met a more utterly boring, staid candidate…"

"His name is Loki," the Lord Principal interrupted him, before glancing at Sarvana and Caerlan. "Leave us. Come walk with me, Doctor."

The Doctor could feel Caerlan and Sarvana's speculative stares on his back as the Lord Principal and he walked a little way away.

"Let us speak candidly, Doctor," the older Time Lord began. "You know how I hate riddles."

"I always wondered why you enjoyed Old High Gallifreyan so much then," the Doctor joked. The ancient language of the Time Lords was intricate and deceptive as any word game. "You know why I've come."

"Yes. Despite your ham-fisted attempt to pretend otherwise, I know you're championing the boy," the Lord Principal replied sternly, yet there was a twinkle in his ancient eyes as he regarded his former student. He turned sombre as he spoke next. "He is a danger, Doctor. He is filled with anguish, hatred and rage. He merely plays at detachment and duty for his own ends. If we release him into the Universe, who knows' what trouble he could instigate?"

"Or…he might not," the Doctor pointed out. "Yes, he's got a few issues. Ok, more than a few. Possibly most like a galaxy-full…"

"Doctor…" the Lord Principal sighed wearily.

"The point is, Lord Principal, that so do we all. And they do not make us whole. They do not make us entirely who we are. Loki has the capacity to be a monster but he also has the capacity to do something extraordinary. And if nothing else, he deserves the chance to prove himself one way or the other," the Doctor concluded, his coolly amicable tone giving way to its usual impetuous passion, rising slightly in volume. The Lord Principal stood silently for a few moments, once again staring down his old student who resisted the urge to fidget restlessly.

Then he smiled. "I always said you should have gone into politics, Doctor," he murmured. "You always had a way with words."

"Don't insult me," the Doctor smiled, fondly. "And you wonder why I left, all those years ago."

The Lord Principal chuckled once, before growing stern once more. "Doctor, if we are wrong about this, then billions of lives will be on our shoulders."

"If we are wrong, then we are simply wrong," the Doctor replied solemnly. "But if we are right…then that is worth any risk."

Three Days Later

The Untempered Schism

The wind whipped the robes of the Time Lord candidates amassed on the hillside, all draped in the colours of their Chapter. A small group of Time Lords and Ladies, including Lady President Romana and the High Council, and those graduating Time Lords who were of Gallifreyan birth, and so had already looked into the Untempered Schism, watched from the sides. Loki knew that Talia was among them, her golden hair restrained into a braided bun, darkened into silver by the dark crimson night.

Ahead of them awaited the Schism. They had not been permitted to ask the Gallifreyan students of what they might see once they looked inside, but Loki had read enough, and heard enough, to know it was a perilous venture. Some had even been driven mad by it.

But it was the final barrier. The final obstacle to his freedom, and Loki knew he would not shy away from this test. Ahead of him, one initiate collapsed to his knees while the two attending Time Lords held him steady. He shook and whimpered, his eyes wide. Nevertheless, he was pronounced worthy and injected with the Imprimatur.

Loki refused to allow any nervous impulse to move him as he watched the others go ahead, idly tracing the ancient lettering decorating the rim, his now fluent mind identifying and translating it as Old High Gallifreyan. He felt a hand nervously flutter against his own, and looked down.

Akeeta flashed him a smile, but he could feel her subtle shaking. He didn't smile but reached out and snagged her fingers, giving them a reassuring squeeze as she was called forward. Her fingers slipped from his, and then she was gone, slowly but dignifiedly walking towards the Schism.

Unlike the last two initiates, Akeeta didn't collapse or make a sound. She didn't even flinch when one of the attending Time Lords stepped up and injected her with the Imprimatur. When she turned back, Loki could see her eyes were shining as if she'd seen something wondrous. She seemed lost in a dream, and didn't meet Loki's eyes as she was led away.

Then it was Loki's turn

Loki stepped up to the great circular gateway onto the Time Vortex itself and met the solemn gaze of the Time Lords as they gestured for him to come forward. Loki took a deep breath, feeling friendly gazes on his back. His friends, Talia and Akeeta. His allies and mentors, Romana, Braxatiel, Caerlan. All willing him on.

From his previous position on the escarpment, he hadn't been able to see anything within the circle of the Schism but now, as he stepped up fully to face it, he could see…everything.

He could feel the oxygen in his lung leave him on a shuddering exhale, his body screaming for more as his blood pounded in his ears and his heart marched to a foreign beat.

But what he could see…oh! It was the most extraordinary thing Loki had ever experienced. It was terrifying and horrifying, wondrous and exhilarating, excruciating and insane in its utter perfection as the Web of Time unfolded before him. He saw himself, every moment of his life as he'd known it, and lives he had not. The lives of others, of Thor, of Odin, of Frigga and Sif and everyone he'd known on Asgard. Of Akeeta, Talia, Romana and Braxatiel. So many lives, so many possibilities.

And the Doctor. His power permeating the Web like a shadow, and Loki felt it call to him. Time needed more champions. He felt its song, its perfect, chaotic song, enter his mind, his very soul and he felt it tear his mind apart and remake it again.

And then a new darkness entered the song, encompassing everything with a ugly, discordant note and he felt himself recoil, felt himself shake and tremble with the need to fall to his knees, but he couldn't. He was held prisoner, paralysed.

Slowly, he became dimly aware once more of his surroundings as someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. He felt a sting as the Imprimatur was injected into his neck, and his eyes were wrenched away from the Schism.

"Loki? Loki!" a voice, concerned, fearful, called his name. He slowly came back to himself, feeling as though he had once more fallen through the Vortex. He blinked, as the image of Akeeta and Talia swam into view, the latter gripping his arm. "Are you well?"

Loki opened his mouth to answer, before a wave of pain exploded within him. He collapsed to his knees, crumpled in upon himself as the agony built and built. There was no room for shame as he cried out, deaf to all the commotion around him as the initiation fell into disarray. He couldn't hear Romana's calm voice calling him, or Brax, or Akeeta or Talia. He felt only his own agony, only his own voice, only his own…heartbeats.

Blessed, merciful darkness blotted out his consciousness as he finally fell into unconsciousness, as the Imprimatur crept through every cell of his body, changing it, transmuting it into something new.

Something unique.

To be continued…