A/N: Hey everyone, I actually have an update for you! Sorry for the wait, but as I've said, this fic is more of a fun side project for me. Once I have the time, I'll devote more effort to it, but for now, enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 6: The Past

Loki awoke as the shuttle was landing on the surface of a planet.

It was hard to know how long he'd been asleep; John was still in the Captain's chair, posture perfect and what he could see of his face showing no signs of fatigue. He might as well have been asleep for a few minutes for all the time had affected Harrison.

The god rose and silently strolled over to the captain's chair, placing a hand on top of it and leaning over Harrison, placing another hand on the edge of the control console as he looked out the cockpit window. John didn't even flinch when he suddenly found himself within inches of the other man; Loki was alittle disappointed.

The disappointment must have shown on his face, because Harrison said, "If you intended to startle me, you've failed miserably."

Loki straightened slightly, still leaning against the back of Harrison's chair. He was looking out at the window; across the airfield- they'd landed in some kind of public shipyard, other civilian vessels of varying sizes parked all around them- rose a city, skyscrapers glinting in the early morning light.

"Where are we?" Loki asked, ignoring the other man's comment.

"Donatu V."

"You say that as though it should mean something to me."

"If it doesn't, it's no concern of mine. I've taken you as far as I will. I want you off this ship."

"Why so gruff? Compensating for something?"

In one swift motion, John had swiveled the chair around, forcing Loki to step back, and stood, glowering at the Asgardian.

"We have reached what can pass for civilization. Now I want you off this ship- by force or otherwise."

"Oh, such a tough little mortal you are. But I have more interesting things to do than chat with Midgardians."

And just like that, Loki teleported off the ship, reappearing next to the building complex that stretched out next to the spaceport. The wall facing him was glass, giving people a clear view of their property, and Loki a clear view of them. He quickly noted the clothes, their style and material, and with a wave of the hand imitated them.

Gold light raced across his armor, throwing up an illusion around it; within seconds, a well-tailored black tux was hanging from his frame, the tie a a dark, vibrant forest green with gold lines criss-crossing in diamond shapes. The ensemble's pants and shoes were the same black as the jacket, nicely-made and of the quality that suggested money. It wasn't too dissimilar from what he'd worn in- oh, what was that city called?- Stuttgart, though the fabric of the jacket and scarf were an imitation of the smooth, almost silk-like material he glanced on some of the better-dressed spaceport clients.

Now looking the part of the rich businessman, he strode through the doors.

Loki's first goal was to find out more about his surroundings; what year it was, (and, subsequently, how far forward he's traveled), the state of the universe- the state of Asgard, and who within his family still lived.

It was a simple thing to ask an employee the location of a computer terminal, and a slightly-harder yet still simple task to figure out how to work it.

He typed Asgard into the search bar of the spaceport archives, clicking on the first few things that came up and committing their content to memory.

Something stirred inside him as he was looking at a virtual timeline, his eyes catching on the paragraph next to 2013 PSD (pre-star dating, he'd learned it stood for).

In 2013, much of Asgard was destroyed in the Battle of the Aether. Crown Prince Thor Odinson and his father lead the Asgardians in a costly battle against the Dark Elf Malekith and his followers. During the battle, Malekith absorbed the Aether- Aether was denoted as a link to another page- from a unknown human reported to have hosted the substance. The Asgardian forces triumphed and contained Malekith and the Aether in a undisclosed location. Undisclosed location was also a link, probably conspiracy theories about where that location was.

Loki struggled to keep his breathing in check. Possibilities were blossoming in his mind, as well foreboding. He read on.

An estimated two-thirds of the Asgardian population perished, both in the battle and in the destruction it caused. Of the ruling family, only Prince Thor survived.

Loki read and re-read the last sentence. It couldn't be right. They couldn't be dead. Odin's death he had mixed feelings about, but Frigga… No, not his mother. That couldn't happen. Even if they weren't blood, even if she'd let Odin lie to him, she had still cared for him- taught him magic and how to fight and been there. She didn't brush him off, didn't favor Thor. She was the only person who loved him. She was the only person he loved.

And she was gone.

He'd seen her just days ago, sarcastically complained about the effects of his cell. She'd been trying to get Odin to change them. He had left before that happened.

His mother was dead. Thor hadn't saved her. Odin hadn't saved her. And he had left her, thinking only of himself, of escape and freedom. He hadn't stopped to think what it would do to dear Frigga.

His last actions towards his mother had been so selfish, so childish. Complaining. Running away. It must have pained her, but he hadn't bothered to think about that, to think of someone other than himself.

His only family was gone, and the last thing he'd done was cause her pain. Was to abandon her. His chest constricted, leaving him unable to breath as tears stung at his eyes.

Rage built itself inside him as much as grief did, spinning his usually-sharp mind, sucking him under into a riptide. His magic crackled in the air, spiralling out of control as he did, making the lights and electronics flicker, cocooning around him in a sphere of wind and invisible energy that blew people and tables and computers away.

His breath came in gasps, still trying to choke back the tears that hadn't plagued him since he was an adolescent. He'd thought he learned of loneliness, of madness, when he floated through the void space for the simultaneous eternity and second before being deposited on the planet of the Other. He was learning of it again now, in the aching empty void that opened in the space Frigga occupied. He couldn't take it anymore; grief and anger were consuming him, putting too much pressure on his chest. Loki wondered if he would die, if this feeling could kill him.

He screamed, an animal howl of pain, hands clenched into fists.

His magic exploded outward, picking people and furniture up like they weighed nothing and flinging them hundreds of yards away. The glass shattered and the building shook as the wave of energy hit it.

In the aftermath of the wave was destruction. Cracks raced up the walls and along the ceiling; it was a wonder that the building hadn't collapsed. On the ground broken glass- and nothing else- covered the expanse of the floor. Outside, the spaceships nearest the complex had skidded into their neighbors, and bodies- most alive, though unconscious- littered the ground.

And in the middle of all this destruction, sitting in a slight crater, was Loki, weeping, the loneliness that had plagued him so many times before more painful than ever.

Across the city, in a far less classy spaceport, two men were stepping onto the street and hailing a cab. Both were very fit, lean muscle covering their bodies, and had their hair cut short and proper, but they were otherwise plain of looks. One had waxen blond hair the color of straw and muted blue eyes, the other curly mud-colored hair with a scar tracing over on of his black eyes.

A hovercar stopped next to them, and they got in, the darker-haired one paying the cabby. It was of a slight annoyance to both agents that they were working together- neither of them had made it a habit of having a partner on their missions- but orders were orders. Almost every active-duty field agent had been paired up with another and sent off to all the remote planets were Khan Noonien Singh and his companion were likely to have gone.

Despite their discomfort, the pair was in it together. It was a race amongst the paired teams of agents to get to the Augment and unidentified man first, as doing so would most definitely bump the triumphant team several notched up the totem pole.

The hand-held PADD of the blond male beeped, and he pulled it from his pocket to read the message from his unit's lab tech. She had been going over everything they had on Khan's accomplice, running facial recognition through every database in the Federation.

The message consisted first of two side-by-side pictures, one from Section 13's security footage and one from an undisclosed time. The photos centered around what was undeniably the same man, the sharp cheekbones and shoulder-length black hair looking virtually unchanged.

Loki of Asgard, brother to King Thor. He disappeared three hundred years ago, after he nearly leveled New York. SHIELD already has him in their system.

The blond man scowled; notifying the planetside division of Section 31 that they had come across one of their fugitives would only add to the competition for the promotion.

Try to find out where he's been all this time. Keep it quiet. Do NOT notify Director Johnson. He messaged back.

Just as he hit send, his companion's PADD also went off, with a message from a contact who resided on this planet.

Something big just went down at Devon Interstellar Spaceport. Might be the guys you're looking for.

Without bother to answer, the brunette leaned forward, giving new directions to the driver. The car kicked into a higher gear, weaving it's way down the road in several illegal maneuvers, speeding towards the spaceport where, hopefully, success waited for the two agents.