Disclaimer: Nothing from this Marvelous universe is mine.

Summary: Three months after Operation Avengers all is well. Or is it? When Steve and Tony hack into SHIELD to find missing weapons shipments they find more than they bargained for in the form of a prisoner who should, by rights, have been sent to Asgard long ago.

Warnings: Moderately graphic torture, hints of non-con.


Chapter 6

When he finally gets home with Pepper, it's a little after nine.

It's the fault of the peak traffic combined with the decision ("I'm hungry, Pepper.") to stop in at Sam's Diner for an hour or two, a neat little place which cooks the best gristle-free roast in New York. They stay there longer than they probably should because they haven't had a proper date for over a week.

Tony does feel a twinge of guilt when they walk into the loungeroom and he sees the time though. Honestly, he hadn't intended to make Steve wait that long. Or, going by that tense, pale face, Loki. When they get a private moment he's going to have a word or two with the captain about secret keeping and the advantages thereof.

"You're back," Steve says, turning off the news and giving them a smile.

"No, I'm a ghost," Tony deadpans.

At least Loki grins. He decides to ham it up.

"The force will be with you, Loki. Always," he intones in his best Alec Guinness voice.

Loki opens his mouth, either for a return quote or to insult his accent. Tony never does find out because suddenly Pepper's stepped forwards, heels clicking, and he's thinking he probably should have remembered to tell her the infamous Asgardian was up and about.

"You're Loki?" she says.

To be fair, the demigod perched stiffly on the edge of the couch looks dressed to go to college. He doesn't, in the grey t-shirt and dark slacks, look like a recently tortured and rescued supervillain. But maybe that's just the lack of rictus grins, wounds and leather.

"I am," he admits cautiously, "And you are?"

"Pepper Potts."

"Being fair, Loki, which other beautiful women would I bring home at this hour?"

"I can—,"

Tony can too.

"—you know, on second thoughts, don't answer that."

The demigod's grin is very wide, very white and very insincere.

"Very well Stark. Since you insist."

And then the smile vanishes. Pepper has left Tony's side and is bearing down on the unfortunate demigod with deadly intent.

To his credit he stands his ground. Or maybe not, Tony mentally amends, noting positions and performing some basic arithmetic. He'd have to leap the couch to get away. Trapped then.

"You threw Tony out a window," Pepper says, pointing a finger at the towering Asgardian.

Loki blinks, eyes darting about for escape. And then he swallows, dropping his gaze to the carpet, apparently unable to meet her gaze.

"I did," he says, "I am most sorry for the act, Lady Pepper. I was... not myself at the time. It is not something I intend to repeat."

And suddenly, suddenly, Tony knows Loki must have gotten away with a hell of a lot more than he should have as a kid. He doesn't look like however many thousand years old he probably is. He doesn't even look thirty. And... are his eyes watering?

"I have nephews you know," Pepper says drily.

The jade eyes snap up to hers, wide.

"I'm sure they are charming beings if they are related to you," he offers.

Steve, still seated off to the side, lets out an undignified snort.

"The face is great. But Reindeer Games, you need to work on your sincerity," Tony says.

A shadow of something like regret flits across Loki's face. It's gone so fast Tony can't be sure that it was ever there.

"You are right, of course. But really, Stark. Reindeer games? Are you not a little old for that sort of humour?"

"You're saying no one's ever called you on the horns? I mean, how are they even practical?"

Loki flushes.

"They are—were—enchanted not to encumber me. Intimidation, not defence, was their primary function," he says stiffly.

"Sure, sure. Reindeer games," Tony grins.

Loki huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

Pepper looks back and forth between them, brow furrowed. The demigod looks back at her after a moment or two.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry," he offers.

She raises an eyebrow.

"I would be with SHIELD still if it were not for Stark. And Steve. I do not hurt my friends intentionally when... when I have them."

Tony finds himself wondering why he's still Stark if Steve's Steve.

But it seems to be enough for Pepper. And if she still looks a bit suspicious, there's a lot less hostility to it than before. She nods and returns to him with a muttered "Well, if you're sure about this Tony..." which, since he is, is awesome.

It's always nice when Pepper supports his goals.

And her face is really quite pretty when she gets annoyed and flushes like that...

Wait. Is that Loki talking?

"What?"

"I said 'was Hill informative'?"

His face is calm but his left hand is mangling his trouser leg. Tony wonders if he's even picked up that he's doing it.

"Yep. Very."

And then he decides to be a bastard, just because he can.

"So Steve, how was your day?"

Steve's day, apparently, consisted of chess, talking, eating, jogging and breaking another three punching bags. By the time he's finished saying so, well, if the flared nostrils and narrowed eyes of a certain demigod are anything to go by it'd be best, Tony thinks, not to pick a seat near the trickster when he eventually sits down.

"Sounds like it wasn't much fun," Tony says sympathetically when the supersoldier reaches the end of his litany.

"It might surprise you to learn just how many people enjoy exercise and a relaxing day at home."

Tony shudders.

"March of the oddballs. And you don't even drink coffee."

"It's the serum. I can't get drunk either."

"You know, fascinating as this is, would it be too much for you to save this until after you tell me what you found out from Agent Hill?"

He blinks.

"You mean—,"

"—Tony," Pepper interjects.

"Alright, alright. The info," Tony says, pulling out the laptop from a suitcase.

Loki shoots the redhead a grateful look.

It's half past ten by the time they've finished trawling through the information.

OoOoOoOoO

Loki decides he doesn't dislike Miss Pepper Potts.

It's partly because she doesn't seem to mind him being dishonest and partly because she isn't trying to pretend she likes him. But mostly it's because when she makes Stark, Steve and herself some hot chocolate after they've finished examining the information, she makes him one too.

Grand gestures are common in all Asgard. Perhaps that is why he finds the little ones mean so much more to him.

They are all four of them sitting around holding the warm and strangely pleasant drinks, and Stark is keeping well out of pranking distance. Pity. Not that it will help him. Loki fully intends to have his revenge eventually on the mortal's teasing.

But right now, the majority of his thought is devoted to the conundrum that is SHIELD.

"So what you're saying is Fury's been dealing with borderline enemies above the tables and open enemies bellow them?" Steve says.

"Someone certainly has been," Stark not-quite-agrees.

"Who else could it be?"

"Mystique for one, Cap. There aren't exactly a shortage of shape-shifters around."

"Mystique."

"Who is Mystique?" Loki asks.

"One of the X-men. Hot. Blue skin with a scaly pattern-look. She can wear forms like I wear clothes."

"You mortals find blue skin attractive?"

"Hell yeah. You seen Avatar? I have to show you Avatar. Some random guy in the news was saying he'd never marry because there was a shortage of blue female giants around. Not that Mystique's a giant..."

Loki finds himself swallowing. Steve coughs sharply.

"But yeah, back on topic. Fury's old friends seem to be having lethally bad luck. Anyone else thinks that screams 'I'm not me?'"

Steve frowns thoughtfully.

"All his old friends, you say?"

"Well, a lot of them. Going by the files. The ones which aren't dead from old age."

"That's certainly suspicious... "

"... but I'm sensing a 'but' here, Cap?"

"Well, these things usually take months, years even, in the planning stages. And how long has this gone on for?"

"Three months," Potts says decisively.

"Exactly. It's moving too fast. Why?"

Tony shrugs.

"Does it matter? Obie was an overnight job. Maybe he just... snapped. Someone got too close, saw too much, and he decided to just wing it."

"Obie?"

"Fury."

"No, I meant, who's Obie," Steve clarifies.

"Ah," Stark rubs the back of his neck, "Short version? Friend of my Dad's who thought killing me would work in nice for his plans of running the company. Didn't work out that way. He died."

Loki doesn't miss the way Potts stretches out her hand and rests it on Stark's or the way he squeezes it back. But Barton had told him about this, he recalls. Something about a lying father figure, torture in a different province, and the arc reactor. He is less surprised than he should be to feel a feint vein of sympathy for the mortal.

"And what makes you think that Fury is not simply eliminating those less likely to agree with his methods and replacing them with less... moralistic agents?" he asks.

Steve at least looks thoughtful. Stark, not so much.

"Because he wasn't like this. He was like Coulson. Sure he'd endorse threatening to, and I quote, 'taze me and watch "Supernanny" while I drool into the carpet.' But actual torture? Like he 'deserves everything he's getting' actual torture? No information, no purpose but revenge? Way I see it, Fury doesn't suck that badly."

"He said that?" Potts gasps.

"Day we rescued him."

I will destroy him. And I will make him pray for death before the end. No, beg for it.

"Loki?" Steve says, tentative.

There's a sharp pain in his palms and he suddenly realises there are bloody half-circles there where his nails have dug into his flesh. He straightens his fingers out slowly, forcing the tension—the hatred—back down. He needs to think. Needs to stay focused.

"I am fine."

Surprisingly, it's Stark who seems to see through the lie. But the man doesn't comment. He merely throws a sceptical look in his direction.

"So you think somewhere between Loki being defeated and, well, now, Fury got replaced?" Steve says.

"Well, it fits."

But did it?

This entire brand of logic felt... too smooth? Too easy? It was like being herded towards an unseen pen, no clear way to go but onwards. Running and running but in the wrong direction and no escape.

"What's his motive though?" the supersoldier frowns, "Why now?"

"Whoever's replacing him had to know that he was close friends with Coulson. Hell, probably with a couple odd hundred of the people who died. It'd be a neat enough excuse, mental strain, to slip in a missed shipment here, a missing agent there. Gets them their weapons, no questions asked. Maybe more than that with time."

Loki takes a sip of his drink, fingers clenching about the cup.

"Convenience then," he remarks lightly, "But who performed the replacement?"

"Dunno," Stark shrugs, "Doom? HYDRA? Terrorists? Could be any of 'em. Not really our problem. We just want fake-Fury out and real-Fury in if he's, you know, not dead."

"And if he is?" Loki asks, feeling... something.

"A good replacement. Hill, most likely. Or if not, someone else the council trusts."

Someone else the council trusts.

"So what we need to do," Steve says, "is get some more proof of what Fury is doing. Get him arrested. And get SHIELD back to being controlled by a decent director."

"Something like that," Tony agrees.

Something like that.

Something like that.

And suddenly the events click into place.

"Is it not fortunate that I happened to be being tortured so badly as I was. If not, no one would ever have thought of investigating and replacing your director," Loki says blandly.

Three sets of eyes snap toward his face.

"Loki...?"

He doesn't care which of them said it.

"It is exactly as you said, Captain. They moved to fast. Far too fast. One never moves that fast when one wants to succeed. So... why?"

His eyes are glittering as he stares at each of them in turn.

"Perhaps I should say, as you do, idiocy and carelessness are to blame. But I do not. I say Fury is terribly, terribly shrewd. There was no motive for what they did to me. No questions asked. Nothing better than petty revenge in any of your scenarios."

"Loki, I don't think—,"

"—exactly. You do not think. I do. I have fought wars before alongside my—I used to be able to shift forms as easily as your Mystique. And one does not make so obvious an error unless one wants to be discovered."

Everyone is silent.

"The real question is not, 'How shall we replace Fury?' but 'Who wants Fury replaced?'."

"Come on. Fury would never say—,"

"You are not thinking clearly. You are not listening. Whoever is behind this wants to replace Fury because they do not have access to what he has. Information. Codes. Research. Possibly all of that. But they needed none of that to replace Fury for the one, vital meeting required to make 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' suspicious. That one. You said as much yourself when you implied he was strained but normal until then. And afterwards."

Tony whistles.

"Picture the enemy. They see, as you saw, an opportunity to imply Fury was compromised by this 'Coulson''s death. By the invasion. They start to torture me. I am the key because someone, soon, will care enough find me, but no one cares now. They arrange weapons shipments to countries which are associated with those orginisations most aligned against your own. Agents go missing. Never enough to be caught or arouse notice, but more than enough to confirm active suspicion. Until finally they are ready and you find out about SHIELD weapons in the hands of terrorists. And by extension my pathetic, useless self."

Steve looks like he'd like to interject but Loki does not give him the chance.

"SHIELD security, I imagine, is moderately decent. When you arrive, things are prepared and I am allowed to be rescued. To quote Leia, 'They let us go.'

"I would then tell you my story. About the Allfather sentencing me to be handed over to the humans, powerless and bound, for however long it took me to escape them. About Fury. Everything. You would blithely trot off and have him arrested. And whoever has groomed themselves to replace him as active controller of the most highly guarded source of knowledge and the most powerful team of superheroes in the world would take his place. And no one would ever, ever, know. Until far too late.

"Tell me, does that sound more plausible than a panicking puppet shapehifter with no plan whatsoever other than stealing bombs?"

"Shit. Shit fu—,"

"Tony!"

Stark reluctantly subsides.

Steve frowns.

"Well, no offense Loki, but if that happened why the devil didn't Fury stop them from doing that to you?"

"There are two alternatives. Option one. Because I don't matter. I am a pawn. At the start he did not help me because I was a factor he was aware of and if I were to be rescued by him they would replace me with an unknown variable. Later, possibly, because if Fury were to admit he knew about my torture, there would be questions asked and he would be told to step down, however temporarily, while they sorted it out. He would lose whatever game it is he is playing.

"Option number two. I do matter. He doesn't know and simply ordered my incarceration in cell number x until he needed me and left me there to think on my wrongs. Quite possibly, in that scenario, whoever impersonated Fury for your meeting also impersonated me on the occasions Fury hypothetically visited me. Either way, my rescue most probably did not please him."

"He could have told someone," Steve says.

"I imagine he did. Hill. But—,"

"—but given how many agents have kicked the bucket, how many more can he trust?" Stark says hollowly.

Loki nods.

"In your director's position I would have left me to rot and hoped I found the traitor before anyone with a concience found out about the torture. Possibly, if pressured, I would have given myself an appology afterwards. And after all, whoever visited me could probably be linked fairly safely to the traitors, and I imagine the traitor is someone moderately high up. Useful information versus protecting a mass murderer."

Steve looks sick. So do Stark and, surprisingly, Potts.

Loki feels vaguely touched.

Finally Stark says:

"So what the hell do we do next?"

"We outthink them."


A/N A huge thank you to everyone who's been reviewing, alerting, faving and just taking the time to read this : )