Warnings: language, angst, bad decisions.

Thanks to irite for being the best beta ever. And for Thor-ing this chapter for me.

Holy crap, we hit 100 reviews. I like that. I like all of you.

I do not own The Avengers.

"Why don't you just leave that alone for now?" suggested the man who had just teleported into Bruce's room, almost genially.

Bruce froze with his hand on his cell phone, sharply aware of the band of anxiety tightening around his chest. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from the phone and started to turn around to face his visitor, taking a deep breath.

"You don't need to turn around, either. Maybe un-turn, actually?"

With a sharp exhale, Bruce stopped and turned back so he was facing the wall, resisting the urge to knit his fingers together in front of him, knowing that would not go over well with his visitor.

"Good. So, here's what I'm thinking." Bruce could hear the man start to move around in the room behind him, heard him pull out the chair by the desk and settle down. "You've been out for what, a month now? That's plenty of time to think about how pissed off you are at SHIELD, right?"

Bruce didn't answer, too busy trying to get a handle on his racing heartbeat—there were too many variables here, too much uncertainty, and if he didn't get himself under control, people were going to get hurt. Maybe a lot of people.

Briefly, he cursed his own idiocy, his own recklessness. Should have known something like this would happen, should have stayed on the drugs, should've—

But was that really the issue? Should he have anticipated someone showing up in his extensively-secured bedroom to abduct or attempt to kill him? Even by the standards of his fucked up life, that was a little far-fetched. And really, all the GMSS in the damn world wasn't going to help if this guy decided to shoot him, so...was it really logical to blame himself for this?

"Or maybe you're not angry at all. If that's the case, I don't know how the hell you're not."

His feelings about the nine months he'd spent with SHIELD were something that Bruce had not yet quite gotten around to working through. In that he'd been actively avoiding thinking about what had happened pretty much since the moment he'd woken up in restraints his first day there. Thinking about it right now, under these circumstances? Literally at gunpoint? Was certainly not how he'd planned on doing it. So he deflected, "Why are you here?"

"I think you know that. You've been looking into us. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say this isn't really a surprise to you."

Bruce sighed. Even with his back turned, he knew he was probably a terrible liar. He decided to skip the inevitable part where he would be called out on his lie and just admitted, "You're right. I know why you're here."

"Then what's it gonna be? Gonna come with me? We can give you the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to get back at those sick fucks for what they did to you. Or are you just too damn nice for that? Too pathetic, ready to keep laying at their fucking feet like a trained animal? 'Cause if that's the case...this world would probably be better off without you. And I can make that happen."

Bruce's thoughts were racing. This was happening too fast, and it was about to get bad. Maybe if he could stall...surely Tony had some way of knowing that there had been a security breach, if they lingered here long enough, then maybe the others could put an end to this.

But then Bruce remembered the way JARVIS had cut off in the middle of a sentence, and that small hope deflated. JARVIS was, at least for the moment, out of commission, so Tony and company probably wouldn't be making a conveniently timed appearance. Clint—who was supposed to be protecting him—was currently bleeding and unconscious in the foyer. Bruce was on his own, and if someone was going to put an end to this, it was going to have to be him.

"You can't kill me," Bruce pointed out, mind whipping through possible scenarios and outcomes. "Not with a gun, anyway." And not in any other way you can imagine, either, unless you're a lot more creative than I am.

"Really? That shit SHIELD has you on—"

"Do you really think I'm still on that?" Bruce said this with more relish than he had intended, hoping to throw the intruder off guard.

"Bullshit, I have your records from yesterday. You tested positive."

"How'd you get those?" That didn't bode well, that his supposedly secure medical records were floating around—although it was good to hear that the new compound had fooled SHIELD. In a way, though, it was a good thing that this guy thought he had Bruce's number. Bruce wasn't ready to lay his cards on the table just yet, and maybe it could be advantageous somehow if they thought he was drugged. He needed to play this carefully.

Apparently, the mutant had a similar plan, though, about playing his cards close to his chest. "Like I'm going to tell you that," he snorted. "Okay, even if I can't kill you, I can still shoot you. That won't be fun, right? For anyone within a couple mile radius."

His tone made his meaning clear immediately. "No," Bruce conceded, clenching one hand uselessly at his side. "It won't." And the possibility of hurting someone, of letting the Other Guy loose in the middle of Manhattan, was enough to seriously constrain his options. If that happened...if there was an 'incident'...SHIELD would come for him, they'd realize the deception with the GMSS, Tony would go to prison, and God only knew what would happen to the others. It would be a disaster, and he'd bring everyone down with him.

No, that was unacceptable. Which meant there was only one thing he could do.

"Okay, then. So," Bruce heard the mutant shift, and he repeated, "What's it gonna be?"

And even though he knew what he was going to say, Bruce couldn't help his shoulders from slumping a little as he made his words a reality. "Let's go."

"What? Seriously?"

The incredulity didn't help matters—this wasn't something that Bruce especially wanted to do. But it was the only way. This way, he'd be a 'villain,' he'd probably be roped into doing whatever the hell it was these crazies were planning but...that would all be on him. None of the others would be held culpable, none of this would link back to them. That was something he could deal with, something he could allow. The alternative...letting someone else take the fall for him...not so much. "Yeah. Seriously."

"Well, color me surprised." And before Bruce could draw another breath, he heard the mutant stand, and a strong grip locked like a vice around his wrist.

Teleportation, Bruce decided, a moment later, bent over and vomiting spectacularly on the floor of wherever he'd just been zapped, is definitely not my favorite way to travel.

"I should have you arrested," Fury growled as Tony finished his explanation of what had brought them there.

The lawyers, standing in one corner of the room, looked ready to step in, but Tony just smirked, taking note of the way the other Avengers drew in around him protectively. "Maybe. But is that any way to repay the man who's making sure your organization doesn't leave itself vulnerable to attack?"

"We don't know for sure that's what's going on here, Stark," Fury said. "We just have your word. And that's not much to go on. We haven't seen any evidence that—"

"I'm sorry, sir," Steve interrupted, and Tony had to raise an eyebrow at his confrontational tone, "But we find that a little hard to believe."

Fury leveled Steve with a calculating look. "Is that so."

The supersoldier didn't back down. "Yes, sir. You honestly expect us to believe that you have no leads on what happened to Locklear? No idea what's been going on with ex-prisoners your own records show you've misplaced?"

"You had no business viewing those records," Fury started, something in Steve's tone apparently rubbing him the wrong way.

Thor took another step forward at that, his hand moving to his belt, looking like he'd love to be holding Mjölnir, but refraining for the sake of diplomacy.

Before he could speak, Natasha pointed out, "I think that's a moot point, now. We have seen them, and we're trying to help you—"

Fury shook his head. "Look, let's not pretend this is anything but what it is. You hacked a federal agency for your own benefit—"

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Tony cut in, unable to take the waffling another minute. "Like you didn't expect me to do that." In their corner, the lawyers did near-identical facepalms. Undaunted, though, Tony continued, "You can't have security protocols that bad and not expect me to look around. Honestly. So drop the innocent 'I'm the victim' thing you've got going on and tell us why the fuck you're not acting on this. 'Cause we've got some theories, and none of them are pretty."

Fury leveled him with a glare. "I'd tell you where you could stick your theories, but you brought the paper pushers. You have no fucking idea what you're dealing with."

"Oh, and you do?" Tony's incredulity was evident. "Because it looks like you've got exactly shit to work with."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Fury pointed out reluctantly, his voice low.

Thor's hand finally lifted from the front of his belt, arms moving to cross over his chest instead.

Natasha looked up at Fury with a piercing glare. "So you do know something?"

Casting an annoyed look between the people standing in front of his desk, Fury nodded once, brusquely. "Yeah. I do. And you...people just can't keep your noses out of other people's business, can you?"

"...Well? Gonna share, or you gonna keep us guessing?" Tony prompted after several beats of silence. Finally, they were getting somewhere, even if this was apparently going to be like pulling teeth.

"Sorry, Stark, I'm just trying not to get anyone killed. My apologies if that's an inconvenience for you." Fury paused. "We've known for awhile that...something was happening. Locklear...that was the last clue."

"Her death, you mean." Steve wanted to make sure everyone was still on the same page. Because, honestly, he kind of wasn't. This was so far above anything he'd ever been trained for—there were no visible enemies to kill and he was directly defying a man whom he'd previously seen as a commanding officer. He wanted to at least try and work this carefully.

Fury snorted. "Death, yeah. That's a nice way to put what they did to her."

"She had it coming," Tony snarled, Fury's apparent defense of that woman sending a spike of rage straight through his chest.

With a placating gesture (which did nothing to placate Tony; he wouldn't give Fury the satisfaction of being so easily manipulated), Fury said, "Fine. Whatever. We're not going to see eye to eye on this. But when she was...killed, that's when we knew we were dealing with something more than random disappearances. So we started doing some investigating. And we figured some shit out."

"What'd you find?" Natasha asked, just as Tony said, "So why didn't you update your files?"

Fury decided to answer Tony first. "We wanted them to think we were clueless. That we didn't know what they were up to, or we didn't care. We wanted to keep them complacent. Calm. We wanted them to think they had all the time in the world to actuate their plans."

"Which are?" Natasha prompted, slightly irritated.

"Haven't got that far, Romanoff. But we've got some locations, we've set up some surveillance. We'll get something, soon."

Still attempting to be diplomatic though he didn't think Fury deserved it, Thor asked, "And is that all you can do after all of these people have been killed, set up surveillance? That hardly seems like enough."

Fury bristled, "It's all we can do, Thor. This isn't your fucking problem."

Tony raised his hand. "Actually, I would disagree; we're involved. Really involved. It is our fucking problem." Though he didn't say as much, he was thinking of Bruce, who was almost certainly on the recruit-or-kill list. What were they supposed to do, trust Fury's surveillance to keep the physicist safe? That wasn't going to happen.

Fury heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I noticed. Look. They've been watching us. I'm sure they've been watching you since you started poking around in our shit. And now you're here. Which is a giant red fucking flag to them that now we know what they're doing. So thanks a lot for letting them know."

"Hey, don't blame us. If you had just told us—"

"Why the fuck would I tell you anything, Stark? After the shit you pulled with Banner? Christ, this whole fucking fiasco is your fault. Or his. You couldn't just let it go, couldn't understand the pressure to protect the world from a monster—"

"Have care how you speak," Thor warned, any effort at diplomacy gone now as he shifted his stance to be more aggressive. "As I recall, this did not begin with Dr. Banner."

"Blondie's right," Tony backed him up, angry, completely ignoring his lawyers' admonitions to shut the hell up. "Bruce didn't want anything to do with this superhero shit, you pulled him in anyway, Loki played him, and then instead of owning up to your own damn mistake you let him take the fall instead. Which he did without a single fucking complaint. So fuck you. If you're going to blame this on someone, blame me because I wouldn't let him do the self-sacrifice thing forever. But you should really blame yourself." Tony felt Steve place a warning hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. "If you can't see how you're just reaping what you sowed, then you might need to get your eye checked." He stood, gesturing to the others. "We're done here. Let's go."

"Wait," Steve grabbed Tony's wrist to stop him from his dramatic exit. "We're not done. Director," he leveled Fury with a steady look, "we intend to do everything in our power to protect Dr. Banner. If we work together," he held up his other hand to quiet Tony's snort of derision, "Maybe we can do that better, and help you fix this in the process. Are you willing to try that?"

Tony could see the cogs in Fury's head turning, and he didn't like it one bit. But the director wasn't stupid enough to turn down this kind of offer. "Fine. But if I get even a hint of insubordination, or get the idea that you're working behind my back, we're done. This is temporary, and you will follow my orders, is that clear?"

"No," Steve said. "That's not how this is going to work. We'll help you find these guys, help you stop whatever they're trying to do, but we're going to do it our way." Behind him, the others nodded, in rare total agreement about something.

"Whatever," Fury growled. "But if you end up getting yourselves killed or worse, it's not my damn fault. That's on your heads. These people are dangerous, or didn't you notice?"

Tony tugged his arm out of Steve's grasp. "Great! Glad that's settled! Now, how about you send me a copy of everything you've got so far, and Bruce and I will start going through it?"

Fury looked pained, but managed a terse. "Fine."

"Then we'll be in contact." Tony pretended not to notice Fury's efforts to break his hand during their parting handshake, squeezing back as firmly as he could, and the others followed him out the door.

They were most of the way back down to the car, Lucas and Samuels congratulating Tony on avoiding provoking Fury into killing him or having him arrested, when Tony got a text message.

Waving the lawyers off, he pulled his phone out and read the missive.

It wasn't good news. "Shit."

"What has happened?" Thor asked, stopping beside where Tony had frozen in the hall.

"Something tripped the security system at the Tower."

Natasha whipped out her cell phone, presumably calling Clint.

Steve sidled up next to Tony, trying to read the screen. "What was it?"

"Don't know. JARVIS didn't send any of the follow up information he was supposed to. Christ, what a time to find a bug in the code..." Tony started texting furiously.

"Barton's not answering his phone," Natasha informed them grimly. She dialed another number. "And neither's Banner."

Steve and Tony locked eyes. "We'd better move," Steve said.

And no one said a single word about Tony's driving on the way back to the Tower.

Bruce's new 'friends' weren't overly inclined to treat him gently, which Bruce found troubling on a couple of different fronts. First, if he was on their side (which clearly he was, since he'd agreed to come along for this), then why did they feel obliged to force him to his knees immediately after he'd finished puking, shove a rag in his mouth, put a bag over his head, tie his hands, and drag him at gunpoint through their compound? That didn't seem especially...friendly.

And second, well, no one who knew what Bruce was ever treated him with anything but the utmost in caution. Most people avoided touching him altogether, but not these guys. No, Bruce was pretty sure that the hand fastened around his upper arm was going to leave a bruise, and the person dragging him kept wrenching his shoulder practically out of the socket, and when he stumbled and fell, he was assisted on the way down with a boot to his lower back.

It took him awhile to figure it out, and when he did he felt sick to his stomach. They think I'm drugged. They think I can't transform. They think they're safe.

Their faith in SHIELD's compound seemed to be absolute, but Bruce's faith in himself was not nearly so strong. And until he knew where he was, and who, exactly, he was dealing with, he had to keep himself under control.

So as he was dragged along, he focused in on the pain in his arm and shoulder (and after they kicked him, his back), letting it ground him, giving him something to focus on. He breathed slowly, deeply, and tried not to think too hard about what was going to happen once they got to wherever it was they were going.

He was so intently not thinking that when they stopped moving, he stumbled again. This time, though, the hand on his arm kept him upright, yanking him back into place.

After several seconds of just standing, footsteps approached and a voice said, "I do hope you will excuse our rudeness thus far, but a few of our allies have, well, been less than eager to perform the duties they seemed so willing to take on when their other option was death. Some tried to escape. And some we just do not trust. It is non-ideal, but this way, if you choose to back out of our agreement, there is much less risk to us, you see."

Bruce knew that voice. At least...he thought he did. It can't be. No way.

"And," the voice continued, "I'm sure you understand our reluctance to believe that the honorable Dr. Banner would so willingly turn to the dark side, as it were, even after being treated so hospitably by SHIELD. Furthermore, we know you've been looking into us, and given that, it seems extraordinarily odd that you've come at all. So, please, forgive us our rudeness, but I fear we are going to have to take one more unpleasant step. Has he been searched for recording devices? Tracking devices?"

"No, sir," said the goon at Bruce's elbow.

"Do it," the voice ordered.

Bruce didn't have any time to prepare before he felt rough hands patting him down, and he tensed against the unwelcome intrusion. The search was as awkward and unfortunate as these things tend to be. More than once, he had to bite down on his tongue or lip to stop himself from flinching, forcing himself to remain as pliant as he knew the drug had rendered him, trying to maintain the farce as long as he could.

It wasn't easy, but at the very least the unpleasant business was conducted in silence, and when it was over and Bruce was more or less put back together, the voice said, "Very well. This is a surprise, but I cannot deny my excitement that you've come. We shall have such fun together, you and I."

And his hands were untied, someone pulled the bag off of his head, and Bruce pulled the makeshift gag out of his mouth with no resistance from his captors. He stood, swallowing repeatedly, blinking under the harsh lights until his eyes stopped watering. Then, massaging the point above his elbow where a hand had been gripping him like a vice for the better part of half an hour, Bruce looked around, eyes tracing the faces of the people surrounding him (and carefully not noticing the guns pointed at him) until they landed on the owner of the voice that had been speaking, of the person who seemed to be in charge here.

Damn. Bruce had really, really been hoping that he'd been mistaken when he'd thought he knew that voice.

But no, he wasn't that lucky. The universe apparently hated him.

"Welcome, Dr. Banner," Loki greeted him warmly, with relish. "How well it does me to see you again."

Bruce sighed. He didn't know if he should be surprised (he wasn't, not really, because somehow this fit) or annoyed (which he definitely was) or angry (and yeah, he was starting to get pretty pissed off), so all he said was, "Loki."

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

Bruce snorted—he couldn't help it. 'Friend' was definitely not the word he'd use to describe the relationship he had with Thor's brother. 'Arch-enemy' maybe, or something even more antipathetic would be more apt. "I'm sorry, but after the last time I saw you, I woke up tied to a hospital bed drugged out of my mind." It was a pretty honest assessment of the situation, Bruce thought, and delivered far more calmly than he felt.

Something flickered across Loki's face—anger, maybe, or something else—but it was gone so quickly that Bruce couldn't process it. Loki's eyes flitted to Bruce's wrist, where he knew, now, that the SHIELD device was resting. "Yes, well. I am sorry about how that turned out. Truly."

The stiff set to the demigod's jaw spoke of sincerity, like discussing what SHIELD had done left a foul taste in his mouth. Before Bruce could wonder at that, though, Loki added, "But, I do believe I will be able to make it up to you, if you would be so kind as to indulge me."

With a raised eyebrow, Bruce stated flatly, "Oh, really." He was being cautious—Loki was insane, after all—but his feelings towards the demigod could not be entirely constrained.

"Yes, really," Loki mocked. "I believe you will find my plans quite satisfying—I must say, they were actually inspired in large part by your plight. And, of course, by my regret for the part I played in it." Loki's eyes glittered, clearly delighted with himself. "But I can save all of that for later, once you've had some time to settle in. Now, though, I've gotten you a gift. Would you like to see it?"

"Um," Bruce started. He cleared his throat. "I guess?" Dealing with Loki, on Loki's turf, was something that he was going to have to handle delicately. The trickster had proven that he had no qualms at all about manipulating Bruce, manipulating the Other Guy, about hurting a lot of people. Bruce knew he should just go along with whatever the demigod had planned. "What is it?"

"Bring Dr. Banner his gift," Loki commanded, his voice steely and dripping disdain.

Two men slipped out a door off to one side. They came back a minute later, dragging another person between them.

It was Locklear.

Still gonna go along with whatever Loki has planned, Banner? Or do you have a better idea?

'Cause you better start thinking of one, if you don't.

The Tower was still in lockdown when they arrived, and Tony had to use his manual override codes to get them into the building, despite Thor's offer to get them in faster. When they were in the elevator, Tony called, "JARVIS, what's the situation?"

There was no answer.

"JARVIS?"

Still nothing.

"Oh, hell no. If they broke JARVIS, I am gonna be pissed—"

"Is that really your biggest concern right now?" Steve sniped at him, watching the floors count up impatiently. He'd been tempted to offer to help Thor, worried as he was about Bruce and Clint, his team.

"No," Tony sulked. He pressed the button for the Avengers' floor five times in quick succession with increasing force.

"That's not going to help," Natasha pointed out, feeling like they'd had this exact conversation before. "Gonna suit up? We don't know what's waiting for us up there."

"Shit. Yeah, you're right." He dropped the briefcase and kicked it open. The suit finished assembling just as the elevator doors opened, but Tony left the faceplate up, wanting to see what had happened with his own eyes.

The first thing they saw was Clint, lying unconscious in the middle of the floor, in a small but nonetheless alarming pool of blood.

Natasha rushed to his side, feeling his neck for a pulse. "He's alive. Check the rest of the floor, I'm going to call an ambulance."

Steve led Tony and Thor into the main part of the floor. They swept through the kitchen, the living area, and each bedroom. The entire floor was empty and silent.

Back in Bruce's room after their search, Tony walked over the bedside table and picked up Bruce's abandoned cell phone clumsily. "His phone's here. Damn it." At Thor's questioning look, Tony elucidated, "I could track him, if he had it with him. But now we've got nothing." He slammed a fist into the table, punching straight through. "Shit!"

He looked up at Steve and Thor, who were standing with their arms crossed, watching him cautiously. Irritated,, Tony pushed past them, casting a quick look down the hall where paramedics were swarming the foyer before storming into the kitchen and pulling a bottle of conveniently placed whiskey out of a cabinet. He took a long drink, slumped against the counter, before setting the bottle aside and going to get out of the suit.

Half an hour later, he re-entered the kitchen to find Thor and Steve sitting at the table. "Natasha went with the paramedics," Steve explained. "Clint has a concussion and...well, they think he'll be okay, but there was a lot of swelling..."

Tony picked up his whiskey bottle, ignoring both Steve's words and his disapproving look. "Okay. We need to look at the security footage, and I need to get JARVIS back online." He took a drink. "Doing the security footage will be a hell of a lot easier with JARVIS, so I'm going to get started on that." He sighed and rubbed his forehead, suddenly aware of the throbbing headache that had sprung up there.

"What do you think happened to Dr. Banner?" Thor asked, giving voice to the concern that was at the front of each of their minds.

"No idea," Tony answered shortly. "But the Tower's still standing, so I know what didn't happen to him. Wherever he went, he went willingly." More or less, anyway. Tony had suspicions of what had happened (because he knew Bruce's idiotic penchant for self-sacrifice made him way too easy to manipulate), but couldn't say anything definite until after he'd seen the security footage.

Steve sighed, and when he spoke it was with clear reluctance. "Do you think we should tell Fury about this? Seems like something he might want to know."

"I don't give a shit what Fury might want to know," Tony snarled, surprising even himself with his vehemence. He covered it quickly. "We're not telling him anything until we know what the fuck happened to Bruce. That asshole's just aching for a reason to go after him and this? This doesn't really look good. And Fury's too fucking stupid to stop and think for five seconds, so this is plenty for him to act on." He slammed the bottle on the counter and stalked out of the kitchen and towards his lab. If they were going to get a handle on this, he had to get to work.

Steve and Thor cast uneasy looks after him. "He's right, though," Steve said solemnly in the wake of Tony's departure. "It doesn't look good at all."

Well, that was fun. I thought so, at least.

You know what else is fun? Reviewing.