The presence of journalists ruined all the ease Loki had found with the squad, especially after someone told them that he had been with Steve.
"Someone was playing a joke on you," he told the journalist. "Captain America was alone."
"Sir," the eager young man protested, "you were with him. You took out that facility with him; we know that. I just want a quote and a photograph."
"No."
Loki expected that to end it, but of course it didn't. The child took his photo anyway, from across camp as if Loki wouldn't notice. But he heard the shutter click and headed that way, anger simmering. The dumb skinny mortal grinned up at him with insincerity that Loki could have felt from another Realm, and said, "But, sir, you're one of the Howling Commandos. You're a hero. The people of the world deserve to know-"
Which was exactly as far as he got before Loki's hand went around his throat and lifted him clear off his feet. "Do not take my picture again." He threw the boy down to the ground and grabbed the camera off his neck as he fell. Even as the boy yelled at him to stop, Loki opened the back and yanked out all the negatives, exposing them to the sunlight, as the reporter swore at him in dismay.
He dropped the empty camera and stalked off. Rogers ran after him. "Hey! Lukas! Kinda rough on the kid, weren't you?"
Loki glowered back at the photographer who was still kneeling in the dirt, the negatives in his hands, trying to stuff them into his shirt as if that would save them from being over-exposed. "I warned him not to take my photo. He didn't listen."
"But why not?" Rogers asked, confused. "You're not going to be a spy after the war, Lukas; you're going to be the national hero of Arendelle."
The words struck like a knife. He stumbled away from Rogers, as if that would let him escape those thoughts, ending up in the back of the cook tent. He was no hero of Arendelle, and never had been. "No, I will not. I cannot. You don't understand." He swallowed hard, remembering the Asgardian toy left in Arendelle and now in Schmidt's hands, and he shook his head. "I left too many footprints last time - why do you think Schmidt knew I existed? He murdered dozens of people for the sole purpose of luring me forth. Because he knew what I was. I cannot leave bigger trails for others to follow," Loki insisted.
"Hey," Steve's hand closed on his shoulder tightly. "It's not your fault."
"It is! I was careless! He came looking for me." He curled a hand around the rough rope, needing its support.
"No," Steve insisted. "Schmidt's the one who killed those people, not you. He's a murderous madman, and we need to take him down. It's not your fault."
"I- I could've come back to Arendelle sooner," Loki admitted, turning away from Steve's bright, kind eyes. "I should have come sooner. I could have helped them more. They died because I didn't come…"
"You're only one person, Lukas," Steve murmured. "No matter how strong we are, we can't be everywhere, or do everything. The Germans would have attacked Arendelle and Norway whether you were there or not."
Loki shook his head, finding no words to argue that wouldn't reveal his secrets. He didn't disagree, since Scandinavia had been too strategic for the Reich to ignore, but Schmidt wouldn't have come without Loki's presence. And he wouldn't have the tesseract if not for Loki. He had left his trail, leading Schmidt right to the tesseract and to him. He had tried to lift human progress, and he had given Schmidt the tools to make his devices of terror. He looked bleakly eastward toward the Allied lines where brave humans were throwing themselves on a pyre to push back an aggressor fueled by things Loki had left strewn all over the world.
"I have to stop him, Steven. I have to end this."
"We'll get him. Didn't I promise you in Austria, we would get him?" Steve asked.
"You did." Loki turned his head to look at Rogers and then away again, adding, "And you mean it."
"Of course I do. And you know what I think might be a good idea?" Steve asked. "You know how we're trying to light a fire under Schmidt's ass with our attacks? Don't you think you helping us would do that, too? You and me working together? The public doesn't have to know about your special talents, but Schmidt sure does. Pose for a picture or a video with the squad; it'll get back to him. Show him you're after him, too."
Loki considered that. It had a certain appeal, to demonstrate to Schmidt that Loki had found allies and they were working together towards Schmidt's defeat. He would have to be careful. "All right. So long as they keep my name out of it. That boy is accompanying us to Latveria, isn't he?"
"That's the spirit!" Rogers said, slapping his back companionably.
That was how a newsreel of the Howling Commandos included brief footage of a tall man with unregulation black hair in unmarked fatigues standing like a grim shadow behind Captain America. He was not identified in the newsreel, or in the military-approved article and photograph about the triumphant assault on the Hydra base in Latveria. But the lack of formal identification didn't stop other journalists from putting it together that Lukas Onsdag of Arendelle was part of the Commandos team, nor stop a queen in exile from talking to another journalist from identifying him as her rescuer.
Which was how Loki found himself the object of hilarity as Barnes dropped a package in front of him. "Mail for you."
The package was made up of letters, all bound together with string. The others looked at the pile and hooted, laughing. "Is it the long hair?" Jones demanded from the others. "Or the general air of mystery? Look at that stack!"
Dumbfounded, Loki looked at the stack. "Those are all for me? From whom?"
"Well, I don't know that, do I?" Barnes returned. "A pile for the dashing captain, of course. Oh, look, more for you." He dropped more letters in front of Loki's place at the table.
"What are all these?" Loki repeated blankly and fingered the string on the pack of letters. "One might be from Birgitte, though she would likely send me a telegram, but there is no one else to send me a letter..."
"Probably admirers," Morita said. "We all get those."
"Not as many as some people," Barnes teased, dumping another pile of letters on Rogers' place. "You need help answering your fan mail, Captain? I'm sure we could all help you out."
Rogers rolled his eyes. "Gimme. I'll do it."
"Looking at that, I think we should keep a tally of marriage proposals," Duggan teased. "Looks like Lukas is gonna give you a run for your money, Captain."
"Marriage proposals? Don't be ridiculous." Loki opened one of the loose letters warily and scanned it, frowning at what he read. It actually was a marriage proposal. "Oh. But- they know nothing about me. Why would they write this to me?"
"Because you're not ugly?" Duggan suggested, lifting his beer in salute, his bright blue eyes teasing.
"And you're single," Monty added. "Aren't you?"
"But- why?" Loki stared at them, in consternation and confusion. And the entire table broke into laughter. Offended that they were laughing at him, he stood fast enough to knock the bench over, tipping Dernier and Jones backward, too. They smacked into the dirt, startled, and the rest laughed again.
Loki's hands clenched and he stalked away so he wouldn't put a dagger in all of them.
"Wait, Lukas!" Barnes called and started after him, but Loki was in no mood, tossing invisibility over himself as soon as he was around the corner between the tents. Barnes walked right past him between the tents, calling after him.
Loki went to the perimeter of camp and lit the letters on fire with a twist of seiðr, watching them burn with a dark satisfaction. I need no ignorant mortals pretending on acquaintance, their letters filled with lies and desperate pleas for attention. They should not even know I exist.
"Lukas?" Barnes' voice came from behind him. Loki started, only then realizing he'd let the invisibility glamour fade. "Hey, they didn't mean any harm by it."
"I do not take well to mockery."
"I got that, but they were just poking a little fun. Admit it, your face was ridiculous. You know everything about everything, except the idea that some ladies might fall a little bit in love with you on the newsreels."
Loki still did not believe this was even happening. "That is the most absurd notion I have ever heard. And I have heard many."
"You must have seen the mail Steve gets?"
"Well, yes, of course, but I assumed he had met many people in his travels…" Loki's voice trailed off since, on second thought, it had been a stupid thing to assume that all those letters represented actual acquaintances. "Oh."
Barnes chuckled and shook his head. "Sometimes you're the most worldly person I've ever met, and sometimes you act like you were raised by reindeer."
"Reindeer?" Loki glanced at him sharply at that, thinking of Anna's husband. The reminder of Kristoff brought to mind the stone troll colony - he should, when this was over, go check on them. They all had the brains of rocks, but they didn't deserve Nazi tanks to crush them either.
"You know, because you're from Arendelle?" Barnes explained, then rushed on when he saw Loki wasn't amused. "Anyway, when we get back to town, we'll have to take advantage of our hero status and find ourselves some dames, right? Might as well get some use out of it." Assuming the answer to be yes, Barnes slapped him on the shoulder and moved back toward camp.
No, I think not. I did that. I casually "found some dames". It resulted in more hurt than finding out the truth of my parentage. So I will leave the mortals to each other. No more mortal branches of my family tree.
But it was too late to stop the reporters and the newsreels, and every time he saw his photo in a paper or received another letter from a stranger, he knew it was another trail he was leaving for the future.
There was nothing to done about it now, except finish the task at hand - stop Schmidt and retrieve the tesseract. Each mission got them one step closer, even as he was frustrated that it wasn't over with already.
Finally, a new mission got them the closest they'd been, with a spy report that Zola himself was on a train. And since Zola would give them Schmidt, they went after him, with the most dangerous plan they'd come up with yet.
It was frigid on this rock promontory on the side of the mountain. Winter had these mountains in a tight grip, and it hadn't been a fun climb into position, or for Bucky to shoot the lines into the rock wall on the far side of the ravine with his bare hands trembling. But finally everything was set, and Jones on the radio reported confirmation that their target was aboard this train.
"I will go first," Lukas volunteered and grabbed the hand-grip slider from Duggan with an impressive confidence.
Steve opened his mouth to object, because it was his plan and he should go first, but Lukas leveled a look at him that kept him quiet.
"This has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever done," Bucky muttered, taking another of the hand-grips for the zip line. "In my life." Steve would've asked him if he wanted to switch with Jones, but it was just Bucky doing his usual grumbling.
"Ready…" Morita said, tracking the train. "At the curve."
Lukas put the hand grips on the line and waited at the edge of the cliff, his eyes on the train as well. Steve had little doubt that Lukas was doing the same calculations Steve was, to insure their arrival above the train was exactly right.
"Ready, little more…"
Lukas jumped before he heard anybody say go, on his own time, hurling himself into the air with both hands on the grips across the line.
Steve followed, squinting in the sudden rush of frigid wind against his face. He looked for the train - four cars, traveling slowly on the big curve - but still coming up very fast as the line took them across the gorge.
Behind him he heard Bucky yell something the wind snatched away, and grinned as Bucky kept yelling all the way down the line, as if he was on a wild ride at the pier.
But ahead, the train was coming up under them and Lukas let go, dropping easily to the roof of the second car of the train like a raven alighting on a branch. Steve himself was not so lucky, landing harder on the third car, and he turned his head in time to see Bucky land on the last car. He gave Steve a thumbs up and started scooting across the top toward Steve.
As planned, Lukas headed to the forward-most car, better able to deal with the cold outside, while Steve lowered himself into the gap between first and second, to start going backward to check each car. Bucky followed him inside.
They were attacked immediately and separated. Steve was thankful for his shield that kept off the firepower of the Hydra supersoldier's weapon. He and Bucky tag-teamed to finish it, until they were beset again.
Everything exploded, and Steve pushed himself up, bleary-eyed. There was a giant hole in the side of the car, and neither attacker nor Bucky was in sight.
Grabbing his shield and sliding it automatically into place, he looked out the hole. Bucky was clinging to a railing, dangling off the side of the train. Oh, God.
"I'm coming!" he yelled. "Hold on." He felt his way across the torn car siding, with little to hold onto, but desperate to get closer. Just a little more, he could stretch and grab Bucky's hand...
Steve inched a little closer to where Bucky was hanging. "Here take my hand!"
Bucky reached for Steve's hand, but he was still too far. Just a little more…
Then, the railing tore away, and Bucky fell.
Steve yelled his name and lunged to catch him, but he was plummeting, too far, too fast. It seemed like Bucky took everything as he fell, leaving Steve feeling empty with shock.
"Steven!" another voice shouted, dragged his attention upward, reluctantly.
He saw Lukas on the roof of the train car, at the edge where the side had been ripped away, and by his horrified expression, he'd seen Bucky fall, too. "Get Zola!" Lukas yelled at Steve and then…
He launched himself from the train.
He didn't jump, he dove headfirst. Steve watched him fall, mouth agape, but the dark despair that had filled him watching Bucky fall, seemed to get lighter as Lukas fell. He ought to fear that Lukas had just jumped to his death, but Lukas had strange powers and clearly didn't believe he was going to die. A brighter hope kindled in Steve's chest, that somehow that crazy bastard, whatever the hell he was, could find and save Bucky. If anyone could, he could. It was Bucky's only chance, and Steve resolved to hold onto hope as long as he could.
tbc..