Tony's body was moving before he'd even had the time to instruct his nerves to fire, dropping to his knees with the same finality as a headsman's axe. Hands reached for his friend as though they weren't still attached to his arms. The white of his skin contrasted sharply with the blood and he once again had to struggle not to lose the little food in his stomach all over the ruined floor. Blonde hair still peaked out from under the red liquid, agonising in its brutal familiarity.

"Save him," the engineer muttered, so quietly he hardly expected his companion to hear but Loki moved closer regardless. Tony didn't turn to look but he could picture the god shaking his head, shoulders hunched in defence and apology that could only be false.

"I cannot."

"I don't care. Do it. Save him." He couldn't seem to bring his voice to more than a whisper. All the strength that had been keeping him going had fled out of his limbs the instant he'd recognised the torn, distorted form that lay before him and now he couldn't seem to find his way back to himself. In that moment all he knew was that he couldn't lose another friend - certainly not knowing that this was his fault. Fisk had been gunning for him. Not for Clint. He wasn't about to let the archer become collateral.

Loki carefully made his way to Clint's other side and knelt across from him with far more grace than Tony had managed. In the dim light he looked as pale and immovable as stone. "How do you propose I do that? I have no energy left Stark - I'd just kill us both."

"There has to be a way!" And there was the shouting, a sudden, explosive burst of emotion that died a quick death. There was nothing left in him that could contain it.

"I'm sorry," Loki tried but even after everything, Tony just couldn't believe the apology. Couldn't trust it to be genuine.

"I don't care," he repeated. His lungs ached and his heart pulsed strangely behind ribs that felt as though they'd been pulled apart, exposing him in a way he'd never felt before. "Save him. Whatever it takes."

"I'm not refusing out of spite, Stark," Loki snapped, angered now. "It is impossible. Magic has a cost and I no longer have the strength to pay it."

"It's all about energy right?" Tony realised suddenly, an idea forming in his mind out of sheer desperation. "Take mine."

The god sighed, wearied beyond imagining. "The amount I would need is far more than you can provide."

"I have a generator in my chest," he pointed out sharply, shuffling closer to the body between them as fingers automatically latched to the pulse point in his neck and finding the smallest of beats. The archer needed air desperately but he was clinging on by his fingernails. "Take it from that."

Loki considered that for what felt like an eternity before reaching out hesitantly to brush his fingers against the muffled circle of light. His hand glowed very slightly. "I can use this. I can't guarantee it will work though. Your friend is terribly injured."

"And you're the best Seiðr in the nine realms. Take the energy and save him," he ordered, not caring how he knew all of this. There was a moment's hesitation, before: "Or the deal is off."

Loki went rigid, pulling back slightly as he recoiled. "You would send me to my death because you failed to protect yourselves?"

"Consider it incentive."

The god still looked blindly furious and maybe that was why he pushed on the arc reactor with a little more force than was necessary while pressing his other palm to Clint's still chest. Loki's whole body lit with green energy and Tony felt the all-too-familiar draining sensation as his heart contracted sharply but he didn't care about that. What he cared about was the way the archer's body - what visible parts there were - contorted, shifting as muscles spasmed out of control.

Tony couldn't move for fear of breaking contact with Loki but his arms were still free to try and shift some of the debris off Clint's torso, brushing away the lighter bits and heaving against the larger blocks. The god didn't even seem to notice, body trembling with the strain of so much foreign power rushing through his veins.

Clint let out a strangled gasp, lungs straining and heart trying to thud out of his chest but he was alive and it was one of the best things Tony had ever seen.

"Clint! Can you hear me?" There was an unintelligible groaning. "Jesus Birdbrain don't ever do that again. Seriously, Nat would skin me if you died."

The green light bathing them suddenly flickered, faltering slightly as Loki whined helplessly, exhaustion stabbing at every inch of him in a way he hadn't felt in centuries. It was dangerous to spend so much energy, too much of a risk. He had to stop the spell now before it killed him but he wasn't finished yet - if he pulled away and the mortal died then he'd be alone and defenceless yet again, without the slightest chance of surviving more than a week. He didn't want to die.

"Loki?" Tony felt his shifting emotions swing back towards worry as the god pulled away from him, magic vanishing as soon as the fingers left his chest. Loki's skin was bone white and he was bleeding, a thin trail slipping from the corner of his mouth as he pitched sideways and slumped to the floor bonelessly. "Shit," he swore violently, grabbing at the hand that still rested against Clint's chest and felt for a pulse. He'd had to do this too many times today.

There was a long moment where he didn't feel anything at all and he almost collapsed in fright but then he felt the smallest of heartbeats. He swore again.

"This has got to be one of the worst days of my life," he muttered to himself as he started shifting the remaining rubble of Hawkeye's legs. The archer had passed out again but he was still breathing strongly, a reassuring noise in the near silence of the room. "Thank god Pepper's not here. Thank god Loki is."

"You could just thank me," said a quiet voice and the engineer almost jumped out of his skin. He'd thought Loki was unconscious. He looked dead for Christ's sake.

"Still breathing? I thought we'd lost you for a moment there." Loki apparently didn't think that worthy of a response and stayed silent. "Thank you. You... you did good."

"I did what I had to do," the god replied and despite the exhausted rasp in his voice, Tony could hear the fury tucked away. Oh right. He'd threatened Loki just after the revelation that he'd invaded his mind and stolen his memories.

Well, he wasn't touching that with a ten foot pole. He busied himself by checking over Clint, noting absently the cuts and bruises that adorned his skin in morbid patterns, the only remaining physical record of his near-death. Guilt pooled in his stomach when he realised that he was entirely unmarked thanks to Loki's healing powers, simply because the god had gotten to him first.

"Tony!" He jerked around at the shout, startled. Bruce was scrambling towards them with a med kit tucked under one arm and hair sticking in all directions, telltale tears over his shoulders and down his sleeves. He hadn't Hulked but he'd teetered on the brink. "God, are you alright?"

Relief started to slip through his bloodstream. "I'm fine but Clint could use a look. Loki too, if he'll let you."

As soon as the doctor laid eyes on Clint his whole face went white then almost instantly green, body freezing in surprise and horror as he gaped helplessly. It took Tony a second to realise that the archer was still covered in blood, dirt and ash and no doubt looked as though he was already long gone. "Bruce! It's alright, he's okay! Loki saved him. He's alive I promise."

It took a good few minutes for Bruce to stagger the remaining feet to Tony's side and reach for the archer's neck, looking for the pulse that would be more reassuring than words could ever be.

"It's okay," Tony murmured to him softly, rubbing his shoulder in the way he'd seen people do in films. He was getting better but he still wasn't great with the whole 'comfort' thing.

"Is he...?" Bruce gestured toward Loki who was still just laying there, apparently content to play dead.

"Still alive. Maybe unconscious."

"Oh. Should I... help?"

"Do not touch me," Loki replied quietly, his lips barely moving to let the words pass. Tony jumped.

There was a pause in which no one quite knew what to do before the silence was broken by a soft chirping beep and Bruce pulled an old, handheld radio out of his pocket. "Natasha?"

"I've got Steve and Thor. Tell me you have the others," she ordered and even though her voice was muffled with static, Tony could hear the concern there that didn't want to show itself. She could pretend all she wanted but this team was her family and it meant more to her than she was willing to admit.

"Yeah, I've got them. Tony's unhurt..."

"And Clint?" She asked when the pause dragged for a moment too long.

"He's alive. He... He's a bit of a mess but nothing too serious. I don't think it's safe to move him."

"I'll come to you then," Natasha offered instantly.

Bruce busied himself with checking the archer over, making mental notes on every scrape he could find and relishing the jolts of relief he felt when he remembered that everyone was still alive. Unneeded, Tony stepped backwards, stretching out the muscles that had begun aching again now that his worry had abated. He really was exhausted and all he wanted to do was fall into a bed for the next week - he should be so lucky. S.H.I.E.L.D would be breathing down his neck in no time and Fury would send people over to make sure-

Oh. This could be a problem.

"Loki? I get that you just want to curl up and die right now but you really need to get your shit together and get the hell out of here. Like, right now. Come on," he tried to pull the god up but his hands were slapped away viciously. Loki hadn't even opened his eyes. "Come on. You can pass out downstairs. In a few moments there's going to be S.H.I.E.L.D agents swarming this place and if they find you in this state I don't rate your chances."

That seemed to revive the god somewhat, tired eyes fluttering open to fix on him. Normally the green in his irises glowed with power, with magic, but now they looked so utterly drained that it was almost frightening to see those grey orbs staring at him. It was why Tony was so stunned when the god started to rise. His movements were slow and lethargic, similar to someone waking up from heavily drugged sleep and the engineer reached to help automatically before he managed to stop himself. Loki wouldn't welcome his aid.

"I need rest," he admitted when he was back - somewhat shakily - on his feet, as if it wasn't already glaringly obvious. "Somewhere they will not find me."

Tony only had to think about it for a moment; there was only one place in the whole tower that even Fury wouldn't dare force himself into.

"You can stay in my lab. It's secure. They won't find you."

"Tony," Bruce muttered from where he was still kneeling by Clint's side, staring at him like he was insane. Maybe he was. The lab was his sanctuary, the room in which he felt truly safe and he was about to let an enemy in to recuperate?

'No,' he reminded himself. 'I'm about to let the man who just saved my friend get some rest.'

"It's fine Bruce," he reassured before turning back to Loki. He didn't look as though he'd make the journey down there but come hell or high water the god would try. "Come on then."

As expected, once they reached the lab Loki literally fell onto the cot and passed out. By the time they'd reached the right floor Tony had been fairly sure he'd end up having to drag the god the rest of the way but somehow he managed to find the strength to take those remaining few steps on shaky legs even though it had left his body gasping painfully.

"Jarvis? How are we doing?" Tony found himself sinking onto the sofa that was shoved into the corner of the room. He was far too drained to even attempt to do work now.

"Several agents have now made their way into the building," the AI informed pleasantly. "I have restricted access to this floor to exclude all but the Avengers, Loki Laufeyson and Miss Potts. You should also be informed that your arc reactor is at 6% power."

He'd almost forgotten about that. Even though he knew it was nothing more than his imagination, he thought he could feel the electromagnet straining, gradually dying out like a flickering light bulb and taking his life with it. Hardly the most pleasant of feelings. There was a spare reactor in a drawer on the other side of the room and several more downstairs in the vault but at that moment in time he found he simply didn't have the energy left to stand and retrieve one. Six percent would last him until tomorrow.

Tony couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up slowly, without being jolted from violent, dark dreams full of monsters and not enough air and today was no exception. He was lying on the floor beside the sofa, sweating cooling on his skin and the afghan pulled over his lower half - Dummy's work no doubt.

Getting upright was harder than it should have been. It felt like he'd pulled all the muscles in his body simultaneously and he was full of a dull throbbing ache but he pushed through it. As soon as he was standing his eyes automatically fell on the figure sat at his desk.

The figure sat at his desk that was staring at him with bright green eyes, anger just peeking out from behind the blank mask he wore. Loki.

"So, err, feeling better?" So maybe he was a little intimidated; anyone would be in this situation, he wasn't a coward.

"I am rested. My magic has returned to me."

Tony didn't quite know what to say to that so he just made his way across the room - giving Loki a wider berth than was perhaps strictly necessary - and fumbled for the second reactor. Tony kept his eyes down as he pulled out the old one from under his shirt, staring at the table in front of him as his hands did what he'd practiced a thousand times. He'd taken the time to ensure his hands knew the reactors, recognised their touch and could manipulate them even when his mind was miles away - when you're falling into cardiac arrest it's not easy to concentrate on such things.

"It is most strange," Loki observed quietly. His anger, it would seem, was the type to build in silence before being unleashed in one violent blast - it would explain a lot.

"What's that?"

"Other mortals do not have such devices. No other race I know of requires a power source quite like that. What are you?"

"Human."

"What more than that?" There was a strange tilt to his mouth when he said that, as though he was sharing a private joke with himself.

"The reactor doesn't power me. I'm not a robot."

"But you need it for something. Your suits run from similar sources but they all have their own machines." He gestured to the armours lined up in glass cases along the back wall, each chest shining with the same blue light. "If it was only to power them, why would you need one too?"

"I don't owe you this."

The anger flared to the surface on Loki's face but he beat it back. "You took my memories. It seems only fair you answer a reasonable question in return."

It was true but this wasn't a story Tony wanted to tell. Very few people knew the truth of his reactor and giving that kind of advantage to an enemy? But then, he'd stolen the exact same thing. "Damn it. Can't you ask something else? There's got to be something more interesting that you want to know."

"The fact that you don't want to tell me is enough of a reason to ask."

The engineer sighed quietly, rubbing absentmindedly at the new reactor. "The reactor powers a magnet. That's it. It's just a really fancy, expensive magnet."

"But why do you need it?"

"There's... in my chest. There're some shards of metal. Shrapnel. The magnet stops them from shredding my heart. Without the reactor I die."

"What happened? It's something traumatic or you wouldn't have such difficulty telling me. You move around this... reactor with familiarity so the event was some time ago and yet you catch yourself every so often and glance at it like it's foreign; you can't have had it more than a handful of years."

"Almost five," Tony put it, somewhat impressed.

Loki nodded frowning. "There's also the way you touch it when you get nervous. You're doing it now." Tony's hand dropped into his lap instantly, drawing a victorious smile from Loki. "A trust issue then. In some way it's a betrayal to you - its continued presence brings you reassurance."

"It was taken from me," Tony admitted slowly. "By the very same man that caused me to need it."

The god's lips twitched, an eyebrow raised. "You speak with a venom I had not come to expect for you. This man was... important. His betrayal was more significant than you would want me to know."

"You'd give Sherlock Holmes a run for his money."

"You are, of course, aware that I have no idea what that means."

"Yeah."

Loki let it hang there for just a moment before his curiosity won out. "Tell me then. I truly wish to know what happened. I have little faith that you'll believe me but for whatever it is worth, I will not turn this information against you."

"Obadiah," Tony said, like ripping off a band aid. The name still hurt his heart. "He was... a father to me when Howard sucked. I told you I came from an unhappy family? Well my father was more interested in our dear Captain than in his only son and my mother was too terrified of him to stand in his way. Obie-" He stopped himself. "Obadiah filled in the gaps they left. Picked me up when I was down, never let me feel too alone. When my folks died it was him that pulled my ass out of the mud and got me moving again, got me sober and functional. Then one day I go to Afghanistan.

"It was a regular weapons demo, just like I'd done a thousand times. But then our convoy was attacked by a terrorist organisation called the Ten Rings and I was taken hostage - not before having a bomb explode in my face though. One of my bombs. It literally had my name plastered on the side of it and it damn near killed me. Still could, should my reactor fail for whatever reason. I found out later that Obadiah had paid the organisation a substantial amount of money for them to kill me so that he could take over the company as CEO without having to endure a legal battle with me that he would undoubtedly lose."

"But they did not. Why didn't they just let you die?"

"Greed. I believe that's a sensation with which you are well acquainted." He'd made the jab out of an ingrained habit: if feeling threatened, attack. But it didn't have the expected outcome and Loki simply shrugged, unrepentant or dismissive. He knew his faults. "They wanted me to build them weapons. I was something of a legend when it came to weapon development and they thought that they could leave me in a room full of technology and I'd just do what they told me to."

Loki was quiet for a very long moment. "Are they dead? Did you find your revenge?"

He didn't want to answer that, to admit his own savagery but he was sitting before one of the few people in all the realms that wouldn't judge him for it, who could actually understand the brutality. "I burned them, along with all of my weapons. Any time a Stark Industries missile turns up, Iron Man makes it disappear."

"You regret your actions."

"Don't we all?"

"Perhaps, but not always for the right reasons. People such as my brother and your Captain would have you believe that killing is always wrong and you should punish yourself for the deaths of men that would have happily seen you burn. Others would question why you didn't do something sooner when all the information was before you."

"I should have known where my weapons were going. They never should have gotten to terrorists."

Loki frowned at him minutely, studying his face. "And yet, this is not what you regret."

"How would you know?"

"Despite what you think of me, greed is not the only emotion I have the capacity to feel. Guilt is not as foreign to me as many seem to believe."

Tony hesitated but what was the point? Loki was a perceptive bastard and he already knew what he was going to say, he just want to hear the words. Maybe it was about time Tony said it aloud. "I don't regret their deaths. Not at all. For all I'm supposed to be a hero, I killed almost fifty men singlehandedly and I don't feel sorry. That's what I'm guilty of. My regret is that for all the good I'm supposed to do and feel, there's not one inch of me that feels remorse for what I did."

"And that is what makes you the hero, and me the villain."

"I thought you felt guilty."

"I do. But not something like that. The parallel I can draw is the Chitauri and I fully intend to see every one of their foul race in the dirt at my feet. When I do so, I will not feel remorse and nor shall I grieve its absence. They have done me wrong, and I will see them repaid in full."

"And you won't feel anything?"

"Do I look like someone inclined to weeping over fallen foes?"

"You look like someone who feels like they've gone too far to be anything but evil. Maybe you don't regret what you've done but you don't like where it's got you."

The god shifted, uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Is that my memories talking?"

He wanted to deny it but at this stage he couldn't really separate what was Loki and what was him. The memories were clear, an obvious divide but the emotions had pooled together and now he couldn't tell them apart. "I don't know. Maybe. I am sorry for that, honestly. I didn't mean for it to happen."

"I know you didn't. It's the only reason I'm letting you live."

"So you're not planning on tearing me into little pieces? That's always nice to know."

"Well, at least not yet. Though don't believe this forgives you for your threats. I have not forgotten that you forced me into a near-comatose state simply because you had power over me."

"Clint was dead. It was something of a special case."

"And when Thanos comes? It is unlikely that any of us will survive this war and you need to be ready for the fact that you'll have to say goodbye to a friend. There's no space for grief on a battlefield."

"I know that," Tony snapped back, feeling stung all of a sudden. "I'm not new to this game Princess."

"Insults? Really?"

"If there's one thing you should know about me, it's that nothing is below me. Petty insults? Most certainly not."

"Physical differences aside, you are strange for a mortal."

"How would you know? I could list the number of mortals you know on one hand and most of them could barely be considered human, much less average."

"Perhaps."

"Oh quit with the enigmatic answers, would you?" Tony whined. He was feeling remarkably calm about this whole conversation. Having a window into Loki's mind had done sometime in the way of building a trust between them, at least on his side. "You're not impressing anyone."

"Thankfully, I do not act with the intention of providing you amusement." He sniffed haughtily.

Trying to swallow laughter, Tony reeled for something to distract himself. "Jarvis, talk to me. What's happening?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D agents have not yet left. The tower has been secured and no one is seriously wounded. Agent Barton has been moved to the medical floor for rest, along with Captain Rogers though both look as though they should be recovered in a matter of days. The Captain sustained a few broken bones and a concussion but his healing rate far exceeds standard parameters."

"Clint's alright then?"

Loki huffed, affronted. "It might have almost killed me, but I did my job. Do not start doubting me now."

"I wasn't doubting, per se, it's just... you didn't exactly look healthy yourself. Who's to say you didn't miss something?"

"I did not."

"Well, now I know. Lesson learned. Is there anything else I should be aware of, J?"

"Director Fury is calling for a meeting. Should I tell him that you will attend?"

It only took him a moment to think about it. He needed time to look into all the information they had about the bomb and who had put it there and besides, he wasn't about to leave Loki alone in his lab. "Nah. Tell him that if he wants to see me, he should make a house call once in a while. Meanwhile, give me everything you have on Fisk and whatever data there is leading up to the explosion. I want this fucker's head."

"In that, I might just be able to help you," Loki offered. "It would appear my freedom is restricted until Fury's men have left, I might as well be of use."

It made sense. The only reason they had Fisk's name was because Loki had given it to them and he'd proven he could dig out information where there was none to be found. At the very least, it could be interesting to work with a genius psychopath. "Sure. Why the hell not?"

This is going to be my longest fic yet, I believe. That's a little scary.

I'm making up timescales here - I don't know how much time there's been since Afghanistan and now. [My beta has now informed me that general consensus is that Iron Man 1 is 2008 and Avengers is 2012 - assuming this story is only a few months after Avengers then 4 years is probably roughly accurate.]