As there seemed no hurry to go, Loki set aside two more days for Barnes to heal and gain his strength back. He started to hobble around the house, and Loki felt more comfortable leaving him with the pistol while he went to scavenge food. There was little left to find in the neighboring houses, but he hunted two sleepy birds with his daggers, remembering belatedly how much he hated cleaning birds. Roasting the birds over his heated bricks proved tricky until Barnes pointed out that there was a perfectly good oven that should work with hot bricks just as well as burning coal. Yet it turned into a delicious feast, especially when he added the bottle of apple brandy he'd found.

Barnes' injuries were healing well, but his arm continued to pain him greatly. Loki didn't know what to do about that, if anything; Barnes reassured him it would go away, but Loki was doubtful when it lingered. He decided he might as well look at it, now that Barnes already knew about his power. "Sit up and let me see the arm."

He undid the sling, checked the shoulder, which seemed healed, and then the amputation site, finding it clear of infection. It would have been difficult to believe it had happened only a few days ago, if Loki hadn't been the one who had done it. There was nothing on the surface which indicated ongoing problems.

Barnes watched him, intrigued by Loki doing this for the first time while he was awake. "So this is how you do it?"

"There is a… substance, the underlying fabric of the universe, which I learned to manipulate at a young age," Loki explained absently, while he probed the end to see where the problem was. Ah, the blood vessels and such were cauterized, but the nerves were not, sending signals of alarm and distress. He held out his hand, peering deeply into the injury, and spun the threads to heal again, soothing the raw and broken ends.

Barnes let out a soft sigh and sagged backward in relief. "Oh, God, that feels… amazing. I didn't realize how much it had hurt until it didn't…"

"I should have done it before. You can tell me, if something is still bothering you."

"You've done so much already."

Loki shook his head. "James. These many days since you and I were rescued from Austria have helped me more than you will ever understand." He leaned back, holding out his hands on his knees and looking at his wrists. There was no sign of his injuries; they had healed as if they had never happened at all, but in his mind, the wounds lingered, reminding of that pain and stirring the rage in his heart. He sought words to explain to Barnes. "It is an easy thing when you have power to believe you are a god. In that, I understand Schmidt all too well. But you and Rogers kept me tethered to humanity, in a way that I wouldn't have been alone, consumed by rage and revenge."

Barnes nodded after a moment and smiled. "So we're friends? That what you're saying?"

"If… that's all right with-" Loki faltered into uncertainty, cursing his tongue for failing him in these times when he no longer knew how to behave and what to say, when the words became too important for speech.

Barnes reached his good hand to seize Loki's arm. "Hell yes," he said, then added with charming honesty, "I promise to keep your secret. I know it was hard for you to trust me with it."

Loki's lips twisted wryly. "I'm afraid there is no keeping that a secret," he gestured to Barnes, meaning his arm and the rest of his body nearly all healed from his terrible fall. "Either you did it yourself, altered by Schmidt and Hydra, or I did it. In truth, I believe it was both, James; you had some benefit from that serum they gave you." Barnes' brow lowered and he grimaced, nodding a slow acceptance, much to Loki's surprise. He'd expected Barnes to be more shocked. "You suspected?"

"Nothing overt, but I didn't seem to be getting tired as quickly as I used to. Little stuff. But yeah. I thought there was something." He fell silent for a long moment until Loki thought maybe he'd forgotten anyone else was in the room. "Don't know if I wanna be a lab rat. Can't go fight like Steve." He glanced at the sling, and Loki felt another twinge of guilt. "You know it'll be my 'patriotic duty' to figure out what happened to me. How to make it work on someone else."

"No, they won't," Loki promised. "Not again, not for either of us."

"I don't think we can stop it."

Loki thought about it for a moment, and said, "We don't have to tell them the truth. They already know about me- not everything, but enough. We can say I gave you a transfusion of my own blood and that healed you."

Barnes frowned at him. "No, no, then they'd just do the same to you."

"I am not American, and I am under no obligation to submit to their experiments."

"I don't know," Barnes said uneasily. "You get known for having magic blood, people can do a lot of crazy things to take that."

"Why do you think I have kept what I can do a secret?" Loki returned dryly. "Being Schmidt's toy was enough. But I can withstand our allies better than you can." They already knew he would retaliate with lethal force if anyone attempted to take him captive, but Barnes was right: someone was going to try and Loki might have to demonstrate his sincerity. He rubbed at his wrist with his thumb, phantom twinges reminding him that he was not going to let it happen again.

"Lying to everybody doesn't seem right either..."

"It's not fully a lie. Your own healing must sprout from my blood in the first place, in the potions Schmidt gave you. In fact, it's possible the reason the others died, and you did not, was that you already shared my blood."

"Already? What do you mean?"

Loki decided Barnes already knew enough that he might as well hear Loki's theory. "As my descendant."

Barnes frowned. "That can't be. You're my age."

Loki smiled. "I'm older than I look, James."

Loki saw him put it together as his eyes went wide. "Oh." A heartbeat later another piece fell into place and he blurted, "Oh!" Loki chuckled at the reaction, wondering what all he'd put together, but instead of asking how old Loki was, as expected, Barnes said, "My family isn't from Arendelle."

"There was a time I wandered much of the world. And I paid no attention to any offspring I might be leaving behind," Loki admitted. "I didn't realize it was possible until much later. But the point is, you must have my blood in you, perhaps naturally, but certainly as part of Hydra experiments. So it isn't a lie."

"I think my mom would say 'James Buchanan Barnes, dressing up bullshit in fancy clothes is still bullshit'," Barnes imitated his mother's scolding voice, making Loki snicker at the thought of Frigga saying that, but then frowned, cocking his head to the side to examine Loki. "Is it weird that you could be my great-grandpa or whatever?"

"I wouldn't be concerned, it's probably not true. I don't sense your relation to me as I can with Birgitte," Loki told him, more dismissively. Though he still wondered, since Birgitte had likely strengthened her descent through intermarriage with distant relatives. Without that the relation would be thinner still. He'd keep it to himself that it was non-human blood. Barnes had enough to manage. "It's only a theory."

"But a cool one," Barnes decided and nodded. "Yep, I like it. Gramps."

Loki narrowed his eyes at Barnes. "Just remember I can put you to sleep."

Barnes of course didn't give up on his teasing. "Does this mean I get to be in the Arendelle royal family?"

"No."

Barnes chuckled, delighted by Loki's abrupt refusal. "Fine. Be that way." He thought about the situation and lifted his hand. "But wait, if we're putting it on you anyway, why don't we tell the truth?"

Loki rose from the wooden chair to look out the small window. It was still winter out there, though at least there'd been no new snowfall. They were going to have to get out before another storm hit, or they might be trapped here for weeks. "A blood transfusion is pedestrian and forgettable. They already know I have 'magic blood.' But healing by touch is a miracle. Or witchcraft. It's not an experience I wish to repeat." Not because they'd hurt him, which they hadn't, but their panicked attempt to kill him when he'd been trying to help, had drawn forth the demon again. He'd gotten angry at their ingratitude, lost control, and left a massacre in his wake.

It had been another snowy place, and he shut his eyes trying to not see its shadow out in the bare winter field. But he remembered anyway. He'd thought he hadn't cared at the time, but the memories had crept into his dreams, reminding him that he could never escape, never forget. A monster doing monstrous things.

Barnes knew enough of history to grimace in sympathy. "Fair enough. I'll keep the secret." His gaze shifted to the sling. "You think maybe I'll heal this? Grow my hand back?"

Loki wanted to say yes, even though he was nearly certain the answer was no. He blinked and said, "There is a slim possibility, as I don't know the limits of this, but no, my experience is that loss of limbs or organs-" he thought of Odin and added, "like an eye, do not reform."

Barnes nodded, disappointed, but not very surprised. "Kinda thought so." He pondered a bit more and added with a flashing grin, "You know, it's because I thought I might be different was how I caught on to you plucking bullets out of the air and shit like that."

"I never did that!" Loki protested, laughing.

"I notice you're not saying you can't… Jesus, you are such a freak."

Anyone else saying that Loki would've been hurt, but with Barnes, he knew the mortal was teasing and didn't mean it in a hurtful way. Loki folded his arms and glared at him in mock offense. "So are you. If you're feeling so much more chipper, we should be on our way tomorrow. Before Steven gives up on us for dead."

Barnes snorted. "I'm surprised he hasn't come crashing through the door looking for us. But yes, I'm ready as I'll ever be, I think."

It was fun to use his powers openly. He didn't have to worry about Barnes finding out, since he already knew, and his slack-jawed amazement was gratifying as they acquired a new vehicle and Loki drove it through the gate of the airfield with the enemy saluting as if Himmler himself was coming to inspect them.

"Who the hell am I supposed to be?" Barnes demanded in a whisper, leaning forward to whisper to his "driver".

"Colonel of the SS," Loki answered, grinning at him over his shoulder.

"Holy shit."

Loki snickered to himself but warned more seriously, "Do try to keep up appearances, Colonel. The illusion will hold, but if you do too much wrong they'll still know we're impostors."

They pulled up and Loki went to arrange immediate transport to Berlin with the air supervisor, easily able to cow him with news of the colonel's injury and urgent need to report.

It was a plane not too different from the one that had taken them to Britain the first time, though at least this one smelled better. He escorted his injured colonel in the tidy black and gray uniform up inside the fuselage.

The plane stood at a strong tilt to the back, and he offered a surreptitious steadying hand to Barnes as an officious young steward escorted them forward with a great many apologies for the state of the aircraft and its lack of proper amenities.

I think I will kill you first, Loki promised the young man silently, narrowing his eyes. So concerned about whether the colonel will have schnapps in the middle of this horrific slaughter. No mercy. Not for any of you.

Barnes sat down as other officers came aboard with their assistants, and Loki and Barnes endured all the formalities, as Loki wondered whether they would get away with this long enough to make their move.

Finally, the hatch was closed, with two young men to serve the eight passengers, three more men in the cockpit and one aft gunner. Barnes' eyes met his as the planes engines sputtered to life and his hand clenched around the armrest.

The plane went level and began to taxi, and it was Loki's turn to grip the arm rests. Surely this clumsy heavy thing would fail to get off the ground, or would slam straight back down. I did not spend a week getting James back on his feet to lose him now to the humans' inability to build proper flying craft.

The plane launched into the air with a shaking roar like a belching dragon, and for an instant Loki thought of his dragon teacher on Vanaheim. She'd been an old one and canny. He wondered what she'd think of Midgard and especially their clumsy flying machines.

They lurched into the air, and the engines strained. Loki was sure they were going to crash… lift was never going to keep this tin can in the air.

But they leveled off to the short flight to Berlin and Loki knew the time was now. He stood up.

"Sir," the nearer steward rose from his seat to meet him, "Excuse me, sir, but you need to stay seated for the duration of the-"

"The Colonel wants a drink. And a cigarette."

The young man turned around to find the drink, while the officer seated behind Barnes and next to where Loki was now standing, pawed his jacket to find a cigarette. Loki stabbed the steward in the back with a dagger, pulled it out, and cut the throat of the one finding the cigarette. The others finally started shouting in alarm.

Fools. They had no chance. Only one managed to fire his weapon, point blank right at Loki's chest. He jerked back from the force of the blow, but smirked as the captain stared while Loki's uniform melted away for Asgardian combat leathers.

"What- what are you?" he whispered, his hand shaking on his weapon.

"I am the Ice Demon of Arendelle and you are all dead men." He didn't wait, striking like a viper to take down the captain. The rest of them on his end of the plane realized they couldn't shoot him and so they came at him hand-to-hand, as if that would somehow succeed where firearms would not. But Loki had been trained by the best with hundreds of years of experience, not to mention training with weapons-masters of Earth in his century of wandering. He didn't have to use his blades to kill them all. He dispatched two with his bare hands and that left the gunner, who knelt with his hands up.

"Surrender, I surrender. Have mercy," he begged.

"Mercy," Loki repeated. "I'm not known for that, but I had some, once." He leaned down to whisper coldly, "Then Germans burned my daughter's castle, rounded up my people to murder them, and tortured me for a year. There's not a lot left. But since you plead so nicely, I might find some for you." He lowered his bloodied dagger to his side, and at the moment the relief shone in the gunner's face that he would be spared, Loki lashed out with his foot, breaking the gunner's neck. He slumped to the floor and Loki grimaced in disgust. "That's more mercy than you deserve."

Meanwhile behind him, he heard Barnes warn the cockpit crew, "Don't." One handed or not, he could still use a gun with lethal effectiveness. "Course 165, Ein-seis-funf. Now. Pronto," Barnes ordered. "Change course or I blow your heads off and set it myself."

Loki turned in time to see the navigator try to rush Barnes and get whacked in the head with Barnes' pistol so hard he dropped like a stone. Without changing expression, looking as deadly serious as Loki had seen him, he asked, "Anyone else feel like being a hero? Nein? Then change the course."

Loki stalked up the aisle, stepping over the bodies, and Barnes glanced at him. "Where the hell did that outfit come from?"

"I changed it. It's my armor."

"Impressive. Ridiculous, but impressive. Can you tell these two morons to change the course? They're acting like they don't understand me."

Loki smiled at the pilot and co-pilot who were both looking at him. "I killed everyone else on this plane," he told them in German, continuing to smile. "If you want to live, you do as my friend orders. You take us where we wish to go, and you will be taken prisoner by the Allies. Otherwise you die."

"We… we could crash the plane," the co-pilot stammered. "We will all die."

Loki shook his head with mock sorrow. "No, my friend. We won't die. Only you will."

"What sort of monster are you?" the pilot demanded.

"The kind that will enjoy watching you die." Loki held up one of his daggers, hoping the blood dripping off it would make his point better than his words.

Apparently even Barnes was concerned and cautioned, without taking his eyes from the two Germans, "Lukas. They're going to do it, of course. They're not entirely stupid."

"Ja, ja, we take you," the pilot agreed hastily, staring with giant eyes at the dagger.

"And Britain will take us prisoner?" the copilot asked. "Not Russia? We hear very bad things from Russia."

"Yes, Britain and America," Barnes confirmed. "Not Russians."

With trembling hands the pilots swung the plane around into a heading south instead, to head over the mountains to Italy.

(tbc...
Next: the road trip ends and we check in on Steve)