Hey guys. I'm awfully sorry about not being able to update sooner – I was moving and therefore under a lot of stress lately. I won't be able to update that regularly for the next couple of weeks, but I'll try my best. Also I outlined the fic yesterday and there will be about 23 more chapters. At least.

Special thanks go to Jayne and Emma for betaing.

Have fun.

He dreams of Peggy, like he does every night. In his dreams, he is waiting for her – or is she waiting for him? She is wearing a beautiful dress in a color he can't remember when he wakes up, but it doesn't really matter, since he believes she's beautiful in whatever she is wearing. Sometimes, she has her hair tied up, sometimes it is let down, making her look younger and almost innocent. However she looks, she's always smiling at him with her full, red lips, blushing a little when she sees him. In his dreams, they are dancing.

He wakes up sweaty and exhausted, feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. At some point during the night, he realizes, he must have kicked off his blanket. Sighing, he runs his hands through his blond hair, letting himself fall back into his pillow again. His eyes are open, staring up at the ceiling. Peggy's image is still in his head - her eyes, her long lashes, her smile. He tries to recall her unique scent, but with a desperate gasp he realizes that he can't remember anymore. The image of Peggy is slowly fading, as is everything of his old life. Sighing, he closes his eyes again, trying to recall what her voice sounded like. But he doesn't know anymore. He forgets. He tries not to, he tries to cling to the last remaining vivid memories… but he knows, deep inside of him, that it is no use. His eyes stay closed for the remainder of the night, but he doesn't fall asleep again.

Hours later, he finds himself sitting in the kitchen with a huge coffee mug in front of him. He stares at the paper, trying to read it, but today the words hardly make any sense. The letters blur in front of his eyes, and so he stares into thin air instead, lost in thought. It is not only Peggy who's been haunting his dreams lately. It's Bucky, Howard, his parents… how the way of life back then was so different from what it is now, the way everything was more slow-paced, more real. If Tony could hear his thoughts, he would have rolled his eyes by now, he is sure of that. Maybe this is why he still can't exactly say he is friends with the billionaire, even after more than four months. Well, he's sure it's at least one of the reasons.

No one seems to understand his problem with the present day. Except Thor - but Thor is not the right person to speak to about things like these. Which is why he sticks to not talking about it at all, and trying as hard as possible to adapt.

After some time he hears footsteps coming closer, but he doesn't exactly pay attention to them.

"Hey, Steve." It's Bruce, looking almost as miserable as Steve feels himself. The Doc lets himself fall into one of the chairs opposite Steve, his curly hair disheveled and his clothes looking like he had slept in them.

"Good morning?", he asks, making it sound like a question. Steve shakes his head.

"No. Not really." Bruce lifts one corner of his mouth into a tiny, lopsided smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Me neither."

It seems like forever, and the two of them sit opposite each other in almost complete silence until Bruce lets out a sigh.

"I may have done something very, very dumb," he says, and Steve is yanked out of his daydreaming with a start.

"Why? What happened?"

"Loki happened," Bruce answers cryptically - and for a second, Steve thinks he can see anger in Bruce's eyes, but it is gone immediately afterwards.

"I… I talked to Loki yesterday. Long story short, I am going to do some sightseeing with him today."

"Sightseeing." Steve lifts an eyebrow.

"You know, I want to show him how many people actually got killed because of him and the Chitauri."

Steve nods slowly. The Chitauri damaged a couple of buildings pretty badly, which resulted in many people dying. There are still masses of flowers and lights burning for the dead, right beside the road.

"This might not even be that bad an idea, Bruce." At least, Steve thinks, there is the slight chance of Loki regretting his actions when he sees how many people actually still mourn for the dead.

"Could you come with me?" Bruce suddenly asks. "I'd rather not take the risk of going there with him alone. I'm on the edge of hulking out whenever I see him."

"Okay."

Bruce doesn't have to say anything else. Steve has seen it in his eyes in numerous occasions, the fear of not being able to control himself, the fear of the Hulk getting too powerful. Bruce does well, actually, his self-control is amazing… but still, he must feel like being a living time-bomb.

"It's going to be alright, you'll see."

"Where is he?" Bruce mumbles, pacing up and down the hallway in front of the elevator. If this wasn't Loki they were speaking about, Steve would probably compare Bruce's behavior to a teenage boy waiting for his date to arrive. Well, he wouldn't exactly say this out loud, but still. Now, the only thing he can do is to smile reassuringly at Bruce, who still looks like he might lose his nerve any moment now.

He buries his hands in his leather jacket – it would be better to avoid being noticed, especially with Loki in tow. There was still the possibility of people recognizing the god of mischief, so Steve had gone for a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a brown leather jacket, and Bruce dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white button-down. They have to remain inconspicuous, so as not to draw too much attention. He can see the outline of a gun under Bruce's shirt, tucked under the waistband of his jeans. Before he can ask the Doc if he really thinks a gun is necessary, the elevator opens and Loki steps out, grinning widely.

Loki's hair is not braided this time, instead it is resting on his shoulders, curling up at the ends. The God is wearing a t-shirt - and Steve thinks someone must have thought it would be a nice joke to let Loki wear a shirt with a huge S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem printed on it. Yet with the way Loki is grinning at him, baring his slightly pointed teeth… he doesn't feel like laughing. The God raises an eyebrow at him, unsettling the super-soldier, and Loki's grin gets even wider.

"Dr. Banner, Captain. What a pleasure."

"Loki." Steve can hear Bruce hissing through gritted teeth - and for a moment he thinks he is missing something, judging from the way Bruce is staring at Loki, and the look of pure satisfaction on Loki's face.

"You need a jacket. Those runes probably won't pass for tattoos," Bruce says, avoiding Loki's gaze. But before Loki can turn around and walk into the elevator again to fetch something to wear, Steve slips out of his jacket and hands it over to the trickster, who stares at is skeptically.

"This'll have to do, come on, let's go." He doesn't want to risk Bruce losing it before their little excursion has even started - and more importantly, he wants to get over with it as soon as possible, so he turns around and heads for the exit, where there is already a black S.H.I.E.L.D. car parked. Without further comment, Steve slides behind the wheel, and with a short glance at Bruce, the Doc shoves Loki in the car and takes a seat right behind Steve.

"Where are we going?" Loki asks after a couple of minutes, clearly uncomfortable. From what Steve can see in the back seat, he is eyeing the street curiously, and he looks slightly terrified every time a car passes them.

"You'll see," Bruce hisses, still refusing to look at Loki. In the rearview mirror, Bruce's skin looks paler than usual, almost to the point where he looks a bit sick. It could be the light, Steve doesn't know, but he can clearly see the disgusted look on Bruce's face. By now, the Captain feels sure that he's missed out on something. Something important.

It wouldn't normally take long to drive to the memorial – it's only a couple of blocks away, and to be honest, driving there seems to Steve like a waste of fuel. But today, there's traffic everywhere the eye can see, and he has to go almost at a walking pace.

There is an uncomfortable silence in the car, and Steve wishes he would have had time to figure out how the radio works – even the mindless, awful music of the 21st century is better than having Bruce pointedly staring out of the window and Loki scowling at everything, both of them not talking.

They arrive after twenty minutes and Steve parks the car, inwardly cursing at the incompetent driver that used two parking spots, making it almost impossible to fit his car in the small space that is left.

"We're here," Steve mumbles quietly, staring at the hundreds of lights, flowers, pictures and occasional teddy-bear in front of the now abandoned building. Casualties. This is what the media called the close to 100 people that died during the attack of the Chitauri, most of them when the Leviathans demolished parts of the building in this area. Casualties.

"Get out of the car." Steve opens the door and steps out, soon followed by Bruce who looks like he is going to puke and Loki, who seems even thinner in the oversized jacket he is wearing. Loki stares at a woman who is kneeling in front of the heaps of flowers, crying quietly, and a small, bemused smile forms on his lips.

"So, what exactly is it you want me to see?" he mumbles, more to himself than to Bruce and Steve. His hands are buried in the pockets of Steve's jacket, and the wind is blowing his hair in his face.

Bruce makes a couple of steps forward until he reaches a photo of a small girl. There are several small candles, most of them lit, some of them already blown out by the wind.

"Jennifer Steward. Ten years old. We miss you, darling. Love, Mum and Dad," he reads. "Dad, there is not a single day we don't think of you. Kara and Dan. Toby, I never told you, but I love you. Cristina."

"Those are the people that died when you attacked." Loki turns his head away from Bruce to Steve.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Those people are dead because of you. Innocent people. People who just happened to be there." Bruce's voice is toneless and he still stares at the masses of photos and flowers. He squats down, brushing over the pictures and letters.

Loki lets out a small laugh. "Well… I did not kill them on purpose, rest assured. As you said, those people just happened to be there."

Bruce still has his back to Loki and Steve, but the Captain can see something shifting in the scientist. No, please don't. The change is so subtle, almost not recognizable, and he can't even tell what it is exactly. Maybe it is his posture, the way he is tensing, or maybe it is the way his whole body just started trembling slightly. Whatever it is, it is bad, but Steve knows better than to say anything – he knows how telling Bruce to calm down would only worsen the situation.

"Those were people, Loki. Isn't there even one tiny part of you that regrets what you have done?" Bruce hisses, still not looking at the trickster.

"Why would I mourn over mortals? Why would I regret killing them? If you stepped on an anthill, would you mourn over the death of those insects?"

"You… you can't compare humans to ants!" Bruce hisses and this time he turns around. He obviously tries to keep his voice low, but his whole body is trembling, and he is panting heavily while his skin slowly turns green.

Steve reaches forward to Loki and pulls him away from Bruce - but before manages that, Loki looks the scientist directly in the eye.

"For me, they are all the same," the trickster whispers, before Steve pulls him away. He opens one of the car's doors and shoves Loki in.

"You. Don't even try to get out of here." In the corner of his eye he can see Bruce stepping backwards, turning around and running away. Loki just grins when Steve fumbles out the key and locks the doors of the car.

As soon as the car is locked, Steve spins on his heels and takes off in the direction he thinks Bruce has been running - although he's not entirely sure, as he can't see the Doc anywhere. Eventually, the street narrows down a bit and there are small alleys to his left and right.

"Bruce!"

"I'm… I'm here." Steve turns around to the sound of Bruce's voice, and finds him sitting on the ground next to a garbage can, leaning against the wall. His white shirt is already dirty, but Bruce doesn't seem to notice or care, all he does is breathe heavily.

"Hey. It's all right. I locked him in the car." He takes a couple of steps towards Bruce until he reaches him and bends down to his level, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I… I have no idea what's wrong with me at the moment. I can't control myself when he is around, I just…"

"It's okay." He takes Bruce's hand, pulling him up; and despite the smaller man still trembling, he is relatively steady on his feet. Bruce is looking at him almost desperately, not letting go of his hand.

"I haven't slept since he's been in Stark Tower. I can't concentrate without sleep. I… I'm a ticking time bomb right now."

Steve doesn't have to say it – that since the trickster has arrived at Stark Tower, he hasn't slept that well either. Most of the time he just lies in bed with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep, haunted by his nightmares. He doesn't have to say it. He knows Bruce probably doesn't feel much different.

"He can't stay here forever." Not that he entirely believes what he's saying, but he can see the slight glimmer of hope in Bruce's eyes. There are advantages of being the Captain, Steve muses, still not taking his eyes off Bruce. One of those advantages is that people are much more likely to believe what he is saying.

"No. He can't. We have to get rid of him. For… for Tony." There is something the Doc isn't telling him, he's completely sure of that by now. But the despair in his eyes, paired with his still-trembling fingers and too fast breathing, makes Steve nod in agreement. He pulls Bruce closer until he embraces him in an awkward hug.

"We are stronger than he is. And we will get rid of him, eventually. You'll see, one day he'll regret what he did. One day, he will understand." Steve can feel the other man's forehead resting on his shoulder, and Bruce's hands encircling him.

"It was a bad idea, taking him here," Bruce mumbles.

"It was a start."