Loki sat staring at his hands as the transport lifted off from the carrier and flew away. He'd escaped, as he knew he would, but he could feel his tightly maintained control fraying at the edges.

Everything had gone smoothly more or less. He'd been surprised that Thor had not come to his cell for another attempt to sway him. Surprised but thankful.

Fury had been easy to deal with. The man had used threats and Loki could deal with threats. There was nothing that Fury could do to him that was worse than what he had already gone through. The mask he had in place deflected Fury's words easier than batting away a fly. The conversation with the one they called the Black Widow however…that had been harder.

He'd been shaken by her explanation of the debt she owed Barton. It reminded him of the debt he had owed Meredith. Like Meredith, Barton had looked at a being steeped in blackness and seen light. Would Barton ever recover from what Loki had done to him? What if someone had taken Meredith and perverted her mind has Loki has done Barton's?

That thought had caused him to lose his temper. When he said she could never pay back the debt she owed Barton, he was speaking far more of himself.

"You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away!"

It was him. It was so clearly him. Why could she not see that? Why could no one see that? He felt a stirring deep inside his brain, as if the real Loki were banging against the walls of the mask, screaming, trying to tear a way out.

Viciously, he had let slip his plans for Banner. It was foolish. And it troubled him that it was the second time that he had given away details of his plans before he was ready. Why was he so badly off his game? Why couldn't he stay focused?

Was he off his game when he killed that man? Coulson, was it? Barton had talked of him. Did he kill him because he was distracted? Or had killing him really been the only option?

As the transport flew through the sky and towards New York, Loki couldn't force the image out of his head. The man had died bravely. But his final words kept going round and round in Loki's head.

"You're going to lose."

"Am I?" Loki had asked, desperate for something to distract him from what he'd just done.

"It's in your nature." Well that was true enough wasn't it? He always lost. Wasn't that what he'd told Nebula?

But this time he wasn't going to lose. This time there was too much at stake. "Your heroes are scattered, your floating fortress falls from the sky...where is my disadvantage?"

"You lack conviction."

Loki stared. This man, this man who he had just murdered, who he hadn't had one full conversation with…saw…him.

He did lack conviction. Even he had to admit that. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be fighting this battle.

Coulson saw this. And he saw into Loki's nature. What more could he see?

Hesitantly, trying to figure out how to respond, he opened his mouth to answer, and had been blasted back through a wall.

His body still ached from that but he supposed he should be thankful that he had not had to watch with his own eyes as Coulson breathed his last breathe.

The transport landed. They were in New York. It was time.

Loki straightened.

Now was not the time for doubts.