Author's Note: Going to try to catch up on crossposting this story from AO3 to here, though for anyone who wants the eight chapters I've posted over there that aren't here (I think it's eight?) they are there. I'm not, as a general rule, crossposting things to this site anymore, but because I did start posting this here...
"Can you explain to me what this thing is?" Fury asked, pausing the grainy, homemade video and gesticulating at the screen. The Limbo-spawn did not seem to take well to film, judging by the blurry distortion that was its form. Loki kept his hands folded on the table.
"A creature from the place in between dimensions," Loki said, a little flatly. "As I think you were told already."
"In between dimensions. Right. That's what Captain Rogers said you told him. Can you give me a little more than that, Agent Silver?" Fury was…more displeased than usual. Loki kept his face bland, as his lack of response seemed to irritate the man more.
"If you want a full explanation of dimensional theory, I could try, but it would require some background in both astrophysics and thaumaturgy that I don't believe you possess." Perhaps not so bland as that, then. Fury narrowed his one eye at Loki.
"Don't be a smartass," he said. "I have enough of those. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, isn't it?"
"Not precisely. I have only done a limited amount of study on conjuration and Limbo. I never found it particularly useful." He looked at the screen again. "If your concern is a duplication of this event…I doubt it. This particular creature is unlikely to be followed."
"Oh?" Fury crossed his arms. "Why do you say that?"
Because everything else in its former home is dead. Loki shrugged. "Call it an instinct. Of course it is possible for certain magic users to force similar events, but if this is the first time you have seen such a thing I doubt any of yours have worked it out."
Fury's lips thinned. "What about you, Agent Silver?" Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw Coulson shift. He raised his eyebrows.
"What about me, what?"
"Could you – force such an event?"
Loki felt his expression relax into one of boredom. Ah, so that was what the Director was cutting toward. "You suspect that this was my idea."
"You seem to end up at the center of a fair amount of trouble. And that you just happened to be within range of this – thing, when it attacked…"
Loki felt himself stiffen. "Of course – naturally, it must have been my doing." His voice sounded cold, the accusation like ice water in his face. "I must ask – what would I hypothetically gain from such a performance?"
"Maybe you're bored. Restless. Sick of being benched. Maybe you thought making some trouble and then fixing it…" Fury's eyes were hard. "Or maybe you just felt like causing a little mayhem. I'm just guessing here."
Loki stood up sharply, his chair scraping across the floor. "I see. Well, Director, as I doubt you will take my word for it…am I permitted to go? Or do you intend to put me in chains? Though I must admit attempting the latter would not go very well for you." He flashed his teeth, the expression meant to be unpleasant. Fury seemed unaffected.
"You're not leaving."
Loki turned to him, slowly. "Oh? Would you like to test that?" He could feel himself almost vibrating within his skin. Fury did not look impressed.
"Romanoff put your name forward as a candidate for the Avengers Initiative. Have you heard of it?"
Loki jerked like he'd been slapped. If that wasn't a non-sequitur, he couldn't figure out how, and if it was…had Fury been baiting him? Why? "Briefly," he said, which wasn't quite true. He'd heard the name, and a few jokes tossed around by other agents about Fury's project, but no more than that.
"She seems to think that you might be a good option. I have to admit that frankly, I don't see it. You're unstable at best and you can't follow orders worth a damn." Loki felt himself tense, his jaw tighten. "But you are powerful – more than you led us to believe, it seems – good in a fight, and you know things most of the rest of us don't." Fury eyed him, and now Loki wasn't sure whether to be complimented or insulted. "Well, Silver? Could you work with a team?"
Loki blinked, and then let out a stuttering laugh. "No," he said, with certainty. "Absolutely not."
Fury nodded, and cast a glance in Coulson's direction that Loki wasn't certain he could read. "That's about what I thought." He gestured at the screen. "I buy that you weren't involved in this…thing. But next time something like this happens, we'd appreciate a call. Even better, if you know a way of predicting this kind of event…"
"I do not."
Fury grunted. "Dismissed, then. And try to keep your head down. For an agent, you're making yourself awfully visible. Had at least six eyewitnesses give garbled accounts of what you did. You already put a target on yourself pulling that stunt with Osborn and Doom; don't make it any bigger."
Loki sketched a mocking bow, a little stung. "I will do my best."
"Do that," Fury said flatly, and turned his back.
Loki resented letting him have the last word, but stalked out, aware that any response would only sound petulant.
*.*
His apartment felt quiet and empty when he returned to it, and if he was exhausted in body and spirit his mind was still buzzing in a way he knew meant he wouldn't sleep. He sank down onto his couch, thoughts circling back to the more pressing concern than his own vague loneliness. Something was moving across the cosmos, towards Midgard, and he didn't know what it was.
All the books that might have told him something useful were in Asgard, and while he might be able to find his way back there, Loki shied away from even considering the thought. What bare knowledge he might glean was not worth the chance of discovery and what would undoubtedly follow. Though if he told the All-Father that Midgard was in danger…
Loki shut down that line of thought. Odin would not believe him, nor would anyone else. If they even gave him a chance to speak before sending for the headsman – if Thor didn't see to parting his head from his shoulders himself, Loki added, bitterly, something in him shriveling a little at the thought. No, Asgard was not an option.
Midgardians in general had so little knowledge of the rest of their universe and the world around them…he could not count on the technicians with SHIELD. They were clever, to be sure, but lacked understanding of the wider principles beyond what they could touch and see. If he wanted someone to speak with about this possible threat, he needed someone with at least rudimentary knowledge of Yggdrasil and the Nine.
Jane Foster's face bloomed in his mind's eye, and Loki wanted to wince. Yes, he thought, Jane's knowledge and intelligence might be valuable, but he was unlikely to get any help from her, not after…what he'd done.
Loki remembered the fear on her face as her mouth opened and closed soundlessly and his stomach twisted with shame that he tried to push away. She had provoked him, she should not have dared to speak to him like she had – but none of it felt right. He was making excuses and he knew it.
What do you expect of yourself? Loki thought bitterly. Is that not what you do, misbegotten creature that you are?
There was nothing for it now. That relationship was finished. He did not expect he would see Foster again.
Loki's manufactured irritation ebbed away, fading into tired melancholy. He stood up and paced jerkily over to the kitchen, splashing some of an already open bottle of wine into a glass and not bothering to try to push it away. He took a large swallow and stared at nothing in particular, wishing…he wasn't certain.
His thoughts drifted from Jane Foster to Thor, again. Wondering what he was doing now. If he ever thought of Loki with anything more than a curse.
He is nothing to you, Loki reminded himself savagely, and downed the rest of his glass, almost wishing it would have some effect on him.
Loki pulled his thoughts back to the matter at hand. Without the books in Asgard, identifying, let alone dealing, with whatever this threat was became a great deal harder. He wracked his brain, trying to remember anything useful about what lay outside the realms, but all he could think of were legends and vague allusions, nothing concrete. Without that…
He thought of Fury's question, and wondered suddenly if he ought to have taken him up on it, but pushed the thought aside. Teamwork was…not his strong suit, and he doubted any of Fury's other candidates would be able to offer any help with this.
(But if you fail…should there not be a guard who knows what is coming?)
Loki pushed that thought aside. He would just have to not fail.
Which left one option if he wanted to know more – going back between realms. His stomach twisted at the thought, remembering the way it had felt, and he reminded himself flatly that now was hardly the time to be a coward. As long as he prepared carefully and kept his guard up…he doubted it would kill him, and as long as he survived the rest was repairable.
The thought crossed his mind briefly that Natasha would doubtless not approve of what he was considering. Dr. Fisher would perhaps call it suicidal. It was necessary, he informed the echoes of them both. Surely that made a difference?
You should just tell them. Why are you keeping this a secret? Is it truly because you believe they cannot help or because you seek to prove something to yourself – or perhaps to Odin?
Loki's stomach turned. Odin had rejected him utterly, if he had ever cared at all. There was nothing he needed to prove to himself. It was simply a matter of practicality.
Not a desire to be seen as a hero, to bask in praise and glory and know that for once he had managed something good.
Loki refilled his glass of wine and fetched one of the books Barton had lent him, trying to empty all thought from his mind but those of Harry Potter and this Rowling woman's ludicrous but entertaining notions of how magic worked.
*.*
"I feel as though our last two sessions didn't go very well," Dr. Fisher said. "Today I wanted to ask what you think would help you."
Loki snorted. "I do not feel the need for help, Doctor. Or at least not the sort that you can give."
Dr. Fisher leaned forward. "What kind of help do you feel you need, then?" She asked. Loki snorted.
"Perhaps something to rid me of my boredom. I grow weary of sitting idly about." He raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps there is something you might help me with. Are you capable of urging them to lift my suspension prematurely?"
"No, I'm afraid not." She did sound apologetic, though of course that meant little. "What do you do outside of work, generally?"
Loki fidgeted. He felt restless, itchy, like there was something embedded under his skin. "I read. Go for walks. Other than that…" he shrugged. Dr. Fisher frowned.
"What about hobbies? Social activities?"
"I am not precisely the most personable individual, as you may have noticed," Loki said dryly. "I manage. I have a few individuals whose company I enjoy, and that is sufficient." Natasha's teaching me how to play chess, he almost added, but held it back. That was – private. Laid out, however, it suddenly sounded…sad. Empty. Loki shook himself a little. "Unless you wish to volunteer as an entertainer, however…?"
"No," Dr. Fisher said, smiling a little, "but you might think about picking up something to do with your free time. Something you like, that relaxes you. That can have a big impact on your mental well being."
Loki did not resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Ah, yes. Because you are so certain that my mental well being is precarious, no?"
"I didn't say that," Dr. Fisher said. "And I want you to recognize that you just put words in my mouth. It helps everybody, regardless of who they are, to have something to do that lets them unwind. That's science."
Loki let his lips curve in what he knew was a faintly condescending smile. "Of course. But you read too much into an idle remark. I feel perfectly fine." He met Dr. Fisher's skeptical gaze levelly.
"Luke," she said, mildly. "I don't want to push you-"
"Then don't," Loki cut in, smoothly.
Dr. Fisher's pleasant expression faded a little toward a frown. "Can I ask you a question? Do you think if you need help that makes you weak?" She asked. Loki's lips quirked.
"Isn't that exactly what it would make anyone? To be unable to cope with one's own thoughts seems the very definition of weakness."
"I don't think so at all." Dr. Fisher leaned forward, hands clasped in her lap. "I think asking for help when you need it is one of the strongest things anyone can do."
Loki arched his eyebrows. "So, conversely, I am weak for not asking for help when you believe I need it."
She frowned at him. "You're twisting my words and I think you know it. I'm just offering you my perspective." She was quiet for a moment, and then sighed. "Therapy can be a lot of things, Luke. It can be as simple as just…talking things through with someone who isn't involved in them. And I really would like you to think about the fact that it is okay to need help from others. You don't have to do everything on your own."
The laugh, harsh and a little strangled, burst half unwillingly from Loki's throat. "Oh?" He said, feeling his eyes widen, knowing he should remain silent or- "and who do you suggest I do it with? Who is there other than myself? I hardly expect that anyone else would be interested in helping with my sordid troubles – if I even wanted them to." The way Dr. Fisher was looking at him made Loki's fists clench. "Which I do not. Can you understand that?"
"Of course," Dr. Fisher said, her voice gentle. "I can understand feeling alone, and I can understand not wanting other people to see you when you're feeling vulnerable. But can I ask why you're so sure that no one would want to help you?"
Why would they, Loki thought, but he was able to keep from speaking it. He could feel himself almost quivering, and forced himself to hold still. "What purpose would it serve them?" he asked, instead. "Humans – people – are self-interested creatures." Barton and Natasha and Stark rescued you, a small voice at the back of his mind murmured. What did that serve them? He pushed the thought away.
"Okay," Dr. Fisher said slowly. "In…in your file, Luke, it says that you were captured as a result of pursuing Norman Osborn because you believed Agent Natasha Romanoff was at risk. Can you tell me why you did that?"
Loki blinked, adjusting to the apparent change in subject before he realized the direction of this questioning. "She had been helpful to me," he said, flatly. A small part of him turned over guiltily, murmuring that he was a liar.
"And that's all?" Dr. Fisher pressed. Loki pressed his lips together. "Do you think you're a particularly selfless person, Luke?"
"No," Loki said, resisting the urge to laugh again, knowing there would be something hysterical in it. "I know I am not."
"But your instinct, before your personal safety, was to do what you thought would help Agent Romanoff. Is that correct?"
Loki felt trapped, as though he'd been cornered. "It was the return of a favor, nothing more."
Fisher's eyes were intent on him. "Could other people, maybe, feel like they might want to return a favor for you?" Loki's chest felt tight, thinking of Roslyn, staying up day and night searching for him, Barton, who didn't even like him yet had seemed concerned for his well-being, Rogers, who had put himself in danger to keep Loki from harm when the Limbo beast attacked. "What is it you're afraid will happen if you reach out?" Dr. Fisher asked. Loki felt himself wind tight, and she added quickly, "you don't have to tell me, or even answer aloud. I just want you to think about it."
Loki's hands knotted together in his lap and he couldn't stay still. He stood up, unable to look at Dr. Fisher, and then he was pacing, words spilling from his lips. "You do not understand. I do not – have friends. I cannot. It isn't – they don't know me and I can't trust them." He wanted to snarl at her for making him speak like this. He wanted to snarl at himself for speaking at all.
"What do you mean," Dr. Fisher said slowly, "when you say that others don't know you?"
"I should think the meaning clear enough," Loki said. His voice was harsh, and he tried to control it, control himself.
"Can you try to explain it to me anyway?"
Loki's fists clenched and he felt a sudden urge to lash out, with magic or hands, he wasn't sure. He remembered having control of himself, once, but it felt like all he'd done recently was lose it. Perhaps all he'd done since landing on this forsaken realm. Perhaps all he'd done since Jotunheim-
I am a monstrosity. An aberration that even the frost giants could not accept. Cast out of two realms, twice I should have died yet here I am. Everything I am is wrong and sooner or later all of you will see it. He clamped his lips together, breathing shallowly through his nose, clinging to silence.
"Luke?" Dr. Fisher said, gentle and worried. Loki hated her.
"I don't deserve them," he said, finally, flatly. What did it matter, telling her that much? He could almost hear Dr. Fisher's brows furrow, as though she was concerned.
"Don't deserve who?" She asked. Loki scoffed.
"These…the people you offer so casually. Friends. That is what you want to know, isn't it? Why I will not, as you put it, reach out? I am not so lacking in pride that I will accept what I have not earned." He turned around, arranging his expression carefully, eyebrows raised. "Does that answer your question?"
Dr. Fisher looked at him for a long moment. "So, to you," she said, "friendship…support, that's something that has to be earned?"
"Isn't everything?" Loki did not bother to mask the bitterness in his voice.
"I don't know," she said. "I've never thought of it that way. But I want to focus on the first thing you said – that you don't deserve friends. Why do you think that?"
That cut too close to things he didn't want to say – and wanted to say, part of him hoping she would disagree (though what would it mean if she did, knowing nothing) and part of him hoping she would simply accept his judgment and give up. "I told you."
"You said that you hadn't 'earned' them. What is it you feel you should've done that would change that?"
I am not certain. Thor would know. He thought of Jane again, and wanted to laugh bitterly. Not be what I am, perhaps. "If I knew, perhaps I would have done it by now."
"I don't know that deserving something and earning it are the same thing," Dr. Fisher said slowly. "One of them suggests a state of being, and the other some kind of action. If someone doesn't deserve something, can they earn it?"
The urge to laugh bubbled up again, and this time he let it go, hating how it sounded, fractured and ugly. "That is the question, isn't it?"
He could not look at Dr. Fisher. "Luke," she began, and then stopped a moment before continuing. "Do you believe that you can earn these friends you think you don't deserve?"
Loki closed his eyes and felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards. He thought of Natasha, how easily she had called him friend, the way it had felt when she did. Thought of Asgard and years of trying to be what he was not and only belatedly learning that it had always been pointless. "No," he said, and it was almost a relief to admit.
"Luke," Dr. Fisher said, and then was quiet, for a moment. "I know it doesn't do any good for me to say that I don't agree with you. I want you to think about someone you respect and care about. You don't need to tell me anything about them, just…picture them in your mind."
Thor's face popped into Loki's head, unbidden. He tried to push it away, but then accepted it, because it hurt and that felt right. "And?"
"And imagine them telling you that they don't deserve you or your friendship."
Loki tried. Tried to picture Thor saying that – I don't deserve you, Loki. Even trying made him feel vaguely ill and he couldn't make himself do it. He shook his head. "I cannot. He would never…"
Brother, however I have wronged you, whatever I have done that has led you to do this, I am truly sorry.
Loki flinched. His breath felt short. Dr. Fisher was implacable. "How does it make you feel to imagine it, though?"
Loki clamped his lips together, refusing to answer. He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, feeling on the edge of fleeing. "He wouldn't say it. He would never believe it."
"Everyone has doubts about themselves sometimes." He heard Dr. Fisher stand up. "Now can you imagine telling that person that you agree with them? That they don't deserve you?"
Loki's stomach twisted. "It wouldn't be true."
"If you wouldn't say it to someone you care about, Luke," Dr. Fisher said, "why is it okay to say it to yourself?"
Loki felt like his shell was crumpling, closing in on him, stifling him. "It's not the same," he tried to protest, voice tight. "I'm not the same."
"What if you were?" Dr. Fisher asked, still so hatefully gentle. "What if I told you that you were just the same, that you're no worse than anyone else?"
Loki laughed, harshly. "You'd be wrong. You know nothing about me."
"Maybe not," she said, "but I know a few things about people. And if you were really that bad, I don't think you would have so much trouble thinking good things about yourself, or get so upset about the idea of listening to someone you care about denigrate themselves." Loki turned, on the tip of his tongue the urge to snap at her, to – something, but it faded away looking at her standing there, small and calm and unfazed by the venom of his thoughts. "I'm going to ask you to try an exercise, just for the next couple days. When you think something negative about yourself, I want you to imagine saying it to someone else – a friend, or maybe yourself as a child. And if it doesn't sound right saying it to them, remind yourself that maybe it doesn't sound right saying it to you, either."
Brother, however I have wronged you…
"You don't know what I've done," he said, and his voice sounded hollow.
"No, maybe not," she acknowledged. "But I know a little about what you're doing now. Maybe that matters more?"
Interlude (XXV)
After a week of careful observation of his followers, Loki decided it was time to find out for sure who they belonged to.
It was a pair of two mortals, a man and a woman. They seemed inclined to think they were being terribly subtle as Loki watched them observing a simulacrum of himself drinking at a bar. Dressed in unremarkable clothing and speaking in low voices, however, in this neighborhood they stood out almost garishly. Wearing the face of a woman he'd passed in the street five minutes before, Loki sipped at his drink and waited to see what they would do.
It seemed the answer was nothing, and Loki bored quickly. He rose, shedding his disguise, and wandered over with his hands in the pockets of his coat.
"A fine evening," he murmured, next to the leftmost mortal's shoulder, and she wheeled even as her partner looked toward the counter. Loki let the simulacrum stay.
"You're over," he started to say, and the woman made a small motion that Loki recognized easily enough as a reach for a weapon.
"Oh, come," Loki said, infusing his voice with a touch of power, "There's no need for that, is there?" He sat down. "If you have questions you really may as well ask me." He made his voice low, calm, and reasonable. The kind of voice anyone would be inclined to agree with.
They nearly jumped over each other to answer. "Not questions, sir, strictly reconnaissance," said the woman, just as her companion hastened to add, "You're a designated party of interest, sir."
Loki frowned, very slightly. "Designated by who?"
That question they seemed considerably less cheerful about answering. Glanced at each other. Loki waited. The lighter the touch, the more chance they would notice nothing odd later. Finally, the man said, seeming to struggle with the words, "Sorry, sir, but I'd rather not say."
"Individual or organization?"
"Organization," the man said, and then looked troubled at himself. These were not so easily bent; likely trained in some fashion. The woman looked uneasy as well, and seemed to be struggling to come to some decision. Likely she wanted to call for assistance and was finding it difficult to want to, despite ingrained habits telling her she should want to.
An organization, then. That told him little enough of what they might want from him, though he doubted it was anything he was interested in. "Thank you," he said, standing, "You have been most informative."
"Sir," said the woman, "If you would please wait-"
"Of course," said Loki easily. "I'll wait right here. Why don't you get another drink and we can talk?"
Once their backs were safely turned, he left the bar and headed back to the apartment he'd set himself up in.
The streets were quiet.
And now…now they knew he knew they were watching.
For a moment – if only a moment – he felt nearly like his old self again.