Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

Chapter 29: Disguises

A/N: Still exhausted, even though I've done nothing but sleep since I got home yesterday.


"I feel like shit, you know?" he said, and ignored the soft brush of her hair against his cheek as Pepper leaned against his shoulder. "Not just because of all this..." Tony gestured at the barrier, rapped on it with a hand.

Yeah, this was all a pain in the ass, he thought. Being stuck in a container like a fish out of water, out of its environment, floating about on some unknown aircraft through the darkness of space, far and above the planet, away from home. It was borderline terrifying, really. But the thing that kept on scaring him, he realized, was the same damn thing that had had Pepper crying a river into his shirt not long before. The thought, the very real possibility, that their son might have to grow up seeing his parents in photographs, on television documentaries rather than up close and personal. That Bradley might not have the chance to hear his father say that he was important, that he was loved. Just like Tony.

Maybe, because of his own lack of parental affection as a boy, he'd grown up selfish, content in doing whatever the hell he felt like just because he could. For years now, he, the great Tony Stark, had been more than happy to spit in the face of the government, of those who would dare to tell him what he could and couldn't do; what was and what was not appropriate for a man his age. Truth be told, he'd been happy going on like that for a while, thinking that he had nothing and no one to lose up until his little three month field trip into the desert. Watching innocent men fight and die for nothing, realizing that, at any given moment, he could lose his company, his friends, the woman he had never admitted to loving. That couldn't happen to his boy, he thought. The generations had to continue growing, becoming better until, in the end, all the world could do was try to cite the mistakes of the past as ammunition.

He was going to get out of here, Tony decided, and he was going to watch his son grow up, guide him until he was every bit as perfect as Pepper herself. That teetering, drooling little mass of peach fuzz and mindless love had one hell of a brain in that soft head of his, and Tony would be damned if he sat on his ass and all but handed his son over to be raised by someone else.

His head began spinning, the wheels and gears cranking as he cast his eyes about the room. There wasn't even a sign of a seam in the glass, of a door. Probably sealed by alien technology or mischievous Asgardian magic, he imagined, and grit his teeth in frustration. If he had anything at all, a cell phone, even one of the identification bracelets from the Mark VII suit, he could probably get word out to Jarvis or even to Rhodey, have one of them program the suit and have the thing fly itself through the ship so they could get the hell out of here.

"Where the hell is Banner?"

"Separate containment unit," Natasha replied, tapping her foot. "Otherwise, we'd be out of here by now."

Tony groaned loudly, clapped a hand over his mouth once he realized that Pepper had fallen asleep. "Well, shit," he huffed. "What about Sparky? Any sign of him?"

The assassin shook her head slowly. "Not since we were at the tower," she sighed, the scowl on her face stating that the woman was absolutely livid. "My guess is that our little friend is busy taking care of him..."

What an idiot he was for not having thought of that himself. This had all started out as a feud between brothers, after all, and it only made sense to say that Loki wouldn't lay them all to rest until his grudge against Thor had been satisfied. If that was even possible. The guy had carried on quite the temper tantrum over the past few years.

"Everybody has skeletons in their closet," the archer quipped and shrugged, earning a venomous look from Natasha. "It's normal..."

"That isn't what we're talking about, Clint."

Tony leaned back as if to slip through the glass, not wanting to be caught up in the middle of this ex-lover's quarrel gone wrong.

"Everything somehow leads back to him," Clint replied, equally as aggravated. "Haven't you noticed? I mean, for weeks I haven't heard you have a conversation that doesn't somehow involve him! You're hung up on him, and, for whatever reason, you just can't let go!"

"He betrayed us, and not just once! Or hadn't you noticed that we're stuck in a goddamn cell, waiting for someone, or something, to come and collect us?!"

"That's your fault!" he yelled. "You were the one who decided to play the bleeding heart, try to and be best friends with a guy whose only objective was, and still is, sending us all to hell!"

Tony blinked several times, looked back and forth between one and the other, unsure as to whether or not it would be wise to open his mouth. Pepper stirred then, breathed deeply and sat upright, her hand spread out over his own. The hawk and the spider turned to stare, both looking incredibly guilty over the fact that they'd allowed their tempers to get the better of them and that they had awakened an already distressed mother. The archer muttered an apology, and Natasha came to sit beside the pair of them, patting Pepper on the shoulder with a sad gleam in her eye.

She peered around the room, sighing when she realized that they were still trapped, and leaned on Tony again, shuddering as she tried to keep herself from crying all over again.

He wanted to say something meaningful, something that would stop her from worrying, wondering, dreading the things that very well could happen. But the only thing he could do, Tony acknowledged, was to sit there beside her and rock her back and forth.

# - # - # - #

"Let you go?" Loki scoffed. "Do you think me an idiot?"

Thor frowned, watched the gentle, rolling clouds fill in along the deep blue shades of the still dark sky. Steadily, their colors changed, the silver gleam of their outlines fading to a heavy gray, their curves lighting up white as thunder began to roar and lightning sent streaks throughout the city. How tired he was of this, of playing this game, wondering when and where his brother would regain his senses, return to being the man he had been only a few years before. He wanted to know what had happened to Jane, to Darcy, to the rest of his friends. Were they safe? Were they alive? Where had he taken them? How far away were they? How much more time did they have before the vengeful hand of this Titan came down upon them?

This should never have been about the rest of them, Thor thought, and bit his lip. It had only ever been meant to encompass the two of them, to keep himself and Loki caught up within this dangerous dance until such a time as one of them fell or gave in.

He surged forward, sent Loki stumbling to the floor to smack his head against the tile as he seethed, could not hear the cries of the baby as they grew steadily louder. It had taken everything for him to be patient, to hold out vain hope that his brother would see the error of his ways and right his wrongs, return home to happiness and prosperity. But now, the thunderer thought, peering out over the vastness of the city as it began to crumble amid a storm of flame, there was no time for kindness, for charity. Those days were long gone now, and all that was left was to correct the mistakes of the past, to ensure that they would not be made again.

"If I let you go," the trickster shouted, scrambling backwards on the floor, "I know what will come of it! If he does not kill me, then you will! And if not you, then Odin! And let me tell you, Thor," he hissed, raising a hand, "I will not go back to hiding in the dark. I will not be left to rot in a cell!"

"Rather than telling me what you will not have," Thor bellowed, "you had best use that tongue of yours to come up with a solution for this mess that you have made! I have had my fill of your excuses, brother! I have spent far too long waiting for you to do what is right, and this is not the time for another of your foolish games!" They stared at one another until Loki turned to look away. "Now, I shall only ask once more. Let me go."

The shackles fell to the floor then, dissipating as though they had been naught but dust. Thor rubbed his wrists, his brow drawn into a frown as Loki brushed past him, vanishing before he had chance to turn fully around. He cursed himself, wished that he had ignored the mild irritation of his skin for but a moment longer, wished that he had taken the chance to stop the trickster where he had stood. Thor started then, jumped back a foot as Loki reappeared on the sofa, holding the now smiling baby in his arms.

The child cooed, stretched out his tiny arms in an attempt to grasp the ends of Loki's hair.

"Foolish little thing," he said, holding Bradley away from himself as though he were a dog riddled with disease. "If only you had the capabilities to understand just what it is that goes on around you. To realize that, come the end, your miserable race will be but dust in the wind, writ and preserved only within history's weave."

"You focus so intently on one's blood and race," Thor said with disdain, "as though that alone determines the whole of their worth. But you have not arrived at this place you so detest, this pit of misery and woe, because you are Asgardian, and you do not suffer the weight of your wrongdoings because you are Jotunn. Your choices, brother, have determined your fate. Not the Tree, nor the visions it grants. These we both know you can change."

The baby fell silent as Loki, still not looking at him, snorted and whispered, "I desire no change."

"You do not lie as well as you once did, brother."

"In that case, allow me to speak but truth to you. The only change that I desire is separation from you. I desire the death of this world that you hold so dear. Are you not at all content with that which you have been granted?! A throne, the name of a king, the adoration of the whole of Asgard as well as the people of this pathetic realm?! Why is it that you must demand such mindless worship from me as well?!"

The child wailed, writhing in his arms, and Thor could only stare. He wondered if the baby was a reflection of that which Loki would never allow himself to show.

"I do not–"

"You do!" the trickster snapped. "Time and again, I continue to reject you, your gestures, your empty words. And yet, each time, you return, you entreat! You, the golden Son of Odin, continually parade yourself before me in a vain attempt to regain my regard! You have deluded yourself into thinking that you only aid me with your persistence, but I regard your presence as naught but the burn of the suns of Muspelheim! Were you to truly hold me in any esteem, you would stand down, respect my wishes, and leave me be! But you can't... You think yourself a savior of mankind, some glorified hero... And I am not so weak as to buy into your delusions, grant you the satisfaction of having pulled me from the gates of oblivion. I am not of Asgard, Thor; nor am I of Jotunheim. I am only, in the eternal wisdom of your father, the enemy. You cannot expect me to change."

"I do not," Thor lied. He had only ever wanted Loki to return home, to once again find peace and happiness within the glimmer of their great city. To recognize his mistakes and be sincere in his sorrow, to again be the same as he had once been. That same clever and mischievous younger brother that he had grown up with. That which, now, lived only within a dream. Thor himself had been rather foolish to carry it on; to refuse to wake up and realize that the past in which he wanted to live was long since gone and ushered away. "I ask only that you help me once more. To correct your mistakes... Our mistakes."

Loki growled, shook his head. "It matters not what you say," he murmured. "I will not regret but a moment of all this... I... I'm not sorry... I'm not. I never will be..."

His feet carried him forward until the baby, still sniffling, was close enough to have bent backwards, hands closing around the loose ends of Thor's golden hair. His own arms moved then, hands settling themselves squarely about Loki's shoulders, reeling him in.

"I'm not sorry..." he choked. "I... I'm not... I'm not..."

"I know," Thor whispered, and smiled gently. "I know..."