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 34: The Seasons
A/N: Well, this is the final chapter of "Like Pulling Teeth," and I would like to thank all of you for your kind support. As soon as there is a bit more clarity concerning the plots of Thor 2: The Dark World and perhaps the sequel to The Avengers, I will write an expansion to this story. At present, I have an alternate events story for Thor in the works, entitled "The Devil Of Asgard." I hope that those of you who enjoyed this will also give that a look as well. I expect to have the first chapter up tomorrow.
Once again, I hope everyone had a marvelous holiday season, and that you all have the very best of success and joy come the New Year.
The child, whose name they had learned was Daniel, had become rather taken with Natasha following the encounter with the giants, seeming to have decided for the moment that it was safest to stay as far as he could from Loki and cling to the woman's leg. Clearly, the assassin didn't appear too unhappy with such a turn of events, and looked very proud of the boy for determining who among their motley crew was dangerous. The child's little arms were wrapped around her neck as Tony dropped out of the sky with the Casket, offering it to Thor and making mention of the fact that he'd gone and hidden it among the construction equipment that surrounded Stark Tower. Loki, of course, rolled his eyes at the statement, wondering how in the hell he hadn't thought that the man would take it straight there.
Overhead, the sky appeared calm, gentle white flakes dropping out of the clouds and giving Daniel reason to hop out of Natasha's arms and roll around in a ridiculous attempt to make snow angels.
"I didn't kidnap him," Loki snapped, slapping Thor's hand away. "I am insulted that you would even consider such a thing. What would I have to do with a human child, anyway?"
Thor seemed to consider this, a hand moving up to stroke his chin as he furrowed his brow. After a moment of deliberation he nodded, silently acknowledging the point that he should have recognized right off the bat. Sadly, Thor didn't think more than a few steps ahead. One of his many irritating traits. He looked to Loki and his eyes widened, a knowing smile breaking out across his broad face.
"What?!"
"You saved him, didn't you?"
Loki made a face as Thor laughed, and shoved him. "Oh, shut up."
His eyes widened as the boy trotted over to him, the assassin following at his heels in a manner that suddenly made him nervous. Women were so damned nosy. Daniel grabbed hold of Loki's sleeve and, hesitantly, the god dropped to his knees.
"They found Mommy!" he proclaimed with a wide grin. Loki only nodded. "She's coming back for me!"
The trickster scowled at that, but Daniel was utterly oblivious, throwing his tiny arms around the god's neck in a manner that made everyone turn and stare. Natasha's jaw dropped and Loki was positively appalled. Thor, naturally, smiled. The god grimaced, raising his hands as if to remove the boy, but pulled back at the last second, as though he were about to touch something filled to the brim with terrible disease. The boy stepped back, still smiling, and made an eager face.
"Would ya do that thing again?" Loki stared. "The magic thing you did on the train?"
The god stared unblinking at the child for a moment, and found himself sitting on the subway again, the wet newspaper in his hands. His brother's photo stared up at him, and the boy's hand slapped the page, shouting the thunder god's name with a wide smile on his small, round face. Loki hadn't liked that at all, and, so as to divert attention from Thor, had allowed the boy to see his Jotunn coloring. Loki hadn't once thought that he'd see the child again, and so the trick hadn't been for more than a laugh, a means with which to make the child forget all about the being what had overshadowed him. But now, with the boy hanging on him and begging to see it again, and what with the rest of them watching, Loki felt sick.
The boy settled quietly into his lap and leaned on his arm, his tiny hands clinging to Loki's wrist as he sighed, wide eyes eventually closing as his body went limp with sleep. The god stiffened, staring at the child before turning to look at Thor.
It was surprising to Loki, to see this tiny little creature settled so comfortably in his arms, as if the god's lap were the safest place in the Nine Realms. The child surely had no idea that he was one of the beasts that had tried to kill them both, and, somehow, the idea brought him a bit of peace. Staring at the boy's still face, the trickster had an epiphany, suddenly finding himself crawling across the floor of his mother's bedchamber, scrambling to the side of her gown, tiny hands reaching out as she swept him up and into her arms, cradling him against her breast with a smile upon her face. It was there, in the solace of her embrace, that Loki had always felt at ease, even when the world was crumbling around him. Perhaps that was why he'd deigned to save such a pitiful little creature. The boy had reminded him of himself as a child.
Natasha laughed. "He likes you."
A car horn went off and Loki turned his head, still holding the sleeping boy in his arms. A woman trudged through the snow as quickly as she could, her face red and eyes wet as she looked at him. There wasn't so much as a warning as the woman approached, grabbing Loki and pulling him against her shoulder.
"You saved him," she whispered. The god said nothing, feeling incredibly awkward as the seconds passed. The boy's mother took him from the trickster's arms, pressing him against her chest with a force that startled him from sleep, causing his eyes to open and stare up into her face.
"Mommy..."
She quickly thanked him, leaving the god to sit in the snow with an increasingly confused look on his face.
"What," he said, looking slowly to Natasha, "was that?"
The assassin stared with a smile on her face, shaking her head. "That was hilarious."
Shaking it off, the god got to his feet, brushing the snow off his clothes, breathing deeply as his Asgardian wear vanished, replaced by mortal dressings as he snorted.
"Loki!" Thor grabbed him by the back of the coat, yanking him backwards through the snow. The prince spun him around, hands holding tight to Loki's shoulders as their eyes met, the thunder god giving him a solid shake. "What are you doing?"
The God of Mischief sneered, giving his brother a disdainful look that heavily implied he was a bloody idiot. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied coolly. "I'm leaving. I'm done."
Loki had never meant anything he'd said to his brother before, had never intended to return with Thor to Asgard. He hadn't even meant to go back and see his mother. There was nothing for him in Asgard, no reason for him to return save to face Odin's preaching and Frigga's disappointment. He'd never belonged there in the first place, didn't belong on Jotunheim, and couldn't stay on Midgard. Which made this decision of his all the more difficult. If he couldn't go home and he couldn't remain here, where in the Nine Realms would he go? Loki scowled as Thor shook him again, his head snapping forward and teeth nearly taking off the tip of his tongue.
He began shouting, howling at Loki for being difficult, refusing to take responsibility and so on. It all made him smile. Thor had never been able to persuade him to do anything. Loki had always possessed his own agenda, his own reasons for doing things, though they were often unknown to his brother. But, naturally, the one thing Thor wouldn't call him was what he was: A liar.
Thor bowed his head, one hand at the back of Loki's as he held tight. All this damned sentimentality, and it would get him nowhere.
"You don't have to leave, Brother. You could..."
Thor grew silent as Loki pulled away, eyes narrowing. To stay with his brother, with his friends would be to again follow at Thor's heels like a dog. He thought of Odin, of Frigga, of all the times they could have told him and didn't. For far too long had he been dragged along, following the path that they'd laid out for him, prompted him to follow. He'd been raised as a prince, expected to behave as such and hold all the good graces that came with royalty, even when the world threatened to crumble beneath his feet. Even were Odin to let pass his sleights, allow him to return as naught but the prodigal son, Loki couldn't subject himself to that torment again; pretend to be something he wasn't.
Silvertongue shook his head, stepped away from Thor and stared at the ground.
"Do you really think that, because you beg, I'll stay?"
Thor had always pestered him, always cried and begged him to come along, to play his games, to join him in the hunt. What he'd never understood was that Loki had never once conceded to his desires; had always gone along with the plan because it was what he wanted, because he'd hoped that, were he to follow him long enough, Thor would come to acknowledge him as an equal. But he'd always been little more than an extra wheel, a lackey. If only Thor had realized sooner the things that he knew now.
His brother watched with pleading eyes, a knowing gleam in the sea of blue as he acknowledged that, this time, Loki wouldn't be giving in. So far as the trickster was concerned, they'd been together far too long.
A sigh slipped through his nose as Thor raised a hand, making a face and tugging Loki to him. Silvertongue had never seen the point in such a gesture, in handling others and forcing embrace upon them. But he stood quietly, waited for the sentiment to die out, knowing it would be far easier than trying to escape his brother's iron grip.
When Thor let go, he frowned, biting his tongue and swallowing. "You are going back to Asgard?"
Thor nodded.
Loki fidgeted, kicking up snow. "Would you tell Mother that I'm..."
He flinched, a hand stretched out and in his face. The thunder god smiled. "I know," he said. "I will. You need say no more, Brother."
If there was one regret Loki held, it was that he hadn't told her himself; hadn't given her the one thing she'd never asked for. He only hoped she'd forgive him for it.
The Warriors Three and the Lady Sif stood behind him as he turned, Volstagg looking rather mournful, if not hungry, while the others held themselves in check. He passed them by, stopping beside the warrior woman and offering her a smile. She frowned.
"Try not to miss me," he laughed, fingers straying to her cheek. "We can't have you soiling your bedding with tears, now can we?"
Sif gave him a shove. "Be silent."
"Oh, I've heard that before, Lady Sif. We both know that, no matter how many times you say it, a charmer's tongue is never stilled."
It didn't matter now that she still hated him, that she had always loved Thor, had enjoyed nothing more than making him cry as a child. It was unlikely that they'd be seeing one another again.
For the most part, he ignored the Avengers, knowing full and well that they weren't particularly happy with the way things had turned out, with the fact that Thor was just letting him go. They wanted him in chains, kept in a cage like some lab animal, tormented and made to pay for his crimes against their precious humanity. He'd seen it in their eyes, that they wanted to break him, rub in his face their belief that mortals could best even the God of Mischief. Loki, however, had simply dismissed it as little more than childish fantasies. No mortal could force him to his knees.
The assassin stepped in his path, glowering at him with a ferocity that spoke volumes. He suspected that, more than any of them, she held the biggest grudge.
"Oh, you're not still upset about that, are you?" he chided, watching Central Park play over in her head.
Natasha looked away for a moment before raising a hand and striking him across the face, her lips curving up in a solid smile.
"What on earth would make you think I'm still upset?" she replied without a hitch.
Loki rolled his eyes up in thought. "I've lost count now," he said. "I can't quite recall if that's five or six..."
Natasha grabbed him then, scowling much like she had when she'd dragged him out of the music store, slammed him into the side of that disgusting dumpster. "I would hope that you at least remember the promise I made to you."
"How could I forget, Agent Romanoff?" Loki's tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, and he grinned slyly. "You have sworn, and on your very life no less, that you will kill me, whatever manner of creature I may be."
She flinched, his hand curling around her wrist, prying the knife from her fingers. "Shit..."
"Does the lady expect an apology?"
The god stepped away, satisfied by her obvious rage and the hateful expression that Barton had sent his way as he fingered his bow. He said not one word more, turning on his heel and starting off through the snow, suddenly preoccupied with a way to make footprints appear in front of himself without having to walk backwards. The gentle tension of the bowstring thrummed past Loki's ear, and he bent over just as the arrow went whizzing past, not bothering to look back and rub it in.
The head of Thor's hammer hit the concrete, his boots crunching the snow behind Loki as he stood. The trickster could hear the nervous beating of his brother's heart in his breath as he shouted.
"You will come back!" It was not a question. "Loki! Tell me you will come home!"
Cool breath filled his lungs, his nearly colorless eyes sent skyward as the snow kicked up around him. The two of them had always circled one another, like the cycles of the seasons, of the sun and the moon, of life and death. One rising where the other fell, each struggling for dominance in the worlds. Such had been the nature of their relationship from the beginning, and as such it would remain. The God of Mischief couldn't quite say that he knew they'd be separate as of yet.
"We'll see," he said to himself. "But who can say?"