Romanoff looked idly at the shot glass in her hand and then across at Barton, their game of cards forgotten on the table before them. Not that they had really expected to play...it had been more of a half-hearted attempt to try and take their minds off of the absence of sobbing from the adjacent room. At first the sudden noise had scared them, but then it comforted them because it meant that the boy was starting to come to terms with what happened. Not necessarily in the best way, but he was. However, their initial comfort was dying down as the silence stretched on and on from the bedroom.

"Do you think he's okay?" Clint asked, half heartedly placing a card down on the table, not even really noticing that it was the wrong color for its placement. Nat shrugged and continued playing off the illegal card.

"I don't know. We'll ask Hill when she - " Just as she spoke, the door creaked open softly to reveal Maria standing there, hand on the shoulder of a tearstained, almost vacant Phil. Seeing the archer's intake of breath to ask a question, the agent shook her head and guided the boy out of his room and down the hall towards them. As the two of them passed by, Nat reached out and gently squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of foreboding in her chest as he didn't react. There was no reciprocating pressure, nothing. He didn't even falter in his step. He just kind of...brushed by.

"Phil - " she began, rising to follow them, but stopped at the glare Hill threw her over her shoulder. Slowly sitting back down, the two agents watched as Phil opened the door to Loki's room and walked in, hand still in Maria's.

"It's bugging you, isn't it?" a voice asked, and they turned around to see Tony standing there, looking saddened.

"What is?"

"Don't try to play that card with me, Rushman. It's bugging you that she just suddenly showed up and is taking care of Phil right now. I mean, who does she think she is, butting in here like that?!"

"I really don't mind. She - "

"You don't - Romanoff, we've been caring for him this whole time, not her - "

"We called her in, Tony," Clint commented in a voice that said to leave it be. "She knows what she's doing with Phil, don't worry about it."

"But I mean, she can't just come in here and - "

"Tony, drop it," Romanoff warned, but the billionaire wouldn't let it go.

" - take care of him when we should be doing that. I mean, come on, we've been taking care of him the most here and - "

"Tony, Maria Hill plays the cello," Clint said through clenched teeth, and Tony gaped, voice lost. "Yeah, that's what I meant by drop it."

"What? Wait, what about Portland?!"

"As Fury's right hand man, do you really think Coulson always tells the truth?" a hard voice asked and they turned around to see Hill standing in the doorway. "He's okay," she whispered, noting their questioning glances. "He's beat up about something but other than that, he's okay."

"So the two of you are - "

"Tony, if you want to not get thrown out the window again, drop it!" Clint cried, exasperated, and the scientist threw his hands up in defeat.

"Fine! Whatever."

"What I do want to know though is what Phil meant by he killed Loki."

000000

Phil stood before the bed, a small, scared figure in the gloom. The blinds were drawn, bathing the room in a dull half-light that cast an almost sickly pallor over the already pale skin of the body before him. A single tear drifted down the boy's cheek and he sniffed, angrily wiping it away with the back of his hand. He felt sick, standing here. He felt sick looking at the cold, waxy features of his friend, knowing that he was dead. Gone.

And it was all his fault.

But something inside the hysterical child began to assert itself, something older, calming. It was a voice that was familiar, and yet felt so foreign.

Calm down, little one. Nothing like this is ever as bad as it seems. There is a bright side to every scenario, now just look for one here. Phil watched the corpse before him, trying in vain to find any silver lining to the situation. Do you know what it is? It's that he's not suffering anymore. He's not afraid of how he's going to die. He's at peace. Phil sighed and took several deep breaths, letting that voice sooth his frayed and harried nerves.

"I'm sorry, Loki," he whispered in a voice that was hoarse from his crying and sobbing for so long without a break. "I'm so sorry." He slowly sank to his knees and rested his upper body on the bed, reaching out to hold Loki's hands in his own. "I'm so, so sorry. This was all my fault...I'm sorry." He fought to keep his breathing under control and pushed himself up to his feet before laying down on the bed beside his friend. "If I had just been more careful..." His heart ached as he thought over everything that he had been through, everything Loki had been through. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that this man should be the one to pay the price. Phil lifted his head slightly from the god's shoulder to look at the peaceful face.

"You sang for me, Loki," he said, not bothering to hide the tears. "I'll sing for you, too." He took a deep breath to steady himself and nestled back down on the cold shoulder beneath his head. "Sing me to sleep. Sing me to sleep. I'm tired an' I want to go to bed. Sing me to sleep. Sing me to sleep. And then leave me alone." His voice wavered as he said that last line. "Don't try to wake me in the morning cause I will be gone. Don't feel bad for me, I - I want you to know..." His voice choked up and stopped, unable to continue anymore. He closed his eyes and sighed, slowly feeling himself drifting off to sleep. He was tired. He was drained. But for this one moment, he felt at least a little happy. He was with Loki again. And it just felt normal...

It was night when Phil's eyes opened, and the world about him was silent and comforting. He was in his bed once more, wrapped up in his blankets. Vaguely he remembered someone picking him up and carrying him to his room, and when he thought about it a little harder, he recollected that it had been Steve. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and his gaze idly drifted over to his desk, where it stuck, mind trying to process what was sitting there.

A dove. An ice dove.

That hadn't been there before.

...

Had it?

He swung out of bed and ran over to it, but grew sad once more as he realized it had just been the one Loki had given him all those long days and weeks ago. He turned to go back to his bed but soon caught sight of something else glinting in the moonlight on his dresser - on the dresser. It was the violin.

Now...had that been there? He couldn't remember anymore. The voice that had spoken to him before told him that yes it had, but the child in him was grasping at straws, hoping against all possibility that Loki had come back, that he was leaving hints for him.

He's gone, Phil. Listen to me. He's gone and he's not coming back. I know you want him back. I want him back. But you need to realize that Loki's passed on. He's not coming back. He pushed his older self out of his head and contemplated what to do with it. He reached out and picked it up, looking at the hateful object in his hands. His eyes smarted with something that burned as he recalled the laughter, the smiles, and the fun that had come with this simple instrument. The dancing, the music...the good times. Something angry grew in his chest and he ran from his room, sprinting out onto the landing strip that extended from the tower and hurled it over the edge, tears streaking his face.

"WHY'D YOU GO!?" he screamed to the night air, but the sleeping city didn't answer and the boy sat down on the edge of the building, and began crying into his arms. "Why did you go?" he asked again through sniffles and coughs. "I don't want you to be gone."

Deep in the cell of my heart I will feel so glad to go. Sing me to sleep sing me to sleep.

The words came back to him and he tried to shut them out. I'm not glad that you went; don't go.

I don't want to wake up on my own anymore. Sing to me, sing to me...I don't want to wake up on my own anymore.

I don't care. I wake up on my own now, so why don't you come back?

Don't feel bad for me. I want you to know deep in the cell of my heart I really want to go.

But I don't want you to go. Loki come home. Come home Loki, I miss you.

"Come home," the child pleaded with the cold air. A cold blast of air swept over the small figure and he closed his eyes, waiting for the hand to close on his shoulder. Waiting for the scene to play out like a story book, for Loki to return when Phil had called for him. But life wasn't like the story books, and the agent knew it.

Nothing happened, and he dejectedly stood up and walked back to his room. He pulled the covers up over his head and cried silently. "Please come home Loki. I want you home."

Come home.

"Now is the final chance. Go."

Come home.

It was time to go. He couldn't be around this place anymore, not after everything that happened. Phil looked down at the transcript of how to operate the machinery for the shrink-tank-gone-wrong. He wasn't going to wait any longer. He was going to deal with this problem on his own without the assistance of anyone in this tower.

They just didn't understand him anymore.

No one did. The only one who had was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

Carefully, he left his room and approached the doors of everyone else. He cautiously cracked open Nat's bedroom door and smiled slightly as he saw her and Clint tangled up under a pile of blankets like two kittens, just sleeping. He gave a barely audible sigh and memorized their faces for what was to come. He wanted to be able to call up their images when he needed them. Without the merest click, he closed the door and stepped down the hall to open Bruce's door. Unsurprisingly, the man was crashed over his desk, piles of scientific papers strewn about in utter and complete disarray. The boy stepped forward and picked up the doctor's glasses from where they were precariously positioned on the floor under the adult's foot and placed them on the desk, reaching out and turning off teh desk lamp.

"Goodbye, Bruce," he said softly in the dark and left, going to Steve's room. Here his heart grew heavy. He fought the urge to shake the sleeping super soldier awake, to tell him what was going on, and ask for help and comfort. But he stopped himself just as he was about to step into the room. Now was not the time. Now he just needed to go and get this over with. Say the goodbyes and get this done. But he had one last bit of advice.

"You're not alone, Steve. You're never alone." As though the man had heard the boy, he shifted under the blankets and rolled over to face the door. His eyes opened momentarily but he didn't see anything in his half-asleep state and quickly passed out once more. Even if he had been completely awake, Steve wouldn't have seen anything. Phil was already gone, heading to the room he knew to be Tony and Pepper's. The two of them were peacefully lying side by side, facing each other, and Coulson gave a slight smirk before mentally apologizing to the billionaire. He was effectively going to be betraying the man there with what he was about to do, but he was done.

He was done with the burden of not being his own self. He was tired of not being able to do anything about the situations he found himself in. He was tired of being useless. He was tired of being a kid. He was done.

He was walking through the kitchen on his way to the lab, Steve's sweats under his arm, when a strange noise came.

Tap.

Phil frowned.

Tap. Tap! Taptaptaptaptap - TAP!

He shook his head at the noise and continued on. Might be something knocking around in the air vents. His hand descended upon the door handle.

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAP! There was a pause and then... BANG.

Phil froze, heart racing. That noise was coming from over by the glass that he had just come in through moments earlier. And now there was something out there. Phil moved back into the kitchen, keeping his back to the glass, poured himself a mug of milk, and made as though he was opening the microwave. In reality, he was angling the door so that the living room window was reflected in the glass of the appliance. The boy froze again and the ceramic mug slowly slipped out of his hand and crashed to the floor, shattering. He found it hard to breath as he took in the silhouette.

And then, barely daring to make the slightest movement, he turned and couldn't hold it in any longer.

He screamed.

But it wasn't a scream of terror, it was a scream of hysterical joy, of an almost terrible sadness. The Tower slowly started rattling with noise of the avengers waking up and a tearful smile broke out over the boy's face as he ran around the island, leaped over the back of the couch and scrambled over the coffee table. Screw going around things, it only slowed people down. And he certainly wasn't in the mood to go slowly.

"LOKI!" he screamed, voice cracking, that one word coming out garbled by tears, as he threw open the door and threw himself into the waiting arms.

Loki closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, holding the child close to him though he really needn't have. He could have not been supporting the small figure clinging to him and Phil would still have been attached to his upper body like a leech.

"LOKI!" the boy wailed again, crying tears of hysteria into his shoulder and the god of Mischief and Lies gently rocked the child in his arms.

"I'm here, Phil. I'm here," he reassured him and rested his head on the shoulder of the small one in his arms. "I'm back. I'm home."

"You heard me?" a small voice sobbed, and Loki nodded.

"I heard you, Phil. I heard you. And I'm not going anywhere, I promise." He looked up at the group of stunned, teary eyed, and disbelieving Avengers standing before him. No doubt the two of them presented an emotionally trying scene. "I promise."

"You promise?" came the broken little voice from somewhere against his chest again and Loki nodded, holding him even closer.

"Philip J. Coulson, I promise I will never leave you like that again."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Loki!" Phil sobbed and made fists in the fabric of Loki's tattered tunic. Then, everything came tumbling out. "Fourtimesitwasfourtimes,youtoldmeandIdidn'tgetit, I'msorry!Ishouldhavebeenmorecareful,Ishouldhave-"

"Phil, what is this?" Loki asked pulling back and gently setting the boy back on his feet, kneeling so that he was resting on his heels. The boy sobbed and looked down at the ground, and the adult rested a hand on both of the child's shoulders. "Say it again, slower."

"Four times..." he managed to whisper before breaking down again. "I killed you, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I was an idiot, I'm sorry - " Loki cut him off by pulling him into a hug that the child was all too eager to return. "I'm sorry!" But before the adult could continue, the boy bulldozed over him and let out the rest. And it made everyone else cringe and feel as though a thousand tons of depression and pain had been dumped on them.

"It made me scared! When you died, it made me scared. I didn't want to see you die, I didn't want to see someone close to me die again!" he said in a panicked rush. "The monsters came back that night because you weren't there to protect me. I wanted to play the piano with you again, I wanted to talk to you again! I didn't want to - I said you were sleeping, that's it, you were sleeping, just sleeping! I didn't want to believe that you were gone, I didn't want to. I didn't want to because then I'd know that I let you down. It was my fault, I couldn't do anything! I was small, I wasn't big again! I wasn't big again! And I had to hide my anger at my friends, because it was their fault I wasn't and - " Stark flinched and Banner looked down, a sense of pain creeping into his heart. "And I had to not get mad at Pepper for leaving me alone, and I had to not get mad at Clint and Tasha for not coming to help you in time, but - but mostly I was mad at me because I could do so much more! I could do so much more, and I couldn't! I could have saved you, but I wasn't able to do anything and I had to watch you die and know that it may as well have been me who put you there and - and - "

The hate was out. The anger, the pain, the suffering that the boy had kept locked away inside of him, hidden behind the locked doors of his room and the silent gestures of sign language...it was all out in the open.

"Oh, Phil..." Loki whispered and pulled the child into a hug. "This was not your fault. You can't change the Fates...You can't change them. This wasn't your fault, or their fault...this was my fault. And I'm sorry I ever got you involved. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

In the tearful silence that followed, Tony tried to step back to lean on the counter in order to compose himself. And stepped onto something rather sharp.

"F - OOOWWWWWWW!" he screamed, falling flat on his back as he immediately grabbed his foot, swearing in every language he knew as he stared at the ceramic shard sticking out of his foot. Admittedly, it was more of a sliver, but to his over-dramatic mind, it was of course a shard and that meant he was going to die. "COULSON!"

A soft, hiccuping giggle was all that he received but it was a noise that lightened the now rather chaotic mood.

Well, this had been an eventful night, Hill thought as she watched from the shadows. Loki is back from the dead, Phil had an emotional break down, and Stark now has a mug sticking out of his foot...I had better report back to Fury.

And without a backwards glance, she headed for the elevator and left the tower.

So it was she never noticed two things. The first was Tony flipping her off from the floor and the second was Phil waving slightly in goodbye and offering one of his rare soft smiles. And through his watery tears, something shined in his eyes that said he was very thankful that she had been there for him earlier. And maybe that he was sad to see her go without saying anything.

But soon he was back to hiding his face in Loki's shoulder as he held his dear friend close, trying hard not to completely break down.

And failing miserably.