They cornered him in the library, when he skulked out of his room to explore. It might have been his fault, he picked a book from the shelf just to page it through and then got too absorbed to notice the passage of time, despite the peculiarity of the plot.

They all sat down on the floor, like he was sitting, despite no shortage of armchairs and fluffy pouffes in the room and Loki just knew something wasn't right.

"Okay, Midnight Express, this is an intervention," Stark said and clapped his hands on his thighs. "Natasha brought to my attention that you might have some… misconceptions about what we are all trying to do here."

[Is that what I've heard last night?]

Natasha snorted. Stark glowered at her. "What? It was funny. The deal was for you to not turn this into a joke, which you've already ruined with that idiotic nickname. You're running out of pop culture references or what?"

Stark let out an annoyed sigh, then locked his eyes on Loki, not without effort. Stark's gaze usually just skittled away from Loki's face as quickly as possible. Loki couldn't blame him; the gag was a horrid device and he himself avoided his own reflection in the mirror just as fervently. "What happened to you was not justice. It wasn't law, just a bunch of sadistic fucks with illusions of grandeur."

[Yes, Stark, I understood that the first time Natasha told me.]

"I know, I'm saying that because I have a point and I want to make it very clear." Stark paused and cleared his throat. "We are not acting on Fury's orders, or anyone else's. You're not a prisoner here. Or a hostage. You're here so we could help you."

Loki nodded.

He's heard that before. Not only from Stark, from Odin as well. There were always conditions. Rules. Caveats. Things he could be punished for, sometimes without even knowing the reason. Stark called him free, yet made his help conditional to Loki's obedience, so, as long as Loki was at his mercy, the human could withdraw any of his graces. The way it was phrased truly mattered little. He did appreciate the sentiment though. It meant his leash might be a bit longer than he initially suspected.

Natasha scooted over and put her hand on his knee. "Stark's telling the truth. You're free, Loki."

[Am I? Can I walk out and stroll down the street without being captured and returned to prison? Can I return to Asgard without a noose around my neck? Can I use my powers? Can I talk?] He unfurled and stretched out his legs, for all to see. [I can't even get out of bed without tripping on a chain. I have to depend on you to feed me through a tube. I'm marked with Stark's name, like a property. You call that freedom?]

Natasha's eyes were wide and shiny, and he immediately regretted his outburst. She took her hand away. He reached to keep onto it but wasn't quick enough. She sighed in disappointment and looked away.

"You're right," said Stark glumly after a moment of silence. "Just because you got out of a dark place doesn't mean it's all fine and that all is fixed. I refused to see it like that because that would mean we failed."

Loki blinked.

"There's still a long way to go, but I want to make it right, this time. So, let's forget about that stupid deal we made for a moment, okay?"

Loki narrowed his eyes. [What do you mean?]

"I have a better one, hopefully. We are trying to take down the organization that held you prisoner, because they are a menace to our world, you want to avoid being returned to their care and – I'll allow myself to assume – take your revenge. We want to defend the Earth from the guy who forced you to attack us, you want to leave it behind and clear your name. Our goals align. So, let's work together. Not exchanging favors, not negotiating terms, but as allies. As a team."

Loki stared. Where was the catch? Could Stark really mean it? [I have nothing to offer as an ally,] he said, cautiously.

"You've already offered enough," said Natasha. "You sabotaged the Mad Titan's attack and you saved me, more times than I can count. You taught me magic. You gave Stark enough new info to last him for the next couple of years of new projects. Let us pay you back."

"Besides," said Stark with a smirk, "I'll get all that shit off you in no time and you can be the team's wizard."

Loki glared at him.

"Warlock? Cleric? Sorcerer? Because you can't honestly mean a bard."

He looked to Natasha for salvation.

"These are character classes from some stupid game, don't worry about it."

Stark scoffed. "Stupid game? Shut up, Rogue!"

"Oh, that? Then who are you in this metaphor?"

"Paladin, obviously."

"In your dreams!"

"Hey, Loki?" Banner called out to him. "You want to help me in the lab?"

[Yes, please,] Loki said and accepted Banner's hand, then followed him down to the workshop, the sounds of an argument chasing after him.

When Loki returned to his room later in the afternoon, there was a choice of new clothes waiting for him. Not a single garment had Stark's name on it.

"Hey," Natasha said, coming into the room.

He was sitting on the floor by the bed. The window was open, letting in the chilly evening air. He took a shower and put on some of the new clothes. There was a choice of shirts there, some trousers too, with zippers or straps on the sides, so he was happy to ditch the cloth finally. Then he put on a sweater, knitted of some type of wool that looked scratchy but was soft under his fingers. Not because he was cold, but because he could, and the material felt nice to touch and the sleeves were long enough to cover the still sore marks on his wrists.

He put down the notebook with the half-finished sketch and waved at her. She came over and sat on the bed.

"I have to go in a couple of hours."

He nodded.

"Are you going to be fine alone with Stark and Banner?"

[Yes.]

She chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair. Or at least tried to. It was too tangled, and he still didn't find anything to comb it. Perhaps he could ask Jarvis…

"I'll be right back," she said and sprung up.

She came back a while later, carrying a hairbrush and a white bottle with a swirly pattern on it. And scissors. "Here's something I wanted to do for a loooong time."

Remonstration welled inside him. Even his captors never shaved his hair. They threatened to do that often, but never did. Perhaps because there would be nothing left to resemble the old Loki – the one who attacked Midgard, forced mortals to kneel and made grand speeches about superiority and the illusion of freedom – and it would make it harder to punish him for that man's sins. He squashed the protest before it spilled out though. It was probably for the best. His face was already as unpresentable as it could get, even without the rat's nest on his head.

She started with the bottle though, squeezing creamy liquid onto her palm then rubbing it into his hair. The smell was pleasant, but he couldn't truly place it. [What is it?] he asked.

"Hair conditioner."

[What does it do?]

"They don't have hair conditioners in Asgard?"

[Not that I know of.]

"Oh boy, you've been missing out!"

It didn't answer his question, but it didn't matter. It was calming, to just to sit there, with her hands and the brush smoothing his hair, strand by strand. He closed his eyes and allowed the sensation to carry him, make him feel… warm.

Wanted.

His head drooped, so she gently touched his jaw, nudging it back up. He turned to her.

There were tears streaking down her face, but a smile still danced on her lips.

[What's wrong?]

"Nothing," she whispered. "Everything is exactly how it's supposed to be."

He nodded, wrapped his arms around her knees and snuggled into her thighs. Her hands ran through his hair still, even though there were no more tangles to unravel.

They stayed like this, for a long while.

"I'm done," she said. There was no more tremble in her voice.

[You're not going to cut my hair?]

"What? Of course not!"

His eyes dashed to the scissors lying abandoned on the bed.

She breathed out a small laugh. "Those are for you. I mean, if you agree. To cut my hair, that is."

[Why?]

"I liked how it turned out the last time. I've been waiting for you to do it."

[Okay. Go…]

"Put my head in the water. Yeah, I know," she laughed. She took off her clothes, grabbed a towel and, in a couple of heartbeats, he heard the shower running.

"Tadaaa!" Stark exclaimed and presented Loki with… an object.

Loki crooked his head and studied the human, trying to judge if he was supposed to know what it was or not, but the boastful smirk didn't provide him with a definitive answer. The item was a hollow half-circle, tapering towards the edges, like a headband, of one half of a collar and about as big, made of brushed metal, with a red, blinking light close to one of the edges.

"It's a brainwave scrambler. Trademark to Tony Stark two-k-thirteen."

It didn't clarify the issue in the slightest. [Care to explain, or do you expect me to guess?]

"It goes on like this," Stark put it on his own neck, "and its purpose is to intercept the signals the spell sends to your brain and scramble it."

Loki squinted his eyes. [Scramble how?]

"Change the wavelength, mostly. By just a few millimeters, but it should be enough for your brain to not interpret it as intended."

[Does it… work?]

"It should. I tried on a wave emitter and it worked just fine, but we don't know if the spell is not rigged against that in some way, do we?"

[Do you want me to test it?]

"No! God, why do you even ask? Just… Put it on and we will see if it works if you trigger the spell by mistake or something, I suppose. Sadly, it can't do anything about the physical changes you've told me about, so that you'll still have to deal with…"

[It's fine.] Loki said and took the device from Stark's hands, then put it on his neck, just for it to slip off almost immediately. [Couldn't you make it go all the way around?]

"Would you really appreciate me making you a collar to go with everything else?"

Loki huffed out a laugh. [Probably not.]

In the end, Stark added two magnets to clip the device to the metal of the gag and, as Loki was placing it around his neck, he realized that – while he hardly went a single day without activating the spell before – it didn't happen even once since the escape. So – instead of following the initial plan of going back to his room and slicing open his palm to see if it works or not – he decided to follow Stark's advice and just wait and see.

He spent the rest of the day in the study. It took him way too long to find something interesting to read. The disarray and lack of organization of the library irked him more than he was willing to admit; the books didn't seem to follow any sort of order in how they were placed on the shelves.

He started with rearranging the tomes on just one shelf and then, before he noticed, he was halfway through a complete makeover.

"Loki," Jarvis spoke, "would you be so kind to join Mr. Stark in the living room?"

He nodded, gave the last, longing look to the books sorted into neat piles he organized by subject and date of publication, then turned to leave. The summon to the main area was a new one, Stark has only ever called him down to the workshop, and Loki was too curious of what that could mean to pass on the occasion.

Bruce made a choking sound and rushed to hide his half-eaten sandwich as Loki entered the common area and Loki had to fight hard to not roll his eyes. Between the proper formula he was being given, the various liquids Banner concocted for him and the fact that wouldn't be able to taste anything anyway the thought of food almost didn't bother him. Almost.

"Jarvis told me you've been wrecking my study for the last six hours. You seem unable to refrain from messing with my stuff after all," Stark said, but there was no reproach in his voice and Loki assumed it was meant as a jest, even if he could clearly hear the subtext in Stark's words.

[It was so disorganized already that even setting an explosive to go off inside the room would improve the matter,] Loki pointed out. [Did you call me just to rebuke me for touching your books?]

"No, I don't really care, you can do whatever you please with them. Or with anything here. Well, almost anything, but I'm going to trust your judgment in that regard."

Loki blinked, puzzled.

"Anyway," Stark continued, unaware or unwilling to acknowledge Loki's reaction, "I've been running simulations for the last two days straight and I think I figured out how to open the shackles without having to melt the metal down with you still wearing it."

Loki's heart swerved in his ribcage.

"The alloy kept most of the properties of vibranium and there's very little we can do to cut it, especially with such a small margin of error. But that also means that it has similar energy retaining attributes and it's susceptible to become brittle at certain stages of resonance. If we get the latch part to resonate at just the right frequency, it should be possible to make it crack, without even touching it directly. It shouldn't even set off whatever the magic does, if firing a highly concentrated ray of photons didn't do it, ultrasounds shouldn't either. Well, at least in theory…"

Not everything Stark just let out of his mouth made perfect sense to Loki, but he understood enough to get a general idea. Even if it doesn't work and it does activate the spell, they would have a chance to vet Stark's previous invention. [Okay, let's try it.]

"That was the good news. The bad news is… I can't do it here. The method requires a high range, high precision wave generator, and it's not something people keep in their summer houses. Not even me. And building one, especially in a way that wouldn't make the postmen suspicious, would take months."

[I understand,] Loki said, trying to keep the disappointment from showing up in his face. To have that hope dangled in front of his eyes and see it snuffed out immediately was harsh, but he realized it wasn't Stark's intention and he added a placating, [I'm sure you'll think of something else, given time.]

"I haven't finished yet. I can't do it here, but I happen to have one of those in my tower. So, I called you in to say we're going on a road trip."

[You want me to leave here and fly to New York?]

"No. We can't fly. Romanoff took the Quinjet and I'm almost certain all my private planes and choppers are being traced after…" Stark paused and scratched his bearded chin. "So, we're not flying. We're driving."

Loki narrowed his eyes. [You think it's safe?]

"Should be. The car Bruce used is registered to Pepper's dead aunt maiden's name, I don't know how deep they would have to dig to connect that to me."

That wasn't what Loki meant, but it didn't matter. Stark seemed resolute to do it and Loki wanted to try, very much. [Tomorrow?]

"Tonight. It will be safer to drive by night. Less traffic, smaller chance of someone recognizing us."

Loki's eyes dashed to Banner.

"I'll prepare a supply of the formula for you so you can administer it yourself," the doctor said. "And you probably noticed I've been weaning you off the painkillers for a while anyway."

Loki did not notice that. [Okay, let's go tonight.]

"Packing" was a bizarre concept. Not only because he now had possessions like a proper person again, but also because he never had to do it before. When he traveled as a part of the royal entourage the palace servants took care of all required supplies, and when he was on his own, he could always use his magic to conjure anything he needed, as long as he remembered where he left it. He usually did.

It was still something to do other than sit and look out of the window, so he got on with that, stashing some of the clothes, the notebook and the hairbrush into the small suitcase Banner was kind enough to borrow him. He swept the room and noticed the communication device Natasha brought him he left on the bedside table.

Natasha didn't get a chance to explain the works, but, with some help from Jarvis, Loki managed to turn it on and connect it to the network. The explanations about the 'internet' Jarvis provided were not entirely clear and the very idea seemed quite baffling, yet inherently fascinating at the same time and not one many other civilizations shared.

There were multiple ways of long-range communications available to someone as powerful as the old Loki was, be it via magic, or the Æsir technology, that still carried magic at the core. But it was something reserved for important people, for the people with agendas and plans and positions to hold. The common folk would be sending letters or messengers, or just simply walking over. Asgard's capitol was grand, but not extensive, one could set out at the break of dawn on one end and arrive at the other before the first bell rang on the citadel. And reaching the edge of the world was a matter of two days at most.

Perhaps that was the reason why mortal technology did not discriminate between the rich and the poor – on Midgard that classification mattered a lot more than the status of one's birth, according both to his own observations and Natasha's words – the distances made it a necessity.

Or perhaps it was just in humanity's nature. They barely learned to walk, yet they built their cities high to the skies and aimed their eyes at the stars, toying with concepts their sparse understanding of reality couldn't fully comprehend. There was foolish naivete in those pursuits, but also wanderlust and unhindered ambition. Loki never thought about mortals in those terms before, but understood it well now, after seeing the wide-eyed fascination in Natasha's reactions and pure thirst for knowledge behind each of Stark's questions. And – even with his grasp on the rules of the universe limited by his civilization's level – Stark could still come on top of some the Æsir Loki knew with the scope of competence, all while being a lot less conceited about it.

He stared at the phone for a while, then stashed it into his pocket, not exactly sure why. Most humans carried it that way, so it must be the proper etiquette.

There was a knock at the door. Loki stood there, unable to respond, waiting for the visitant to realize their mistake and just come in, but the door stayed closed, so he let out a sigh and came over to answer.

"Ready to go?" Stark asked.

[Yes.]

"Great, I'll get the car ready." He turned to leave then stopped and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "We will have to stop to refuel. Grab something to…" Stark's eyes fell on Loki's face and darted away.

[I already did.]

Stark nodded. "If you don't want to do this, we can figure something else out, you know."

[Why wouldn't I?]

"I don't know… It must be hard, going to the place where the whole crapshoot started?"

The thought didn't even occur to Loki. It didn't feel real, like it happened to someone else, not to him. [It's fine.]

Stark nodded again. "Let's go then."

Loki grabbed his suitcase, took the last survey of the room and went with Stark.

Banner's car was an old Volvo wagon and there was something amusing about the idea of driving Loki around in a car that was made in the region that gave birth to the whole Norse mythology thing.

There was no interior camera in the car, nor was it hooked to Tony's network like the rest of his cars, so he just placed his glasses on the dashboard with the camera aimed at Loki, so Jarvis could still provide translations. Loki raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask for the reason, so he must've gathered it on his own. He didn't speak for a long time though, other than to offer a vivid rebuttal to Tony's suggestion he should fasten his seatbelt. Tony didn't argue, just let the god bear the insistent beeping for the next couple of minutes, until he yielded and fastened the belt with an annoyed huff.

"If you're not going to entertain your chauffeur with a conversation you can at least put some music on," Tony said, then pointed at the dashboard, where the radio was located.

Loki studied the panel for a couple of seconds. It was always fascinating to watch the god figure out unfamiliar things, be it the phone Romanoff gave him, the thermostat in his room or the equipment in Tony's workshop. Not asking for directions, he would rather methodically observe and experiment, until he cracked the secret.

Just like now. He tried out a few buttons until he found the right one then turned the frequency knob till he landed on a station. His brows furrowed. [How does it work?]

Tony explained, about the waves and transmitters and radio stations. He abandoned oversimplifying the ideas for Loki's convenience a few minutes into their first conversation. Even if Loki didn't recognize the term, there would be some analogy Tony could use to describe it, right around the corner.

[Neat,] Loki judged, then changed the stations, until he ran out of range. [Is it supposed to be entertainment?]

Tony snorted. "Technically? Yes. Now it's mostly commercials trying to sell you stuff you don't need and the same couple of songs over and over. You can try the glovebox, Bruce ought to have some decent music in there."

Loki went through the stash of cassettes, until he picked one and studied the cover in the faint light of the setting sun.

"Oh, that's a great choice! Put it on, I got a feeling you're going to like this one."

He let Loki figure out where to put the tape, which took just a couple of seconds, then they drove on into the deepening darkness, while "Starman" by David Bowie played from the speakers.

They stopped at a gas station two hours later. Tony wasn't looking forward to it, knowing he would have to ask Loki to cover his face and stay hidden, so it came as a relief when the god grabbed a scarf, wrapped it around his head and pulled on his hood, completely unprompted.

Tony paid in cash. The clerk eyed him weirdly for a couple of seconds, looked out at the car by the distributor, shook his head and handed him the change. Tony bit his tongue before he told the kid to keep it. He stashed the coins and a couple of crumpled bills in his pocket and left.

He stopped a couple of miles outside of town, on a deserted parking in the woods.

[Why are we stopping again?]

"I want to stretch my legs for a moment. I didn't want to stay at the station any longer than I needed to," Tony said, grabbed his glasses and stepped out of the car. A few seconds passed and he heard the passenger door open.

Loki's chain rattled as he moved. It didn't get any easier to look at the shackles – or the muzzle, especially after learning what the cursed piece of metal actually did to Loki – and even hearing the rattle right now sent a shiver down Tony's spine. And Tony was glad it did. It wasn't normal and pretending it was would only make it worse. It would be hard to not marvel at Loki's composure though and Tony did his best to keep a straight face, no matter how much the sight made his stomach churn.

Just a few hours more, he wanted to tell himself – and Loki – but not only he wasn't absolutely certain it would work, he also knew that – even if it did – it wasn't anywhere close to fully solving the problem. He still had no idea what to do with the gag. SHIELD recorded partial signatures when they triggered the spell and Tony scoured the records, and the longer he analyzed them, the bleaker his conclusion got: there was no energy conversion going on that he could block. The spell drew the chemical energy straight from Loki's cells, like a parasite sucking the life from its host. And there was the only way to cut off that source – kill him.

Loki stood next to him, his face barely visible in the moonlight and Tony wondered how it all looked from inside of the god's head. He seemed to keep it under the lid most of the time, but Bruce still had three pages filled with notes about the symptoms of PTSD and clinical depression he observed. He had one for Natasha too. Perhaps for Tony as well.

Loki turned to him and moved to speak. Tony already caught the few most common signs, but now it was too dark to see. The camera had a broader spectral range though and soon he heard Jarvis' translation.

[Can I drive?]

"Uhm, have you ever driven a car before?"

[No.]

"Do you know where to go?"

[No.]

"Can you read the road signs?"

[No.]

"Not that I oppose giving aliens driving lessons on a principle, but it's nine pm, we are kinda in a hurry and I really don't want to end up in a ditch."

[I watched you drive. It doesn't look that hard and you can tell me which way to go and what the signs mean. Besides, the few I figured on my own you didn't follow anyway.]

Was Loki just giving him shit for driving over the speed limit?

"Okay," he said and returned to the car and opened the driver's door. "Show me what you've learned."

[This is what you steer with,] Loki showed at the steering wheel.

"That was easy."

[This shows the speed you're going with and this the engine cycles per unit of time. The white area is the safe range, I'd assume.]

"Mhm."

[This adds fuel to the engine, making you speed up, this is a brake, this disconnects that rod there from the engine so you can swap between the modes.]

"Gears, but yes."

[This indicates which direction you go on an intersection with that blinking lights outside. I'm not sure what this does though.]

"Windshield wipers. Get in."

The first few minutes were rough, but then it went surprisingly smoothly, and Tony stopped worrying about his own life for the most part. Another half an hour and Loki started waving his hand at his explanations of road signs and yielding rules. Then he ignored Tony's instruction and picked his own way on an intersection, according to the guide sign and Tony congratulated himself on a great job he did as an instructor, with only a little dose of sarcasm.

He dozed off somewhere around Worcester and when he woke up to Loki shaking his arm, they were at the gate leading to the Tower's garage. Loki apparently figured out Google Maps in the meantime.

"Turn around and go for the Western gate. It leads to the private garage," Tony rasped and rubbed his eyes, then pulled himself up just in time to see Loki merge back into the traffic. It was a tight fit and the cab behind them honked. Tony unrolled his window and showed the driver a middle finger.