It was well into the night when Natasha returned. He stayed motionless and kept his eyes closed when she changed and slipped into the bed.

"I know you're not sleeping," she breathed into his ear as she settled down, wrapping the duvet around herself, then draping it over his shoulder, "but have it your way."

He turned, carefully, wary of the tube, and a smile adorned her face the moment he did. She reached up and swept an unruly strand of hair away, then the firm warmth of her fingers rested on his neck, right in the spot where his nervous pulse beat away its frantic rhythm.

"You can do it," she said, as if sensing his thoughts. "You convinced me, so the rest is just a formality." She tucked her head to his chest, her breath warming his skin even through the cloth of his shirt. His own hand wandered to her waist and he pulled her closer, submerging his face in her hair.

He could do it and he would.

It wasn't the commotion of the new arrivals that woke them up in the morning. It wasn't even Jarvis' voice. It was Natasha's ringtone.

"Hey, what's up?" she rasped into the microphone.

The "morning" part was exaggerated, too, the darkness of the night barely started to fade in the East. Four-thirty?

Loki couldn't quite make out the other end of the conversation, but he could discern it was Barton's voice, talking in a highly agitated tone. Natasha's eyes went wider and wider as Barton spoke, until there was no hint of sleepiness left in her features, just tense concentration.

She sprung up and started putting on her trousers, the phone trapped between her shoulder and her ear.

"Okay, yeah. Get the hell out of there. I'll send you the coordinates and warn Stark you're coming."

The call dropped and she cursed.

[What's going on?]

"I'm not sure," she said, typing the message. "Clint had no time to go into details, but it looks like the Barnes truth worked better than we expected, and Rogers tried taking the matter into his own hands and now they are on the run with the entirety of Hydra on their asses."

She finished putting her clothes on then eyed him critically. "Chop, chop, hop out. You get Stark, I get Banner. An emergency meeting in the living room, five minutes."

[Can't we ask Jarvis?]

"Yeah, good idea," she grumbled and rubbed her eyes. How could she keep forgetting about the assistant's existence, when the awareness of being watched all the time has been burning so keenly at the back of Loki's brain, ever since that first blunder, days ago? "Jarvis?"

"Miss Romanoff," the voice responded, right away. "I'm notifying Mr. Stark and Mr. Banner as we speak."

"Tell them…"

"To meet you in the living room in five minutes. Yes, I've allowed myself to relay your message already. May I be of further assistance?"

"No," she muttered. "I fucking hate it."

[I can tell.]

She chuckled and fell back to the bed, then nudged Loki's knee. "Four minutes."

Stark was already wide awake and waiting for them when they entered the living area. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before and didn't look like he slept at all. He had his computer opened in front of him and his face was stern and focused as his eyes glided over the screen. He only waved his hand dismissively when Natasha said her biddings.

Banner emerged out of his bedroom. "Is Clint all right?" was the first thing he asked.

"He didn't sound like he was hurt, but it's hard to tell," Natasha said. "Better prepare for any eventuality."

Banner sighed and nodded. He didn't look any happier with the turn of events than the rest of them.

"One more thing. There's someone else coming over with him and Rogers."

That got Stark to peel his eyes from his screen. "Do we know who?"

"No, Clint didn't say, but it's not Barnes, or he would warn us."

"Well, that's a relief," said Stark in a dark voice. "Any ETA?"

"No idea. They were leaving DC when Clint called me, so that should take like thirty minutes, tops, but he won't fly straight here if he doesn't have to."

"They still have the Quinjet?"

"Yes. Well, I'm not sure if it's the same one or if they stole another."

"Let me check… Yeah, Mommy's still up in the air and double yeah, they are taking a detour. If they keep the speed and the course, they'll be here in an hour or so."

"Uhm, guys…" Banner said, drawing their attention. He was looking up from his phone with a dismayed expression, his eyebrows drawn with worry. "I think we should turn on the TV."

"Which channel?" Natasha asked, reaching for the controller.

"I don't think it matters."

Banner was right. Most TV stations paused their regular programming to air the breaking news. Steven Rogers, also known as Capitan America, was now a fugitive from law and so were his known collaborators, the Avengers.

As the allotted hour slowly chipped away and neared its conclusion, Loki retreated back into their room, no longer able to fight the sinking feeling in his gut. None of the humans seemed to notice his egress, too preoccupied with sorting through new information that was flooding their screens.

It was for the best; he could enjoy the last moments of peace in solitude. He was always good at that.

He went out on to the porch and sat down on the weathered boards, watching the first rays of the sun brightening the sky, trying to burn the sight into his memory. There was no telling how long it would be before he would be allowed to see it again.

An inane notion to just get up and run, as fast and as far as he could, budded in his head, but he did his best to disregard it. He wouldn't be able to hide between the mortals, not without his magic, not with the metal stuck to his face. He had no means of leaving the planet and he needed humans and their medicine to stay alive. Hiding away from civilization would mean condemning himself to a slow expiry from starvation. He didn't want to go through that, not again.

But, most of all, he didn't want to leave Natasha. No matter what happened, she wanted him to be here, so he'd stay.

He breathed a lungful of the fresh, chilly air. The autumn was in the full blossom still, but the shortening of days was evident, and the colder times were just around the corner. Loki always enjoyed Midgardian winters – not as harsh as the everlasting, bitter cold of Jötunheimr, but rather a welcome change from Asgard's ceaseless summer. He allowed himself to look forward to those colder days before, imagined how the yard would look like covered with a layer of fresh snow… He felt like a fool for it now. Of course it couldn't last, there was no escaping the reality. He was still among foes. Stark and Banner might have found it in them to look past his corruption, put his actions on the curb of the suffering he endured at the hands of Thanos or just willing to grant him forgiveness because of their own faults. There was no hoping for the same from a self-righteous man like Steve Rogers. He would see the flaws in Natasha's excuses for Loki's deeds right away. Loki could have chosen death, no matter how slow or merciless, over taking others' lives, yet he did not. He submitted to the Mad Titan's command willingly, he accepted the scepter from his hands and carried out his master's wishes. There was no twisting this fact around, no matter how many second thoughts he might have along the way.

There was the sound of engines, growing and swelling. He couldn't see the approaching jet, the porch was facing the other direction, but the noise was self-evident. As the plane closed in it was getting harder and harder to stay in place, while his instincts screamed at him to hide.

He stayed, rooted in place. He wasn't going to act like a coward. Not again. Not even when there was nobody to see it. He would still know.

The plane landed and there was a commotion inside the house.

Loki's fingers curled into fists and he didn't move from the porch. They will fetch him when the time arrives. Or perhaps Captain America will come over himself, just to inform Loki of his fate, without giving him a chance to utter his vapid excuses first.

The sun travelled the sky in a slow march, counting down the hours of the day, but no one came, and Loki started to wonder whether they forgot about him with all that was happening. No matter, they'll remember, soon enough.

Around noon the sound of engines could be heard again, even if the pitch was a bit different. Loki reasoned it was Stark's lady friend with her mysterious companion. And, sure enough, the vehicle landed on the grass in front of the house, but enough to the side with the porch for Loki to witness the descent. He made sure to stay behind the cover of the patio furniture and observed.

The aircraft was smaller than the Quinjet and built differently, with two instead of four engines and the cabin just big enough to hold its two passengers. Lower distance machine then, Loki guessed, so they stopped somewhere on the way to change the modes of transportation.

A bulky man in a dark suit jumped out then helped a tall, handsome woman out. Virginia Potts, the internet informed him, the woman Stark trusted with leading his empire and, presumably, with his secrets. The same source also told him that, as weird as it sounded, the two were betrothed, but not married and it was but a union of mutual trust, not a legally binding wedlock. It looked like humans didn't put as much of an emphasis on the role of nuptials as Aesir did. They also didn't seem to separate the formal role of marriage and the extemporary connections based on the strivings of the heart that were rarely one and the same in Asgard, especially at the royal court, where political affairs were often settled – or started – on the grounds of a union between two houses.

The internet wasn't as informative about the man, who Jarvis identified as Hogan, but Loki was able to find out that he was the head of Stark's enterprise security, which was, Loki reckoned, something akin to a royal guard for the likes of Stark on Midgard. That definitely didn't herald anything pleasant for his fate.

Now, with everyone already in, it wouldn't be long before someone comes for him. It won't be Natasha, he knew, she wouldn't agree to play the charade against him. Will it be Stark with his crafty smiles? Banner with his uneasy words of comfort? Or will it be Stark's guard, fulfilling his role as the enforcer?

Will they believe him when he promises to go without a fight?

Loki rubbed his wrists idly. The injuries were gone, but the faint scars from his doomed attempt at escape into the welcoming arms of death remained. His flesh wasn't as prone to scar as a mortal one, but the wounds were too deep and took too long to heal for the marks to fade entirely, joining the myriad of other tokens of his failures that tarnished his body. He used to hide them with illusions, now he just resorted to pulling the sleeves of his sweater down.

More long minutes has passed before the door to the room finally opened. He laced his fingers in his lap and pressed his palms together to hide the shaking and stayed where he sat, unmoving as a rock.

"Loki?" said Natasha's voice, breathy and unsure and it felt like a blow. It could be anyone, but they forced her to come. "Are you in here?"

He didn't answer. Of course he was in here, where else was he supposed to be?

She stepped onto the porch and sat down next to him, then placed her hand on his knee. He closed his eyes and fought to not jerk away. It wasn't fair. They couldn't use this against him, not like that…

"Hey, something's wrong?" she asked and the worry in her tone sounded so genuine it hurt. I really wish it weren't' you.

[It's time, isn't it?] he said. He kept his gaze on the line of trees, unable to meet her eyes.

"Well, yes, I suppose. Everyone's here and… I know you don't like this. I don't like this either. But we can't go on alone. We need those people, and we need them to understand. And only you know the whole story. So, yeah. There will be questions and some of them you might find hard to answer. And I really don't want to ask you to do this, but it would help a lot if you tried."

He nodded and felt the metal move in his throat, a welcome distraction this time.

"Just remember. No matter how badly it goes, no matter what happens, I'm on your side."

He took in a breath and scrambled to his feet, then straightened out his clothes and brushed his hair away from his face. He should've made himself more presentable, he realized belatedly. It wouldn't change the outcome much, he couldn't do anything about the worst offense to his image, but it wouldn't hurt either. But he didn't think about it earlier and he ran out of time and now he had to appear before his jury with bedraggled hair and in mismatched, ill-fitting clothes. The Loki of old would rather not show up at all than present himself before other people like this, and this was just another testament to how far he has fallen.

[Okay. Let's go.]

The way into the living room felt four times longer than it usually was. He kept his eyes on the floor and tried to think of nothing but putting one foot in front of the other. At least the fetters were gone now, the humiliation he was facing would be even worse if he still wore them. If he thought about it earlier, putting on the boots Stark got for him would improve the situation, too, at least for his own peace of mind.

Everyone was already gathered in the common area and every set of eyes dashed to him the moment he entered. They sat in the semi-circle formed by the couch and armchairs, with one in the middle, the one he usually occupied, left open, presumably waiting for him. He stifled the sigh of relief. He won't be forced to stand the whole time, or – what would be even worse and in line with how the accused were treated in Asgard – kneel.

He took the seat and only then allowed himself to study the room. Virginia Potts was sitting next to Stark, with her hand in Stark's lap and with Hogan guarding her other side. Further down sat Banner, then there was a bit of open space – perhaps for Natasha – and then Clint. Captain Rogers and his companion were the last and Loki took a few heartbeats to assess the stranger. His skin had the deep ebony color that was considered one of the ultimate marks of beauty in Asgard – the heritage of the Dökkálfar blood and the power that came with it – and he had an open, honest face, now pulled into a tight frown.

Natasha took the empty place between Banner and Clint. Loki shifted and waited for the inquisition to start, but the room stayed so silent he could hear his own heartbeat.

[Are you going to ask questions, or I am here so you could all just stare at me?] he asked, and Clint snorted before Jarvis could provide the transcription.

"No, Loki," the Captain said, and his face was solemn and tense, "this is not an interrogation. You're here so we can hear your side of the story."

[Which part you want to know?]

"All of it."

Loki stared back at the man before him, trying to figure out what it is that he is truly asking of him.

Rogers flustered, cleared his throat and leaned forth where he sat before he spoke, in a calm, measured tone, like speaking to a child. "Tony told us the basics and even that is barely comprehensible. So, anything you can tell us, anything that will help us understand what happened, we will appreciate."

Loki's eyes dashed to Natasha and she smiled and gave him a small nod of encouragement.

He closed his eyes, imagining it's only him and Natasha in the room. Then he started talking.

He told them everything. Everything that mattered. He told him of his life in Asgard, about his shameful attempts to match the glorious, golden Thor, about the ill-fated coronation day and finding the truth behind the lie, about his crimes against his kin, about his fall. Then he spoke about the void, about the Mad Titan and the efforts of the Other, about his subsequent submission, about the attack on Earth and his halfhearted, fumbling attempts to control the damage, about the surrender and the flight and Ebony Maw's attack.

He laid it out in the simplest words he could find, sparing them the unnecessary details. They didn't need to know that sometimes he was left alone in the Asgardian cell for so long the loneliness started to feel like a physical burden and that he spoke to himself just to hear a voice. Or how empty the void truly was and how it felt to be left adrift in the unending darkness, unable to scream, unable to draw air, with every nerve frozen in the paroxysm of pain. They had no interest in knowing how it felt to have one's skin flayed alive or how oddly white his bones were when the Other tore open his flesh, just to mend it with his magic and repeat the process. They didn't need a vivid description of the slow process of one body's wasting away from the lack of sustenance or exactly how cold Hydra's cell could get.

For the whole time no one spoke to interject, or to ask a follow-up question, or offer a commentary, or even a joke which was the least Loki expected with both Natasha and Stark in the room.

He didn't dare to look up until he got to the escape and Stark and being freed from the clutches of his captors. He then turned to Stark, to officially thank him, because he realized he never did that before and was immediately taken aback.

There was no scorn or derision or mockery he would expect, on any of the faces. Rogers' mouth was pursed, Banner's eyes were wide with terror and Virginia Potts had half-dried streaks on her cheeks and her lips were quivering.

Clint cleared his throat. "Okay, since nobody is asking the one important question, I'm gonna have to do it. If it was the Tesseract the Titan wanted, why not order you to take it and hop back into the space portal? You had your hands on it basically the moment you arrived, why follow up with all the rest?"

Loki blinked. Indeed, he didn't mention it in his story, perhaps because of how obvious the answer seemed to him. [There was something else he wanted from Earth. Something that was too well protected for me to just grab and deliver. He wanted to use the distraction of the attack to send his children through the portal I've opened and retrieve it for him, while you were busy fighting me.]

"Uhm, do you know what that was?" Stark asked.

[No. I was never told that part of the plan. I didn't need to know it to retrieve the Tesseract and lie waste to your city. But he was insistent I have to bring the swarm in and his children were at the ready, so that's the only obvious explanation.]

"Any guesses?"

[Another powerful object, I'd assume. Perhaps another relic Odin, or one of his predecessors, left on Earth. The Mad Titan has a penchant for those, it seems.]

"He wants to collect the Infinity Stones," Natasha said in a hollow tone.

It all fell into place in an instant. The Infinity Stones! Of course! How could he not put that together? He had read the tales, he should have figured that out, just from the real name the cube gave him, if only he didn't shirk away from ever thinking about it. [You're most likely right,] he admitted. [Thanos has great ambitions and would stop nothing short from the most powerful objects in the entire universe. I had no idea that legend is known among the people of Earth though.]

"It's not," Stark said. "At least I have no idea what you two are talking about. How about you, Bruce?"

Banner shook his head and so did the others then they all looked to Natasha.

Loki's brows furrowed.

"The light ghost told me, back on the island," she said, her eyes firmly on Loki. No one else would know what she was referring to; he skimmed over that part of their journey quickly. "I didn't tell you right away because it didn't seem important compared to all the rest and then… Time passed and I just forgot."

"I'm officially lost," the Captain's friend said. "The angry Space Raisin I could stomach, but now we are going with ghosts?" He turned to Rogers. "Is this some sort of elaborate joke that's totally flying over my head that everyone's in on but me?"

"I wish," Hogan said and Loki almost jumped at the sound of his voice. The man truly had the manner of an exquisitely trained, elite guard, able to blend into his surroundings and make everyone forget about his existence until he needed to make his presence known.

"They called themselves… ascensions, I think," Natasha explained. "The immaterial impressions of living beings that existed in the past."

Virginia Potts turned to Stark and whispered something into his ear.

Stark answered with a weak hum of affirmation. "I suppose, our brains are just a series of signals, if you found a way to emulate it with something…"

"They said they can see the future," Natasha carried on, disregarding the disruption. "Kind of. Not in the clairvoyant way, but all the possible outcomes. Or something. They lived on the planet we were stranded on, in the past. I sought them to help us back home and… Oh, before I forget." She put up her palm and cast the torchlight spell. There was a gasp from Virginia Potts and an impressed "damn" from the Captain's friend. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway. They told me that Thanos was looking for the stones and that I'm going to play some important role in stopping that from happening. That's basically the full story. You can all stop gaping at me."

Natasha never got the opportunity to tell him about the encounter beyond the rudimentary. It was the first time he heard about the Infinity Stones in that context, but the rest was also new. The prophecy and her role in it… They needed to talk about it, if Loki made it through, somehow.

[Is there anything else you want to know? Or are you ready to cast your judgment?]

"Nah, no judgments today, sorry buddy," Stark said flippantly. "That's not what we are here for. And I'm pretty sure I'm not alone when I say that we got more info than we bargained for. So, what about wrapping this up? Who wants some coffee?"

Loki blinked as people murmured and slowly drifted away from the living room. Virginia Potts lingered behind, then got up and came to him.

"I believe we haven't been officially introduced," she said, extending her hand. Her eyes were still red but she made a good effort to keep her voice steady. She extruded the aura of professionalism but the emotions on her face made it crack around the edges. "I'm Virginia, but everyone calls me Pepper. Well, Tony calls me that, which means all his friends do too."

He hesitantly shook her hand then politely bowed his head, not sure what the proper answer to the introduction should be. They all knew his name anyway.

"Uhm, it's good to finally meet you… properly. There's little else Tony would speak about these days," she said and gave him a thin but honest-looking smile. "Now if you excuse me…"

He gave her a small nod and she scuttled away towards the kitchen corner, where all the rest gathered. Loki sat there a moment, unsure what to do and even more confused with what exactly just happened, then he got up and went back to their bedroom.

No one tried to stop him.

It was already late afternoon before someone barged in and put Loki's musings on a pause.

He already managed to wrap his brain around the concept of not being under persecution for now, as weird as it seemed at first and as much as every shuffle in the hallway brought the idea of one of the humans changing their mind and coming in to… He couldn't say what exactly anymore. The fear of retaliation has amassed into a swarming clump of tight-knitted worry in his stomach, without much coherence or logic.

"I'm kinda disappointed that all the grand speeches were just a distraction," Stark initiated and sat on the stone steps leading down to the lawn, next to Loki. "That was one of the best villain banters I've heard to this day. And I've heard a lot."

Loki shrugged. [I spoke what needed to be spoken to create a threat you wouldn't disregard. But I took inspiration from Odin's speeches of old, so if you ever want to hear the real version, you can try picking up a battle with Asgard.]

"Are you trying to rile me to declare war on an alien empire, led by a literal god?"

[Perhaps,] Loki said with an amused huff.

They sat without either of them talking for a while.

[You can't take the gag off, can you?]

Stark's shoulders slumped and he scratched his chin. "No. Unless you count the oddball idea of killing you, ripping that wretched piece of metal off and then magicking you back to life with Romanoff's arcane powers as a solution."

[You think that it could work?]

Stark's eyes grew uncharacteristically wide and shocked. "What?! That was just an offhand, stupid comment, not a valid suggestion!"

[I know. You think that it could work?] Loki repeated, drawing broader gestures for emphasis.

Stark stared at him for a long moment. "I don't know. But you said this kind of magic breaks apart when the host dies and I've already confirmed the device is using your own energy to strengthen itself and its bond to your body. With that gone we might be able to just cut it away… But that's not the point. Would you really consider actually dying to get it off?"

[Yes,] Loki said, before Stark even finished his sentence.

"Okay, I get it," he said and rubbed his eyelids. "I need to think this through. We can talk about this later. We would have to talk Banner into it, he'd need to find, uhm, a safe way, I guess. And Romanoff, obviously, and I can't imagine that going down smoothly."

[I can deal with that.]

Stark nodded and let out a sigh. "I'm going to get some rest. It looks like I'm going to need it."