"Something's on your mind," Natasha said.

It was late into the night when she returned, and Loki had to fight himself to not ask her what they were talking about. She was anxious but not angry, so Stark didn't tell her about the plan. The rest should be of no concern to Loki. If something important was decided about his fate she would tell him.

He yearned to tell her, to share that small spark of hope with her, but it wasn't the right moment. It was barely a plan at all and – if Loki blundered his approach – she would refuse, and that would be the end of it. And Stark said it himself, they needed her magic, and if she said no…

[I'm just… overwhelmed.] It might not be the complete truth, but it wasn't a lie, either.

She laughed, flopped down onto the bed, and pulled him down. "I would be surprised if you weren't." Her fingers traced the line of Loki's neck, down to his shoulder, then rested on his forearm. "All is going to work out. You will see."

He closed his eyes, humming noncommittally.

"And they say I'm the pessimist here," she said.

His old self would be furious that he couldn't just order her to assist in Stark's plan. And perhaps even the new, weak and broken Loki was angry too, but the claws of that anger were dull, filed down with the knowledge of where the sentiment came from.

She was stubborn, perhaps just as stubborn as Loki himself. Maybe even more, at times. And she truly cared. Not in a way that Thor or Frigg sometimes claimed to concern themselves with Loki's fate; the regard that always faltered and broke away under Odin's scornful glare, without a miss. No, Loki just knew that if Natasha were there, she would be the one voice to stand up for him, even to the All-Father, when everyone in Asgard turned their eyes away.

He couldn't name the feeling that awareness brought forth. It wasn't like anything he knew before, warm and welcoming and earnest. He buried his head in her arms, selfishly craving more of it.

He gathered enough courage to wander off their room at the break of dawn. Sleep wouldn't claim him back after he woke up from a nightmare and lying there staring at the ceiling seemed unproductive.

He could've gone to take a shower or just simply sit outside on the porch, yet he still aimed his steps to the common area. He wasn't sure what pushed him forth, there was nothing that needed to be done, no excuse he could hide behind – not even going to the study, now that he was granted the use of Stark's computer and could access any piece of information he wanted at a whim of his fingertips. He was just curious, perhaps, and everyone was still asleep.

Well, not everyone, apparently.

He made maybe three steps through the living room before the person who was on the couch – Loki was not aware of the sleeping arrangements until now, but it seemed obvious in hindsight, the house wasn't big enough for so many people – stirred and sat up.

"Hey, man," said the Captain's companion. Loki didn't get to know his name. "You can't sleep either?"

[No,] Loki showed cagily and took one step back, getting ready to dash back into the bedroom the moment the man goes for an attack. His stance wasn't aggressive, but Loki just invaded his space, and they were alone, so Stark's presence could no longer shield him. Loki could probably take the human on, even unarmed, he didn't look that impressive, but that would indubitably destroy the fragile peace between the two groups. Avoiding confrontation was the best course of action.

"Hold on to that," the man said, "I have the com-link Stark gave me here somewhere…" He dug through the heap of pillows and blankets until he found what he was looking for and put the small speaker into his ear. "Here it is! What was it?"

[No,] Loki showed again.

The man snorted out a laugh. "I should've figured that wasn't a full sentence."

He moved up from the sofa and towards Loki. Loki tensed, but the man passed him at a safe distance, heading for the kitchen. He opened one cupboard, then another. "Any idea where Stark keeps the cups?"

Loki followed him into the nook and opened the proper cabinet.

"Thanks," the man said, grabbed a cup, placed it on the coffee machine's tray and eyed the appliance pensively. Loki pressed the button to turn it on for him. He saw the humans do it enough times already. "For that too," the man added with a smile. "I'm Sam, by the way."

Loki gingerly shook his hand. Sam's eyes were on his face, sizing and calculating, but his gaze was neither derisive, nor bashful, nor it dashed away immediately after Loki met it.

"Damn, this thing looks even worse up close," he judged, then chortled at what probably was a deeply confused expression on Loki's face. "What? You must be used to stares, right?"

Loki huffed out a chuckle. That was an unexpectedly frank attitude for sure, but not an unwelcome one. He could appreciate people who did not shrink away from calling things what they were. [I am.]

Sam nodded and there was something dispirited in the motion. "If that helps, we all have pieces of our past stuck to us. The difference is only that most of us keep them on the inside. But it never does anything good to shy away from those. Avoiding a problem is never a way to solve it."

[Is that why you're helping Rogers?]

"I'm helping him because he needs my help. I don't need any reason beyond that."

Loki's eyes narrowed.

"He is trying to do the right thing. I can't stand aside when I can act, even if matching up Steve's splash is hard. He is landing his punches where they matter and it's enough for me to follow. What you and the rest of your avenging mates are doing is a good thing too."

[I'm just trying to survive.]

"Aren't we all?" Sam said lightly, "but survival on its own means little." He readjusted the settings on the coffee machine one last time before starting it, then opened the fridge and rummaged inside.

A sharp scent of freshly grounded beans hit Loki's nostrils and he wondered, yet again, how the beverage might taste like. He tried numerous Midgardian specialties in the past, with varying degrees of enjoyment, but not coffee, and the humans – perhaps minus Banner – seemed to be very fond of it, to a worrisome degree sometimes.

"Mmm, curry leftovers," Sam hummed, taking a plastic container out of the fridge, prying off the lid and sniffing at the contents. "You mind?"

Loki shook his head. [You've all seen how my last attempt at making a difference ended.]

"You mean the part where we were not completely overrun by an alien swarm?" Sam said as he scooped the food onto a plate, then put the dish into the small oven above the stove.

[Not for the lack of trying.]

Sam let out a small snigger, then his face grew serious, the smile slowly dying down. "We all did things we are not proud of." His eyes drifted away to focus on the fading darkness outside the window, his voice growing dark and weary. "Ever since I left the forces, I've spent a lot of time with vets… Former soldiers. People who came back, but not as a whole, parts of their souls left in the dirt. In Iraq, in Afghanistan, in Yemen, in Somalia. We all have the demons that haunt us. Things we did because we were ordered to or because we thought we had no other choice. Things we did, because it seemed like a good call at the time or just because we could…" He sighed and cleared his throat. "We all got our uncomfortable truths and our dark memories. But we cannot allow them to define us. It would mean living the rest of your life in the past and it's not what matters."

He turned back to Loki and looked him in the eyes and something in the gaze made Loki think of Heimdall. Was it just the skin color or was it the way Sam looked at him, his eyes deep brown instead of golden, but seemingly just as all-seeing?

"You're here now and you're trying to do the right thing. That's all I need to know," he said.

Loki blinked.

"Coming back from a dark place can get mind-boggling, especially now, with so many strangers around and with so much going on. But, if you ever need to talk, I'm here." His eyes stopped on the gag for a heartbeat. "Well, you know what I mean."

The oven beeped, announcing a finished cycle and Sam rushed to take his meal out. It smelled of cooked greens, rich protein, and hot, earthy spices.

Sam's clapped his shoulder and Loki stumbled minutely, surprised. "So, if you can't sleep and I can't sleep, wanna watch some infomercials reruns with me?"

Loki had no idea what infomercials were, but still nodded and followed Sam back to the living room.

"So, Rogers, would you be so kind and share with the class what you told me this morning?" Tony urged and waved Steve on when he stalled.

Pepper was still sleeping off the jetlag and their private reunion party, but the rest has gathered in the workshop for what Tony called an 'emergency session'. There were not enough chairs, so everyone just sat wherever. It didn't escape Tony's attention that the Loki's "wherever" of choice was by the opposite wall of the room, as far away from everyone as possible. On the floor. At least until Wilson – discreetly – beckoned him to move closer and join Romanoff on one of the benches. Tony couldn't help but think that having a certified therapist in the house was probably the best thing that came out of the whole Rogers deal, for now at least.

"Hydra is building Helicarriers to eliminate every potential threat to their interests," Cap said, "in the entire world, all at once, with some kind of… rays."

Told you so, Tony mouthed. Romanoff rolled her eyes and Clint grunted in annoyance.

"A long-range, highly concentrated heat ray to be exact, at least according to the old patent files I dug up," Tony added.

"Isn't ADS supposed to be non-lethal?" Wilson asked. "To be used on mobs and riots and so on?"

"The regular grade that were to go into mass production last year? Sure. The level of heat those generate is painful, but not enough to cause more than local first-degree burns, and that only if you're stubborn and do not move away. Much lower range, too. They still got dogged by ethical concerns though. And what Hydra is using is a whole new ballpark. Range up to ten miles and enough power to vaporize any organic matter within seconds, while doing minimal damage to property."

"Fuck me," Romanoff growled. "Do we know how long till they are done?"

"No idea. I have a few guesses, but…"

"They looked ready to me," Rogers interjected. "Sitwell said they had a setback with a power source, but didn't know the details," Rogers said.

"How did you get that guy to talk?" Romanoff asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He threw him off a twenty-story building," Wilson provided with a smirk.

"You did?" Natasha crooked her head. "And he talked after that?"

"Stark is not the only one who can fly, you know," said Wilson.

"I'm not?"

"Sam has…uhm, wings," Rogers said and bit his lip, struggling and failing to find a proper term inside his WWII brain and Tony had to stifle a laugh at the sight.

"Or, as you'd call it, a military-grade, flight-capable exosuit," Wilson explained, when it became obvious Cap wouldn't get the right definition out within this century.

Tony eyed the man curiously. Sure, such things existed, especially since he himself proved how useful such tech can be, but no one was handing those away to anyone who asked nicely. "I thought you said you're retired."

"I am. I used one of those when I was still flying missions. Steve helped me steal it."

"I can no longer recognize you, Steve," Natasha mocked. "Throwing people off buildings, stealing, raiding government facilities… What happened to the wide-eyed kid from Brooklyn who couldn't help but sing along when the American anthem started playing?"

"What's your goddamned problem, Romanoff?" Rogers snarled. There was no true vitriol in his tone, but he was on the edge just as the rest of them.

"I rest my case."

"I hate to be the one to kill the buzz, but can we focus?" Tony said, raising his voice. "The patent file isn't going into details, but if my estimations are right – and they usually are – a weapon like that would require a couple of terajoules to fire once. There's one power source on Earth capable of consistently providing this kind of power without needing hours to recharge that would still fit on a Helicarrier and it's in my possession. The world is still years away from working out and replicating it."

[Used to be two,] Loki said.

"You mean the Tesseract, right?"

[Yes. SHELD had used it to further their weapons program, had they not?]

"The Pegasus project," Romanoff said. "But the cube's gone now. Thor took it to Asgard."

[They still have the scepter.]

"Not that I'm surprised, it couldn't stay off the map for long and it was SHIELD that seized it in the first place, but A – how do you know? B – why does it matter in this particular scenario?"

[They tried using it on me. It didn't work because Odin's magic blocked the influence. But it would be naïve to think it's the only way they were ever going to utilize it.]

Romanoff let out an unhappy moan.

"Yeah, as a mind control thing. Which is terrifying in its own regard, don't get me wrong, but I don't see how it ties to their low orbit death laser project."

[It can also be a power source, to a certain point at least, although the energy it stores is not nearly as convenient to use by your kind of technology. But, if what the archives had to say about the Infinity Stones is true, there's a link between them, a loop, as they are – in a way – parts of the same whole. I'm keen to believe that, considering how strong the magical attraction between the scepter and the cube was.]

"Are you saying that they can use the scepter as a replacement for the Tesseract? To tap to its power without it even being on the same planet?"

[It's highly probable. The physical distance is not an issue if you have the Space Stone on the other side of the connection.]

"That's bad, bad news," Tony judged. "But, on the other hand, if we manage to nick it from their slimy hands somehow, their two-billion-dollar project is suddenly just a huge pile of flying junk. And if we then take it to the Mount Doom and throw it into lava, we would be solving two problems in one go."

[I'm going to assume it's one of your convoluted references, but, either way, destroying it wouldn't be easy. I'm not sure if it's even possible at all.]

"It is," Natasha said, thoughtfully, "but we can't do it."

Loki turned to her with his eyebrows drawn and Tony was with Loki on that one. "Care to elaborate?" he prompted.

"The apparition told me that, in the scenario where Thanos succeeded at collecting all the Stones, they got destroyed and the universe fell apart because of that."

"Well, that's a solid argument against it," Tony uttered. "Do we know what exactly he intends to do with them, or is it just an approximation of 'unspeakable evil' territory?"

[The legend says that all the Stones can be combined into an object of unmatched power, able to manipulate every aspect of reality to its wielder desire. If he succeeds, he can remake the universe to be whatever he wishes it to be.]

"That sounds ominous. Any ideas what it might be, exactly?"

[Unspeakable evil, presumably.]

Tony sighed. "And does the 'universe falling apart' still happen when only one Stone gets busted?"

"I don't know," Romanoff admitted. "I didn't ask."

"Can we find out somehow? That would be a decent compromise: we stop Hydra, prevent a space madman from finishing a weapon of mass destruction, and the universe still exists."

"And how do you imagine we should go about finding out?" Romanoff asked angrily. "It's not like I have a direct line to the creature."

[But you do,] Loki said.

Romanoff blinked at him and her lips pulled into a thin line. "You think I can reestablish the connection?"

[You found me, and our link wasn't nearly as strong.]

"It still took a year!"

[We still have time. Thanos' army is galaxies away and losing the scepter and the swarm put him back on his plan.]

"How much time are we talking about here?"

Loki shrugged. [If I had to guess I'd say at least a couple more years. He needs to recoup his loses and breed a new army before he tries again. His main ship is not capable of faster than light travel and too massive to use most nodes, were he to reach those, so – without the Tesseract – he must find a new mode of transportation.]

Tony already had seven pages filled with Loki's neat handwriting detailing that aspect of the interstellar travel, so he didn't need follow-up questions there and the rest seemed to take it at the face value. "I really hoped you're going to say centuries or something."

"Ebony Maw was able to open a portal without the Tesseract though. Both ways, too," Romanoff pointed out.

[One, most likely. I cannot be certain and it's all but a surmise, but I'd say he was stranded on Midgard after you closed the portal I devised to open. He is a powerful mage, but with the swarm gone and without any support there was little he could do for Titan's cause and the device he had was a single use only, for such a long way to travel. A safety precaution, charged with the scepter's energy. He must've figured that going back empty-handed would put Thanos' wrath on him, so he stayed hidden and waited for his opportunity. Delivering me to his master would make him focus on punishing me for the failure, sparing Maw and the rest of the Children.]

"You had one of those too? The getaway doodad?"

[No. I was not Thanos' champion. I was a thrall, and my only options were to succeed or die. As you can see, I failed to fulfill even that simple objective.]

Right.

Loki looked away and Romanoff edged closer and wrapped her fingers around his arm.

"I'd say that's good news," Clint said, after a moment of deliberation. "The Thanos timeline part, not the… rest. It gives us time to deal with Hydra and figure out a plan after that. That's what we should be focusing on right now, and the…"

"Wait," Tony interjected. "Let's go back a step. Does that mean the Maw guy is still somewhere on Earth?"

Loki's eyes narrowed. [It's possible.]

"How come we didn't stumble upon him yet? Someone would've noticed if there was an eight-foot gray alien going on a romp on Earth, yet there's not a single mention of him after that time he attacked the transport you two were on. Was there any other way for him to reach his master?"

[Not directly. But, as a mage, he had ways of leaving the planet. There are hidden paths, leading along the branches of the Yggdrasil, connecting Midgard to the other realms of the Nine. Even someone unfamiliar with their existence but adept at finding the traces of power could find them, given enough time. He could've found his way on from there.]

"So, are you saying there's a chance he has already fucked off?"

[Yes.]

"Why do I sense a 'but' coming?"

[But he might have stayed.]

"Right. Do we have a way of finding that out?"

Loki's hand sneaked up to his face before he answered. [No. At least for now.]

Not until I take that damned thing off, Tony understood. "Okay. I guess we just have to keep it in mind when we go in and retrieve the scepter, along with Pierce's backlog of fun."

"Is that what we're doing? That's the grand plan?!" Clint exclaimed. "There's only eight of us."

"Seven," Tony specified and added, but not before Loki's chin dropped, "Happy is staying with Pepper."

"Mhm," Clint murmured. "That's reassuring."

"We are the goddamned Avengers!"

"The Avengers are just a pipe-dream, Stark," Clint said and grunted, as Natasha elbowed him in the ribs. He didn't seem to care much about that expression of sympathy. "It was always just a publicity stunt that didn't work out and you're the only one who's not ready to admit that. It was never going to work and more so now, with Fury gone."

Tony swept the room. "Do you all believe that?"

Natasha muttered something unintelligible, Clint shrugged, and Rogers let out an exasperated breath. Even Loki's eyes were firmly at the floor.

"Bruce?"

"I'm just a liability, even on a better day," Banner said.

Tony's eyes turned to Wilson, the only person in the room that wasn't currently avoiding his glare.

"Don't look at me, I was never even officially invited."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Fine. Perhaps we are just all a bunch of losers who stepped into one shit too many. Perhaps if it wasn't for Fury's meddling we would've never met in this circle. But we did. We are here and there's stuff that needs to be done and we are going to do it, because nobody else can. If you don't want to take part in it, it's a good time to get up and leave."

Sam Wilson got up and turned to the door. Multiple sets of eyes followed him. "I'm not out. But I really need to use the toilet and I thought I'd never get the opportunity."

Bruce chortled and Rogers shook his head in disbelief.

"We appreciate the effort," said Clint. "But you should really consider allowing Nat to do the next big motivational speech, because, let me tell you, you suck."

"Is it really a dead Nazi running the program?"

"No, Clint, this old office pc I picked in a pawn shop is running the program, the dead Nazi is the program."

"You say that like it makes any sort of difference."

"It does," Stark grumbled.

Loki's eyes were narrowed and firmly on the blinking cursor on the screen. [Is something supposed to happen?] he asked.

"No. It's getting no data whatsoever, because there were no image or voice recognition procedures in the software and all I could bake in on the quick was text input. Go on, type something, you'll be its first contact with the world after who knows how long.

Loki's hands froze over the keyboard and his eyes widened. He turned and stared at Stark for a couple of seconds, then reached and pressed the power button, switching the computer off.

"Why did you do that for? It took half an hour to load!" Stark protested.

[You already have everything you need to know. You have the who, the why and the how. This is not going to make any difference, any detail you get will be fifteen years outdated.]

"Yeah, but I've spent hours getting this thing to finally compile, so we might just as well…"

[It's a mind,] Loki showed, and his gestures were quick and clipped. [Stuck in a machine, unable to hear or see or feel or move. I'm not in the mood to torment it further.]

He got up, turned on his heel and left the workshop, his feet slapping on the tiles angrily.

Stark's face went pale, and he pressed his fingers to his eyes.

"Are we going again?" Clint asked, his hand flying to turn the pc back on.

"No," Stark said curtly, unplugged the computer, tossed it into one of the lockers in the back and closed the metal door with a loud bang. "I'm going out, I need some air," he announced and left the room.

"What bit him all of sudden?"

"Well," Natasha said and tilted back in her chair, "it's not every day you receive a lesson on empathy from a guy who threw you out of your own window."

Steve cornered her in the kitchen. She saw him tiptoeing around her since he arrived, so it wasn't much of a surprise. He lasted longer than she expected anyway.

"Natasha," he said and reached for something inside the cupboard above the sink, only to realize it's empty and his pretense is foiled.

"Steve," she returned the greeting. "Coffee?"

"Caffeine doesn't work on me."

"You poor, poor soul."

Steve smiled then sat down on the kitchen stool, then dragged his hand through his hair. "I wanted to ask you… How is he?"

Not "how did you do it", not "what did Hydra do exactly", not even "where" or "when" or "why". Rogers truly cared about his long-lost friend. Then again, for him it was just, what, two years?

"He was hurt and confused. But he is strong, and he will heal, physically at least."

"Did he… remember?" Did he remember me, was the desired outcome.

"Bits and pieces only. He could barely recall his name and I didn't put together who he was until much later. I had Clint call you right away."

"Do you know where he might be now?"

"I have no idea," she admitted. "I'm sorry. We met twice, that first night, when he was sent to kill me, and I released him of the mind control…" And almost killed him. "And then a couple days later. He seemed better that second time and the conditioning didn't return, but he was still making sense of the new info inside his head. It was coming to him, slowly, and perhaps by now he can make out more of it, but he was gone by the next morning."

Steve looked at her, his eyes calculating. "Did you…"

She chuckled. "No, I don't have the habit of sleeping with mentally unstable people who happen to be in the same motel room, Steve." Only when I have business in it.

"I was just making sure if…"

"If I didn't take advantage of him. No, I did not. Here. Are you proud of my self-restraint?" It wasn't supposed to sound as bitter as it did when she started, but the suggestion unnerved her more than she initially thought. "Who do you take me for?"

Rogers flustered and she bit down the further remark.

"I'm sorry," he said and he sounded genuine. "I've heard what Clint said about you and Loki," he provided.

Like it explains anything. "And you thought I'm jumping onto every broken boy's cock I can find?"

"That's what not I meant," Steve said, avoiding her glare. He was deeply uncomfortable with where the conversation went. Good.

"Well, for future reference, do not assume you know anything about me. Besides, Barnes is not my type. You can have him all for yourself."

She whipped around and left Steve sitting there, with a low, distressed whine coming from his throat.