A World Without You

by DocWordsmith

Post-Endgame. The remaining Avengers are trying to rebuild their lives in the wake of Thanos and all the destruction he wrought. Some lost more than others. Some are gaining something new. They are all learning to heal, move forward, and live in a world without some of their best loved heroes and friends. (Endgame & Far From Home compliant, mostly - & yes, there will be spoilers)

3. A Rocky Balboa-style montage

a/n: Thank you all for the fabulous reviews. I legit just sit and read them with a stupid smile on my face and it makes life a little more livable (insight into the blackness of my soul). Oh, and to my Guest reviewers – thank you for your kind words & for purposely coming back to this story! :)

This chapter took on a mind of its own. Like, legit, Idek guys. Ended up making this one a lot longer than intended. So I had to split things up! Therefore, I may have promised some of you about things that would happen & they aren't in here. They will be! Just later than originally planned. Bc that's what happens when your characters decide they wanna be grown-ups and make their own rules. And I tried telling them, "NOT WHILE YOU'RE LIVING UNDER MY ROOF!" To which they all just laughed & did whatever they wanted, anyway. :P

Chapter 3: A Rocky Balboa-style montage

Cassie hated that she was walking away from the conference room where interesting things were happening. Typical.

Following Morgan, they approached the main lobby of the compound. It was a wide open space, with plenty of large windows to let the light in. There was a seating area off-center, with several chairs and couches arranged for a group to sit and chat. Perhaps it was an attempt to make it feel more welcoming, but Cassie always felt like it was the entryway of a corporate office building. She almost expected to find a directory listing the names of doctors or law offices. There was this impersonal, almost sterile feel to it – reminding everyone that the company of heroes was, in fact, a company. They were employees, and their specialized trade was saving lives and maintaining order. It wouldn't be a bad gig, really, save for having to answer to the law and the alphabet groups (FBI, CIA, NSA, et cetera). Then, there were other organizations, like SHIELD, its predecessors, and its successors.

Morgan settled into one of the chairs, claiming she needed to check on the items in her backpack. As the girl dug through the bag as sneakily as she could manage, Cassie glanced around the lobby, considering the building, its contents and inhabitants, and the massive expanse of property on which it sat, out in the countryside where things like target practice or accidental lab explosions wouldn't disrupt civilians.

Cassie sighed. Sometimes, she wished she could stay at the compound permanently, instead of just visiting occasionally as a tag-along. But that would mean being an Avenger. And Scott wouldn't even listen to her when she tried to talk about the possibility of helping out, so he definitely wasn't about to let her become a full-fledged superhero.

"Okay, all set!" Morgan announced, zipping up the pack and slinging it over one shoulder.

Cassie was about to respond when she saw a smile spread across Morgan's face. Then, she heard a familiar voice call her name. She turned around and smiled, too. "If it isn't Ava Starr," Cassie greeted with a wave as her friend walked towards them.

Morgan rushed to Cassie's side. She met Ava with a fist-bump, accompanied by a warm smile from Ava. "Hi, Smarty," Ava told the girl.

"Hi, Ghost," Morgan replied.

Then Ava locked eyes with Cassie and her face turned serious. "We need to talk."

"Well, hello, to you, too." Cassie teased. But Ava's face remained stony. "What is it?"

Ava hesitated, her eyes anxiously flitting around the empty space. She cleared her throat, nodding her head down at Morgan.

"Seriously?" Morgan groaned. "Sheesh. I'm not wanted anywhere!" She threw her hands up and turned to start walking away.

"Morgan!" Cassie called after her.

The little girl stopped, peeking back over her shoulder with a good-natured smile. "It's fine, Cass. I was about to ditch you so I could go to my secret lab, anyway." And then, she skipped away.

"Some 'secret' lab – I know exactly where it is." Cassie rolled her eyes and chuckled. She looked back to Ava, who was still staring at her and looking as serious as ever.

"Come with me." Ava unceremoniously grabbed her friend by the wrist and dragged her down a hallway.

Cassie allowed herself to be dragged along behind Ava for a bit before finally planting her feet and tugging her wrist from the other girl's grasp. "What is your deal?"

Again, Ava glanced around. Cassie groaned. "We're alone. Now, c'mon - spill."

Despite the reassurance of solitude, Ava grabbed Cassie's shoulders and scooted into a small alcove by a closed doorway of an empty meeting room. When she spoke, it was in a harsh whisper: "I thought you said you were gonna cool it."

Cassie blinked a few times, looking wide-eyed and unassuming. She shrugged. "You'll have to give me more than that."

Ava growled in frustration. "You know what I'm talking about!" She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back, a haughty look on her face. Clearly, she was prepared for some grand confession.

Cassie threw her arms out to the side, giving up. "Ava, there's only one thing you could be talking about. But, if that's the case," Cassie paused for confirmation that she was on the right track; Ava's raised eyebrow confirmed that she was. "I don't know what you're mad about, or whatever, because I have been on the lowest of the down-lows."

Ava scoffed disbelievingly. Cassie inhaled sharply. "Look, I agreed to scale it back. And I did!"

"I just spent a very uncomfortable car ride with Hank and Janet that suggests otherwise."

Well. That took Cassie by surprise. She leaned back, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean?" Ava's voice was louder now. She sighed. "Hank decided to take inventory of all his work product. He finds it interesting that one of his old prototype suits is unaccounted for, along with several newer materials and supplies."

Cassie looked down, rubbing her toe into the floor. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything," she said slowly. Even as she spoke, though, she knew her words weren't true. And she didn't have to look up to know that Ava agreed. Hesitantly, Cassie lifted her eyes to meet Ava's. "Did he say a suit was actually missing?"

"Not specifically, or definitively, no," Ava admitted.

"Okay," Cassie said softly, biting her lip. "Okay, so, then, there's a chance it could turn up."

"But we know that it's not going to. . ."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "But Hank doesn't know that!"

"No, but he will, won't he?" Ava chided.

In attempt to appear calmer than she actually felt, Cassie worked to keep her voice steady. "Hank probably just wanted to do an inventory anyway. It was only a matter of time before someone discovered that one of the suits was gone."

"So, you're just not going to do anything about this? " Ava asked suspiciously.

"There's nothing to do, Ava. And it's not like there's any kind of proof of anything." Cassie let out a breathy laugh. "Shit, we've moved things around so many times – for all Hank knows, a bunch of stuff is misplaced or lost!"

Ava didn't look entirely convinced, but she did seem mollified for the time being. She leaned against the wall and anxiously fidgeted with one of her silver bracelets. Cassie's eyes dropped to it. There was a thick band on each wrist, with silver on the outer edges and clear tubing in the center. As Ava twisted the bangle, the mixture of quantum and Pym particles swirled within it. The atoms looked like tiny pearls, crashing into each other and joining for a split second before separating again. On the under-side of the bracelet, pressed against Ava's skin, was a biometric mechanism. It allowed Ava's excess energy to be absorbed and regulated by the concoction of quantum and Pym particles, acting as a grounding force so that Ava's 'condition' was within her control.

It was Hank and Scott who had developed the idea, enacting it with the help of Bruce. When Shuri caught wind of their work, she insisted on being involved. She was the one who made the breakthrough that allowed the particles to give Ava more substance, making it so that she completely controlled the shifting that the quantum exposure had caused, while also keeping the elements from becoming volatile when combined. They even managed to make it so that it wasn't painful anymore. Eventually, everyone referred to Ava's condition as her "powers" and right then and there, she was inducted as an official Avenger.

"But Hank is suspicious. Which means that something made him suspicious. You really haven't been out doing anything?" Ava asked, stepping back into the main part of the hallway and watching Cassie expectantly.

Cassie looked her friend in the eyes. She didn't want to outright lie. So she chose her words methodically: "I. . . have been very careful."

Ava's eyes widened. "Shite. Cass!"

"What? I told you I'd scale back, not that I'd stop," Cassie argued. She rolled her eyes and before Ava could corner her in the alcove again, she started walking down the hall. Immediately, Ava was right beside her.

"I thought we only took the suit because the world was short on heroes."

"Right," Cassie agreed. Her ponytail bobbed as she nodded her head while walking. "And then I decided to keep it up because I'm actually good at being a hero."

Ava stopped suddenly. "Cassie." The word came out like a growl.

Cassie halted, turning back to meet the other girl's eyes, which had darkened.

Letting out a breath, Cassie walked back to stand directly in front of Ava. She placed her hands on her friend's shoulders because, despite being younger, Cassie was the taller of the two. "Ghostie," Cassie began, her voice sweet and only somewhat patronizing. "When everyone went missing during the Snap, the world was lost."

"Oh, here we go. . ." Ava groaned. She'd heard this speech before – it was the same one Cassie pulled out any time she wanted to convince Ava to help her with something. Usually, that 'something' involved the Wasp prototype suit they had 'confiscated' during the five years when half the population was missing.

"We took the suit because the world needed heroes. The earth needed defended and we stepped up to the challenge – you with your quantum-shifting, me with the suit that we fixed up. And we made a fantastic team, didn't we?"

Grudgingly, Ava nodded.

Cassie smiled. "And as we've continued upgrading that old suit, we've managed to make it pretty badass. It would be a shame not to use it!" Then, she added: "Besides, the Avengers are still stretched kinda thin. They shouldn't waste their energy on small-time disturbances." Cassie waved her hand dismissively. "So, maybe I do throw the suit on and take out a few miscreants now and again. It's keeping the streets safe and letting the Avengers stay focused on bigger issues. Where's the harm in that?"

Ava chewed on the inside of her cheek. She knew there was no point arguing, but a sly smile spread across her face. "If it's so great," Ava mused. "Then why are you afraid to tell Scott?"

Cassie snickered. "I'm not afraid to tell him." She tilted her chin up defiantly. "I am choosing not to tell him because I don't want him to worry unnecessarily."

Now, Ava snorted. "Yeah, that sounds right." Her voice oozed sarcasm.

"I'm serious!" Cassie tried to sound convincing. "Besides," she continued, "I couldn't exactly call it a 'secret identity' if I didn't keep it secret, could I?"

Ava considered Cassie for a moment. Finally, she gave up. "Just, promise you'll be careful? And tell me when you go out, so I can come with you." Her eyes dropped down for a second before looking back to the younger girl with resolve. "I've learnt the hard way what it's like out there without backup. It's not worth the risk."

Cassie had to agree that Ava had come a long way since her dad first met her years earlier. They exchanged smiles and then Ava side-stepped her friend, continuing down the hall. Cassie spun around and quickly fell in step beside her.

Trying to lighten the mood, Cassie nudged Ava with her elbow. "By the way. . . I came up with a name."

"Oh, yeah?" Ava asked in a neutral tone as they returned to the lobby.

"Yeah," Cassie said. She swerved in front of Ava with a wide grin on her face.

"All right. What is it?" Ava asked, trying to appear disinterested.

Cassie's grin turned into a devious smirk. She leaned forward and proudly gave voice to the moniker she had come up with: "Stinger."

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

The Avengers Compound was laid out, for the most part, like a labyrinth. From the main entry point, there were several hallways that branched off. They all led to the different sections of the facility, which all served distinct purposes.

Of course, there were the residence areas. Primarily, in the southwest part of the compound, was the wing for full-time housing, where the permanent residents had apartments. Bruce's place was first on the "avenue." It was nearest to the stairwell so he could easily come and go to his lab, which was directly upstairs. Then came the Potts-Stark home, where Pepper and Morgan lived. Beside them was Rhodey, so they were directly situated between two friends who could be ready to protect them at a moment's notice. Across from Rhodey, Bucky had a bachelor's pad. His neighbor was Wanda, followed by Sam's apartment across from Bruce. Upstairs from there was, of course, Bruce's primary lab, next door to a large suite that served as a semi-permanent residence for the Guardians of the Galaxy – with multiple rooms and more of a hostel feel to it, since one never quite knew when the Guardians were going to come or how long they would stay.

In the opposite direction, to the southeast, was temporary housing where visitors could stay in hotel-style suites.

There was also the stand-alone studio apartment, dubbed the "Stark Wing," which was separate from the other residences, in the western-most edge of the compound. Morgan had quickly claimed the Stark Wing to use as a clubhouse, workshop, multi-purpose area, etc., and no other additions had been made in that section.

The rest of the compound was a combination of conference/meeting rooms, offices, technical/control rooms, labs, med-bays, armories, kitchens, dining spaces, training areas, rec rooms, and gyms. And, of course, a swimming pool because, why not?

The eastern-most part of the compound had a huge garage and air-craft hangar, for any and all modes of transportation. Automobiles and jets were stored there, along with spare parts. Harley Keener had a small house a few miles away and served as a part-time mechanic, visiting the compound regularly. When he wasn't in the garage, he did tech work – usually modifying or developing weapons and other gadgets.

Next to the hangar was a shooting range where various projectiles were tested. Mostly, that consisted of the Bartons further perfecting archery. There were a times, though, that also involved Rocket playing with some new equipment he found in space – a rocket launcher and laser gun among the most exciting finds. Morgan had also tested out a potato shooter that Harley helped her build for a school science fair – an award-winning potato gun, in fact.

There were several other unattached buildings, for storage, overflow of weapons, or the like.

There was also a barn and stables, complete with a few horses – including two of the three Asgardian Pegasi (the third Pegasus was Valkyrie's personal steed, which remained with her in New Asgard). A corral led to a fenced-in pasture. Beyond that was open countryside leading to a forested area, with a creek nearby. Technically, the Avengers and Stark Industries owned the Compound and the several hundred acres surrounding it, ensuring privacy.

Finally, in the basement of the compound, was a holding area with a handful of cells for anyone who might be taken captive. It had been a precaution, "just in case."

The cells had never been used.

That was about to change.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

With a heavy sigh, Pepper Potts-Stark broke her own rule about maintaining proper posture, sliding down in the office chair at the desk of the control panel. The chair tilted and Pepper bounced her leg, rocking back and forth. The image on the computer screen showed the black-and-white speckled snow-storm that occurred when video feed died out. She'd lost track of how many times she had watched the CCTV footage by now, trying to latch onto anything that might tell her where the person went, exactly what tech he was using, and – most importantly – who the hell he was.

She had come up with zilch.

FRIDAY had been doing her best to help, pouring over every detail of the video together. They focused heavily, of course, on that split-second when the figure glanced toward the camera before taking it out with a repulsor blast (which is what Pepper realized he had done, on her 150th viewing).

Still, even between Pep and the AI, they hadn't accomplished much.

FRIDAY did manage to isolate the energy signature. So she promised that the minute he appeared again, she should be able to determine his location. Then, Sam could deploy a team. FRIDAY would have a lock on the energy, and the person, by that point, meaning that even if the Avengers didn't get to his exact location on time, they'd be able to follow him. At least that felt like some kind of progress. Pepper decided to count it as a win.

She straightened up and gathered her hair into a loose bun, securing it with an elastic tie she had around her wrist. Swiping her bangs from her eyes, she said, "FRIDAY, run another search for any other cameras near this alleyway. There has to be something that can offer a different angle – or something with color, or sound. . ." her voice trailed off.

"So far, the CCTV footage seems to be the only camera that caught the event. Nothing else is positioned properly, or close enough," FRIDAY explained. She was patient and cordial as always, but Pepper could tell that the AI was frustrated, too.

"Okay. Can you try improving the quality of the video, then?"

FRIDAY was silent for a moment. When she finally spoke, it was reluctantly. "I'm afraid there isn't much wiggle room with the resolution." In response, Pepper groaned. "I'll see what I can do," FRIDAY offered quickly.

Pepper leaned forward, propping her elbows up on the desk and resting her chin in her hands, hoping for FRIDAY to come up with something.

Behind her, the door to the control room opened with a squeak – the tell-tale sign of hinges in need of some WD-40. Pepper made a mental note to tell Harley about that later.

Pep lazily spun around in the chair, assuming she'd find Sam or Bucky (or both). She gasped softly when she saw that it was Nebula standing near the half-open door. The Luphomoid was standing at an angle, looking like she was trying to decide between coming further in the room or darting back out into the hall.

"Hi!" Pepper exclaimed, standing up and straightening out her dress slacks.

Nebula nodded tersely, her lips pursed tight. After another second of thought, she turned and walked toward Pepper. "Rocket said something about a surveillance video?" Her black eyes flicked down to the computer screen, which showed a freeze frame of the repulsor-wielding figure taking out one of the alleyway assailants. "Is that it?"

"Uh-huh," Pepper answered, her head bobbing up and down.

Nebula regarded the screen for a only moment longer before quickly turning her head to face the other way, like the image offended her. Maybe it had, in some way.

"Shall I play the footage for you, Nebula?" FRIDAY offered.

"No," Nebula replied hurriedly. She clicked her tongue, then looked at Pepper. "Wilson is planning on going after this. . . person, once he is located?"

Pepper nodded. Then she added, "And FRIDAY thinks we're close. As soon as he pops up again, she'll know about it. And when FRIDAY knows, we'll know."

Nebula kept her eyes trained on Pepper, blinking. Finally, she said, "I will be on that team."

"Oh. Okay. I'll, um, I'll let Sam know that you volunteered and are interested—"

But Nebula shook her head, interrupting Pepper's train of thought. "I am not volunteering," she stated. "I will be on that team," the Guardian specified.

"Consider it done," Pepper told her.

Seemingly appeased, Nebula turned and silently stalked toward the door. It was a graceful walk, but also predatory. Despite the fact that practice had drastically improved her social skills and she had even started transitioning her wardrobe to more casual, Earth-wear, there was no mistaking that she was a trained assassin. Anyone who saw her would know immediately that she was not to be trifled with because she could easily kill you with her bare hands. But in recent years, Nebula had learned that just because she could, didn't mean she should, or would, or had to. That was a testament to what a difference time can make in someone's life. And proof of the power of grief and loss – character is forged by fire, after all.

She had just reached the door when Pepper called after her: "You really cared about him."

Nebula came to a sudden halt. She turned and with just a few long strides, she was by Pepper's side again. The Luphomoid focused her attention on the computer monitor, apparently preferring that over eye contact. "I never had friends," she said simply. "Never needed them. Never even knew what a friend was."

As if feeling Pepper's curious gaze, Nebula clarified, "My sister and I tried to be close, but we were ever at odds. Emotions were. . . discouraged."

"What about the Guardians?" Pepper had to ask.

"Well, yes." Nebula smirked, giving the woman a side-eye. "But they're idiots."

Pepper chuckled softly. She could hear the hint of fondness in the other's voice. There was no animosity, as Nebula did care about her fellow space travelers. But the subtext was clear: They were teammates, first and foremost. While she felt a kind of kinship to them, she was talking about something wholly different when she used the word 'friend.'

There was a long pause. Then, Nebula turned ever so slightly to look at Pepper. "I didn't know what it meant to have friends, or to be one," she repeated. "Until Tony Stark showed me."

A lump lodged itself in Pepper's throat and she could feel tears welling in her eyes. She tried to blink them away. The silence stretched between them, filled only with Pepper sniffling.

Nebula raised her arm, letting it hover in the air for a minute. Hesitantly, she reached forward and placed her hand on Pepper's shoulder. She squeezed firmly, comfortingly. Finally, she made eye contact. Pepper wiped at her eyes and then put her own hand over Nebula's, patting it and smiling at her.

"Tony—" she paused, shook her head, then started again, "Tony was my first true friend. For a while, my only friend." Nebula looked down then, as something flashed across her face. It could have been any number of emotions and more than likely was a combination of things. Pepper thought it most closely resembled affection, and sadness. "He was. . . a good man."

"Yes," Pepper agreed.

"He frustrated me," Nebula added.

That made Pepper laugh out loud, with tears still in her eyes. "Yeah, he was really good at that."

Then, Nebula pulled her hand away. Her arms hung at her sides, and she looked down at her own hands as she clenched them into fists. Determination burned in her eyes when she looked back at Pepper. "If someone is using Tony's technology, I am going to find out how they got it. And why."

The intention of the Luphomoid's words were clear: A solemn vow, to defend the life and work and memory of someone she loved. And Pepper gave a single, curt nod in acknowledgment. After which, Nebula turned and headed for the door.

"Nebula?" Pepper inquired stopping her again. She didn't wait for a response. "I hope you know, you still have friends."

"I know," Nebula replied, looking back at the strawberry-blonde. There was a softness on her face unlike Pepper had seen before.

"And if you ever get tired of traveling the galaxies, there would definitely be a place for you here." Pepper tilted her head in thought, considering Nebula's loyalty. "I might even put you to work at Stark Industries," she suggested, her tone playful but still meaning every word.

Nebula's lip quirked up ever-so-slightly at the corner. "I'll keep that in mind."

With that, she slipped out the door and was gone. Pepper sat back down, spun her chair around, and rapped her nails on the desk. She smiled to herself, counting the interaction with Nebula as a major win for the day.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

After the Battle for Earth, the real work began: Rebuilding the world, with a sudden surplus of people and comparatively diminished resources. Plus the challenges of loved ones returning after those who were left behind had moved on, and the many who came back to find that they had nowhere to go – raising unemployment and homelessness to all-time highs on a global scale.

Factor in the loss of three of the world's greatest heroes and how the ones who remained were simply tired. Times were not easy on anyone, least of all Sam Wilson. He had been flung into a leadership role with basically no direction or guidance, and limited resources. He also had some very big shoes to fill and several strong personalities to manage. Trying to assemble all the Avengers was difficult enough. The thought of making them an actual team seemed nigh on impossible.

To his credit, Sam didn't give up. He had always been a pretty laid-back, carefree kind of guy – the kind of person who was everybody's friend, someone that you wanted to have fighting beside you in a fight. But he was also someone who took orders rather than gave them. Being the man in charge required a vast amount of growth and character development over a short amount of time. If life were a movie, Sam was certain the events of the last several years would have played out in a Rocky Balboa-style montage – real epic, "eye of the tiger," team bonding, quest-y type shit.

Alas, life is not a movie. So Sam worked hard every day. He trained to be a better fighter, to be able to serve his team best. And he did his best to establish relationships. People like Bucky and Wanda helped, setting an example that he could be trusted. Pepper became like a business partner, taking care of a lot of things Sam never would have even thought about. Plus, Stark Industries continued to fund the Avengers Initiative, which made it possible to even continue.

It was slow-going at first. But after Spiderman's run-in with Mysterio, it was clear that the world still needed all of them – and they needed each other, too. They all rallied together to help Peter with fallout of the Mysterio event. From there, things went smoother. Eventually, everyone fell into a rhythm, and they started working together on missions. Finally, the Avengers dream seemed to have been actualized.

That didn't mean things were simple though. There were still struggles and disagreements, and they were all in a constant state of tension as they waited for the next Thanos-level threat to rear its ugly head. Until then, they dealt with the smaller issues and practiced working together. And they bonded. Hence, their annual gathering – which was intended to bring them all together as much as it was to commemorate the sacrifices of the ones they'd lost.

Sam had the added struggles of leading. He had gotten better at it. But he still found it tough at times. There were things he didn't know, including things he didn't even know he didn't know. And giving orders was still uncomfortable sometimes – especially when he thought about the people he was commanding: demigods, geniuses, spies, aliens, intergalactic warriors. . . not to mention that most of them were older than him (some of them by centuries).

That's why Sam hesitated before hitting SEND on the text he had drafted to Dr. Stephen Strange.

He had listened to Clint's protests about trusting Loki; had discussed with Pepper about giving the benefit of the doubt; saw the look in Bucky's eyes when it was even implied that Loki had been tortured. . .

Even his own opinion was to give Loki a chance. He wanted to trust him – and sometimes, that could be the most dangerous thing of all. So Sam decided to make the most diplomatic choice: Cautious optimism. He would let Loki stay and would even leave him off a leash, to let him prove himself, hoping for the best. But he would also be prepared for the worst. Of course, FRIDAY knew to keep a close watch on Loki and to report about any questionable behavior. Sam wanted a little more of a proactive stance, though.

So, he had gone back to his apartment and pulled out his phone. He started a new text, to Dr. Strange, typing out: 'Hey, Strange – I could use your help with something right away. How fast can you get to the compound?'

He stared at the screen for a moment. With a heavy sigh, he pressed SEND, and he heard the tell-tale whoosh of the message going through.

Within seconds, the phone pinged. Sam read the three-word reply: 'Be right there.'

No sooner had Sam set the phone on the counter than he heard a knock on his door. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously before remembering that he was dealing with a fucking wizard who could open inter-dimensional portals and step right through them. So the fact that it took him all but two seconds to travel there actually shouldn't have been that much of a surprise.

"Hey, Strange," Sam greeted. He swept his arm through the air in a 'come on in' gesture.

The doctor stepped into the room with a polite smile. "Hi," he replied, courteously enough.

Sam led him over to the kitchenette, pulling a bottle and a couple shot glasses out of the mini-bar. "Do you want a drink?" he asked, holding the bottle up.

Strange raised an eyebrow as he sat in one of the bar-stools at the counter. "Do I need one?"

Sam let out a single laugh. Then his smile faded and he took on a more serious attitude, trying to think of how best to word the news he needed to deliver. He threw back the shot and sucked in a sharp breath. Clutching the empty glass to his chest, he said, "Loki's alive."

Surprise flashed across the Sorcerer's face. Then, an odd expression that Sam couldn't quite place. Strange swallowed hard before asking, "How do you know?"

There was a pause. Sam poured another drink. He picked up the glass and raised it. Before putting it to his mouth, he eyed Strange over the rim. "Because," Sam started. He hesitated, emptied the shot glass, slammed it down on the counter. "He's here."

"That's. . . not possible," the Sorcerer said slowly.

Furrowing his brows in confusion, Sam set his glass in the sink and rested his palms on the counter. "I'm serious – he really is alive."

"No, I believe that."

"Then what?" Sam queried.

Strange exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "When you say he's 'here,' you mean—what, exactly?"

With a nod toward the door, Sam said, "Here, in the compound. In the temporary residences."

Strange's eyes widened. He glanced toward the doorway.

After a few moments of silence, Sam cleared his throat. "Did you hear me?" he asked. "Loki's here—"

"No." Strange's short reply was harsh and clearly indicated no-nonsense.

"'No?'" Sam repeated, almost mockingly. He felt his professionalism fading, and he kind of wanted to slap the cryptic Sorcerer on the side of the head. "Whatchu mean, no?"

Seeming to try to choose his words carefully, Strange started to explain. "If Loki were here – in this compound or anywhere else on earth – I would have been notified." He narrowed his eyes. "I received no such notice. Ergo, no Loki."

"Well, consider this your notice." Sam leaned farther forward on his palms, face-to-face with the doctor. "I am notifying you right now, Strange. Loki is here – on this planet, in this building, right fucking now."

Suddenly, the doctor stood up. "Bullshit."

Sam straightened up in turn, his hands sliding off the counter and dropping to his sides. "What?" he asked coolly.

Strange side-stepped around the counter and took a step toward the leader, apparently hoping to use his height as an intimidation tactic. He stared down at Sam. "Bull. Shit," he repeated, enunciating the words.

They stared at each other for a minute. Neither spoke. Sam took slow, measured breaths as he matched Strange's stern gaze. Finally (surprisingly), the Sorcerer Supreme gave in. His lungs deflated as he stepped back with eyes wide again.

"Loki's really here?"

Sam let out an exasperated groan. "That's what I've been saying!"

Unexpectedly, Strange turned away, his Cloak swirling behind him as he did. And he started pacing. He seemed intent on burning a path into Sam's carpet.

"What's up, Doc?" Sam asked, unable to restrain himself from the playful words. He leaned back against his fridge, looking expectantly at his guest.

Strange stopped mid-step. He looked over to Sam with a frown. "I have a list—"

"So, you're Santa Claus?" Sam interrupted, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Strange rolled his eyes but decided to let it go. "The list contains the names of individuals who pose a threat to this realm," he continued. "It is enchanted and updates itself regularly. The moment anyone whose name is on the list starts breathing Earth's air, I am notified."

"Well, maybe Loki figured out a way to – wow, I can't believe I'm saying this – I dunno, like, hide from the list, or something?" Sam offered.

Strange gave him a look that emphasized how stupid the idea was. "That truly is impossible." He rubbed his chin. The pacing continued. But this time it only lasted a moment. The doctor came to a sudden stop, hitting like a ton of bricks. He started muttering to himself, working through whatever was in his mind: "The only way that— But that can't be, can it? No, certainly not— And yet—"

Sam waved his arm in the air. "Strange. Mind including me in this conversation you're having with yourself?"

"The only way that the list wouldn't notify me of Loki's presence is if Loki wasn't on the list."

Sam stared at him blankly. "Well, no shit, Sherlock."

Strange's eyes shot to the ceiling and he groaned. "No, what I mean is – okay , Loki used to be on the list. Near the top, actually." The Sorcerer took a step closer. "None can conceal themselves from the list and its enchantments. But it is possible to be taken off the list."

"Like when we thought he was dead?" Sam questioned, frowning.

"More like, when you stop being a threat," was the answer. Before Sam could respond, Strange started laughing to himself. Thinking out loud again, he mumbled, "I can't believe I didn't think of it. It's really very simple. But also. . . complex." His eyes were wide and appeared to be twinkling with fascination. He sounded intrigued and almost impressed.

"Hold up," Sam said, leaning away from the fridge and folding his arms across his chest. "Are you—are you trying to tell me that Loki's actually not a threat?" The look on Strange's face answered for him. "Pfft. No way." Sam scoffed exaggeratedly. "I mean, he told us he wasn't planning anything; and between him and Bruce and everything Thor has said, everyone was pretty convinced that he's changed. But, I mean – c'mon!"

Strange held his hands up. "Make no mistake – he's still Loki. Still incredibly powerful and, I'm sure, a sneaky asshole. But it would seem that he's genuinely lost interest in taking over our world."

"Well, hot damn." Sam forced a laugh, not totally sure about the appropriate response. But then he decided that things still hadn't changed, really. Although maybe now he could lean a bit more in Loki's favor, he still wanted to play things safe. "The situation remains the same: We agreed to let him stay until Thor comes tomorrow. Then we'll all make a more permanent decision."

Strange nodded, as if in agreement. But Sam knew he still needed to make his intentions clear. "In the meantime, I want someone to watch him."

Realization clicked immediately. "Oh, no. . ." Strange started backing up.

"Strange—"

"I'm not a babysitter!" The man exclaimed. "Besides, there are half a dozen of you who live here full-time. Not to mention the fact that everyone else will be here within 24 hours. And I'm sure several have arrived already. Why did you have to call me in special for this?"

"Because Loki is too powerful," Sam stated plainly. That seemed to be enough to shut Strange up long enough for the leader to continue: "If shit does hit the fan, I need someone who can handle it." He rubbed his eyes with his palms. "I need someone who would actually be a match against Loki. That's you."

There was a pause. The Sorcerer opened his mouth to say something else, but Sam beat him to the punch. "It's not really a request, Strange." They locked eyes again and Sam knew that he'd won. Thank goodness for Strange's sense of duty.

With a groan, the doctor asked, "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Just, watch him. Make sure he stays out of trouble. If he causes trouble, stop him."

Strange looked his friend up and down inquisitively. Finally, he nodded.

"Thanks," Sam said quietly.

Without another word, Dr. Strange left the apartment. Sam sighed. He decided not to let the second shot glass go to waste and poured himself another drink, all too aware that things were far from settled.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Stephen exhaled heavily in the hallway outside Sam's apartment. He knew he'd had no choice but to oblige when Sam requested his presence. And after hearing about this side-mission, and seeing the seriousness in Sam's eyes, Stephen knew he had no choice but to acquiesce.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit peeved. He had recently become addicted to a Japanese sushi bar near Bleecker Street, and his take-out order had just arrived. His evening had already been trampled on by the fact that Wong, who was due back from London, said he wouldn't be back until the next morning because he also had to make a quick follow-up trip to the Hong Kong sanctum. So, Stephen had been left with far too much food to eat by himself. Except it was looking like he wouldn't get to eat it. And his friend would likely return just in time for the reunion. Thus, Wong would have to catch him up on news from the sister sanctums later. Meaning it was going to be a working vacation. Just great.

With a sigh, he shook his head and started walking toward the temporary residences. His thoughts were racing as he tried to decide whether he should approach Loki directly or just camp outside his suite. Or maybe it'd be best to just settle into a control room and have FRIDAY give him updates?

Before he could decide on anything, though, Stephen was surprised by the Cloak of Levitation peeling off his shoulders and streaking ahead of him, down the hall and around the corner. The Sorcerer Supreme stared at the empty space for a moment, dumbstruck. Then his senses returned. "Hey!" he called as he ran down the hall.

He turned the corner and saw his Cloak waiting at the end of that hallway. "What was that about?" he asked, slowing down and walking forward. When he was halfway there, the Cloak surged forward, disappearing around another corner.

"Really?!"

Stephen started running again, blindly skidding around the corner. In his haste, he didn't bother to look before making the turn. So, he didn't notice the other person coming down the hallway until it was too late – when they crashed into each other and toppled to the floor.

For a few minutes, Stephen and the other person were nothing but a tangle of limbs, exchanging a mix of expletives followed by half-mumbled apologies. Finally, Stephen managed to somewhat right himself, planting his hands on the floor and holding himself up. He looked at the face of the person beneath him and felt his throat dry up as he gazed into cool blue eyes, wide with shock.

"Strange?" Loki asked.

"Um, yeah. Yes. Hi," Stephen mumbled.

Loki pursed his lips. "Um." Then, he narrowed his eyes. "Get off of me." The god commanded.

Stephen was quick to oblige. He hoisted himself up and to his feet. He stretched his hand out, ready to help Loki up, only to find himself staring at the Asgardian's boots because he was already standing. Stephen's eyes slowly traveled upward, over long, leather-clad legs – seriously? Who wears leather pants in the summer? – and a silken tunic. He had the same face that Stephen remembered from their meeting before, although he was certain that Loki looked healthier now – his face was brighter, skin softer, his eyes clearer. He even stood straighter, like a weight had been lifted off his lean shoulders.

Stephen was staring. He had to have been staring – what a creep. He felt himself gulp. Why did his throat feel like a desert? He heart hammered against his chest and there was a tightness in his stomach.

Loki tilted his head to the side, blinking in curiosity. His hair flopped as his head moved. It wasn't greased back like usual, but was looser and fuller and—

"Your hair is wet," Stephen announced. Oh shit. He said that out loud. Why? Why did he say it out loud?

The corner of Loki's mouth curled up into a smirk. Those icy eyes twinkled with amusement. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short when the Cloak of Levitation draped itself over his shoulders.

"Hello?" Loki said softly. The Cloak wrapped across Loki's chest, the corner of the fabric caressing his porcelain-esque cheek. He chuckled softly – a musical kind of sound.

"Darling," Stephen said firmly, chastising.

Loki's head snapped up. "Excuse me?"

Stephen wanted to kick himself. He laughed nervously. "Oh, no. Um, the Cloak." He pointed to the garment. Then he cocked his head to the side. "Odd – she doesn't usually take to strangers."

Loki smiled at that. A genuine, far-off smile. "Well, that explains it. We're not strangers." The mischief-maker lifted a hand and patted the Cloak gently. "We've met before. Although, it was quite some time ago and only very briefly. I'm flattered that she remembers."

"You would be difficult to forget," Stephen spoke in a quiet voice. Loki had his face tilted down toward the Cloak, but his eyes flicked up to Stephen's face, regarding the Sorcerer carefully under a curtain of long eyelashes.

"If I didn't know better," Loki began, "I'd think you were trying to charm me."

Stephen didn't say anything to that. He was too distracted by the familiar pull of magic around him. It felt like his own, and yet there was something different, too – almost like a mixture of chemicals reacting to each other and creating a static charge in the air. The tug was magnetic, and Stephen had to fight to keep himself from being pulled in. He purposely took a step back and cleared his throat. The Cloak lifted off Loki's shoulders, fluttering in the air for a moment – show-off – before returning to its master.

"She suits you," Loki told him softly. It almost sounded complimentary. Before Stephen could respond, Loki swiped a hand through his wet hair. "So. I'm not dead. . . As you can see."

"Yes, I heard." Stephen nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. "I'm glad. For you, that is. To not be dead, I mean."

Pull yourself together, Strange. You're a doctor, for fuck's sake!

Suspicion flashed across Loki's face. "You already knew I was here." It wasn't posed as a question. So, Stephen chose not to answer it.

Instead, he said: "You know, we didn't officially meet last time."

Loki crossed his arms and made a sour expression. "You mean when you knocked me into a never-ending free-fall for half an hour?"

Stephen blanched. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

They held each other's gaze for a moment. Then Loki shrugged. "I did try to stab you afterward. I suppose that squares us."

Stephen cleared his throat. "In that case, maybe we can start over." He extended his hand. "Dr. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, protector of Earth, Master of the Mystic Arts. And you are?"

Loki rolled his eyes in amusement. But then he decided to play along. He took a deep breath and recited: "Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief, rightful king of Jötunheim, brother of the splendid Thor. . . I'm probably forgetting other titles." They both smiled and then Loki shook Stephen's hand.

The second they touched, that faint static charge in the air seemed to have been turned up to 11. Golden lines of Stephen's mystic energy swirled their way up Loki's arm. At the same moment, a surge of green seiðr radiated along Stephen's arm. Stephen's palm felt hot, but was instantly cooled by Loki's fingers wrapped around his hand. The green mist of seiðr danced all the way to the Sorcerer's shoulder, chilling him in the best possible way, like menthol. Fascinated, he watched as his own golden magic slithered up to Loki's neckline, sparking and licking like a ghostly flame.

Coming to their senses, they ripped their hands apart. Stephen pulled his hand close to his chest, relishing the cool feeling and trying to remember the sensation of Loki's hand in his. His entire body tingled, but not in a way that was unpleasant; in fact, quite the opposite.

"What in Hel was that?" Loki muttered, still wide-eyed and inspecting his hand like the appendage had never been there before.

Suddenly, it was like Stephen was seeing Loki for the first time. The emerald tunic Loki was wearing fit perfectly, hugging his body in all the right places. And suddenly it didn't matter whether the leather pants were appropriate for the season, because all Stephen could think was that it had to be downright sinful for pants of any kind to look that good on someone. Past the gracefulness of that lithe body, Stephen trained his eyes on Loki's flawless face. He had to appreciate the fine lines of Loki's jaw and cheekbones, the apparent softness of his lips. Looking deep into the god's eyes was like staring into the ocean – full of wisdom and soul, centuries of the best and worst of life, pools of depth and mystery. . . pools that Stephen found himself desperately wanting to dive into.

"Are you hungry?" The question was out of Strange's mouth before he even realized he was asking.

Loki looked at Stephen. Blinked a few times, regaining composure. He puckered his lips and regarded the Sorcerer carefully. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

Stephen laughed. "Because I was about to sit down to a meal when Sam called me here. I'm still starving, and the food is still waiting. It could easily be reheated, and I have more than enough."

"Are you—" Loki hesitated. His cheeks were tinted with an attractive shade of pink. "Are you asking me to dine with you, Doctor?"

"I guess I am." Then, Strange gave a sly grin. "Someone would be very disappointed if you declined." He inclined his head, subtly gesturing to the Cloak.

Loki snorted. "That's dirty pool." He smirked and took a step forward. With a mock gasp, he accused: "I think you put her up to this. Set this whole thing up."

"I assure you, I did not." Stephen returned the banter, feigning insult. Then, it was his turn to blush. "It's not entirely by accident that I'm here, though," he confessed. He cast his eyes downward, in a self-castigating manner. "Sam asked me to spy on you."

"Ah." Loki clicked his tongue. "I figured they'd send someone." His tone was lighter than Strange would have expected, almost sounding proud of himself for having been right.

Then, the mage sighed and gave an exaggerated wave of his hand. "I suppose I do have to eat."

Stephen looked up, eyes of steel meeting eyes like ice. He couldn't help himself from smiling. Then, without so much as a thought, his Sling Ring conjured a golden portal, showing the Sanctum's dining room on the other side.

Loki looked at the portal with disdain. Stephen's smile widened. "Don't worry – I won't let you fall."

"'Let me?'" Loki asked, arching an eyebrow. He stepped up to the portal but stopped short, glancing at the doctor. "Stop looking so smug. It's going to take far more than a supper and cheap flattery to win me over." Then, he disappeared from the hallway.

Stephen grinned to himself. "Challenge accepted," he muttered as he followed through the portal and let it close behind him.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

a/n 2: Shoot dang. Whooooooo's ready for romance?! 😉 Hope you enjoyed, all! Let me know your thoughts in your reviews. And, hey, here's something fun. . . Time for y'all to participate! For an upcoming chapter, someone will be driving a car. Give me suggestions for what kind of car she should drive – preferably something super cool, flashy, full of badassery. I'll pick one of your suggestions and give a shout-out to the person who suggested it! 😊