a/n: I'M STILL ALIVE! Sorry for the long absence, loves. I finished my first Doctoral Residency successfully, and life has been non-stop since then. Hoping to be able to get back into regular postings soon, but not making any promises (your words of encouragement have been amazing, though, and I appreciate all of you sticking with me and this story). To make up for making y'all wait, here's a bit of a longer chapter (mostly bc Thor Loki would not shut up). Enjoy, leave me love, and know that I think you're phenomenal humans. Chapter warning: Some mentions of torture. Not too, too much - mostly allusions and a few semi-graphic (maybe?) references.
Chapter 6: Famous last words
Walking down the hallway with Valkyrie and Thor on either side of him filled Loki with a sense of nostalgia; an oddly familiar feeling, as if they had traveled back in time. And yet, somehow, it also felt like something completely new and different. The fact that he was in the Avengers Compound only made things stranger.
And speaking of strange. . .
Loki purposely kept his gaze dead-ahead, fully aware of the Sorcerer just steps behind him. He could feel the warmth of Strange's magic, like it was reaching out to him and tugging, trying to pull him close and wrap itself up in him. And it would be too easy to give in to that pull, to cover himself not just because of the mystic energy, but the very magic that is Stephen Strange. Fortifying himself, Loki inhaled deeply and held his head up, determined not to look back at the mortal.
Vaguely, Loki recalled one of his countless lessons in magic with his mother – something from his youth, centuries ago. . . She had told him that some kinds of seiðr and other magics were attracted to each other; that magic is sentient and has wants, which can be channeled through its user; that some beings can be bonded to one another, with magical energy functioning in a capacity similar to animalistic pheromones. It was a primitive and not terribly elegant comparison, but that made it no less accurate. The complexity of magic bonds remained a mystery to even the most skilled sorcerers and seiðrmen. Loki had never experienced it himself and had only heard a handful of stories from others.
But the facts, the feelings were undeniable – Loki's seiðr and Strange's magic had longed for one another, intermingling beautifully and pulling the men to each other like magnets. They slotted together, discovering that they fit perfectly. There was a thread between them, connecting them, and it carried profound implications. It influenced their actions, their very thoughts about and toward each other. Of course, Loki had been telling the truth when he told Strange that the magic didn't make them do anything they didn't want to do; rather, it made them aware of the fact that they wanted it, then gave them the shove they needed to act. It was a kind of magical proclamation – for all intents and purposes, Loki's seiðr had thwacked him in the side of the head and said, "This one's good; we should keep him." And based on the way his seiðr interacted with Strange's energy, it was obvious that the other man's magic had done the same thing. Loki knew that Strange felt it – saw it in his eyes that morning in the bedroom, and it looked like he was giving into it, accepting it. Whether that was willful or even something the mortal was aware of was yet to be seen. Loki, however, was choosing to reside in a state of denial for as long as he possibly could.
Thor led them to a door, where they halted. He opened the door, revealing a lounge. From the rear of their troupe, Rocket cleared his throat. Everyone turned to focus their attention on the rodent.
"So," Rocket said to Strange. "Who's the dame?"
"Sorry?" Strange queried innocently.
Rocket scoffed. "Oh please. You've got the stank of lust all over you." He waved a paw in front of his nose, then smiled slyly. "Again, I ask: Who's the chick?"
"There is no 'chick,' Rocket." Strange folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the creature. Rocket raised an eyebrow and tapped a foot on the floor, expectantly. The Sorcerer sighed. "Rocket. Listen to me very carefully: There is no girl."
Rocket watched him intently, processing the information. Then, he gave a half-smile and licked his lips. "Okay," the raccoon said slowly. "Who's the guy, then?"
Loki's eyes widened and he glanced toward the doctor. Strange let out a groan, attempting to appear annoyed. But he tugged nervously, unconsciously, at his collar. He opened his mouth, then closed it, likely trying to come up with some biting remark that would stop the conversation. The harder he tried, the more words seemed to evade him. And the longer he stayed silent, struggling to speak, Rocket's cocky smile grew wider.
"I'm not judgin' – you gotta do what feels right for you, ya know?" Rocket ticked off a list on his claws: "Guy, girl, android, alien life form, genetic mutation. . . whatever gets your motor runnin', right?" He jabbed Thor's calf with his elbow, looking up at his friend for support. "Back me up here, big guy!"
Despite the secondhand embarrassment that Loki should have been feeling, he couldn't help being amused at Strange's expense. Attempting to maintain a level of decorum, Loki put one arm across his chest and used it to prop up his other arm, holding his hand over his face to cover up his grin. Watching the Sorcerer's face flush was hilarious and even endearing. And the second that thought entered his mind, Loki's stomach start flip-flopping and he hated himself. Denial would be so much easier if not for his traitorous body. . .
With a lighthearted laugh, Thor patted Rocket on the head. "Rabbit, enough. Let the man have his privacy."
Rocket looked up at the god, unconvinced, but sighed. "Fine, fine." Then, he looked at Strange pointedly as he stuffed his paws in his pockets. "I gotta say, though: It's about damn time you got some, Doc."
"What?" The doctor managed to choke out.
Valkyrie slinked forward, bumping his hip with her own. "Yeah, I was starting to wonder about you, Wizard. Thought maybe you were some kind of eunuch or something."
Hardly, Loki thought. And with that, he lost it; he simply couldn't contain himself any longer and he snorted out a laugh. Literally, snorted – rather unattractively, by his own standards. He glanced down, avoiding the human's gaze. His fellow Asgardians also snickered, probably for different reasons, and even Strange played along with a pained chuckle.
"Okay, are we done speculating about my sex life now?" Strange asked, struggling not to appear irate.
Thor gave a hearty laugh as he slapped the Sorcerer Supreme on the shoulder. "All in jest, my friend!" Then, he leaned in and quietly added, "Although, if you do have any dirty details that you wanted to share, we could certainly do so over a pint later. . ."
At that, Loki was certain he threw up a little in his mouth, and he promptly started choking. Thor looked to the Trickster with concern. "Are you all right, Brother?"
"Huh?" Loki gasped. "Yes, I'm all right," he said, his voice somewhat hoarse. He waved a hand dismissively. "Don't concern yourself. I'm fine."
Thor shrugged and entered the lounge area. When Loki looked at Strange, he saw that the man had his face to the ground, but his gray eyes flicked up to meet Loki's gaze. Strange's cheeks were still tinted pink, but he offered a coy smile, which Loki returned with a small nod before turning away to hide the color that was blooming in his own cheeks. He had always enjoyed keeping secrets from his brother, but there was a newfound excitement about sharing a secret with someone else. Especially when that someone was a mortal who was actually interesting and attractive (in multiple ways), like Strange. But Loki pushed those thoughts aside, for they were too close to a path that led to things like emotions and vulnerability and honesty – precious commodities that Loki couldn't just give away.
Once in the lounge, Thor sighed. "Friends, I apologize," he announced. "I must speak to my brother alone."
"I'm not going anywhere," Valkyrie proclaimed. She leaned against the doorway.
"Brunnhilde." Thor's voice was stern. Grumbling, Valkyrie straightened up and stomped out into the hallway.
"You're kickin' me out, too?" Rocket asked, shocked. Thor nodded and stared him down. Finally, Rocket let out a growl and stalked to the door. He was mumbling under his breath as he left: "I have better things to do anyway – like finding out how much Flerken eggs sell for on the black market. . ."
When Thor turned to Strange, the doctor seemed all too eager to leave. He gave a curt nod and bowed out of the room without a word. Loki told himself that his heart didn't sink a little that Strange didn't even spare him a goodbye glance.
Thor gestured to the assortment of chairs in the room. "Shall we?"
This was the moment Loki had been dreading. He had absolutely no desire to talk about the details of what took place while he was presumed dead.
He had spent almost five months making his way back to Midgard. Then, another two months wandering across America, lying low in various cities and towns while he regained his strength. He mostly stayed in seedy motels and watched shitty – or, on rare occasions, not-so-shitty – Netflix. After a total of seven months, his seiðr had regenerated, which allowed his body to recover almost completely from the years of beatings, mutilation, and torment. The emotional and psychological wounds still remained, of course – and they would for some time, assuredly, but at least the physical proof was no longer evident.
Eight years as a captive.
Seven months since he had been released from the Chitauri prison.
And it had taken Loki that whole time to steel his nerves enough to return to the only notion of home he had ever known: Thor.
Of course, he knew that's where he would wind up eventually. It wasn't like Loki had any other options. In all honesty (though he'd never say this out loud), he even wanted to see Thor.
He'd just needed to work up the nerve to actually do it.
Loki knew his brother. It was no surprise that Thor had been glad to see him, glad to learn he's alive. Loki had anticipated Thor welcoming him and willingly giving him another chance – like he always did. There was the tiniest twinge of guilt about using Thor's kind heart to his advantage. One day, he was sure, he would push it too far. But not yet.
The Trickster had come back from the dead before, so of course that wasn't really a great feat. And their final days together – on Sakaar, and uniting against Hela – had mended the rift between them. All the centuries of bitterness, lies, and competition had melted away. When they finally stopped bringing out the worst in each other, they found that they each had strengths that benefitted the other. Despite what they'd been fooled into thinking by others, they both had worth and could be stronger together.
Yet, for all the progress they had made, it was their newly rekindled brotherhood that had kept Loki from reuniting with Thor sooner. Because he knew that they would wind up in the exact situation they were in right now. . . Thor would ask questions. The God of Thunder would expect answers about Loki's whereabouts. Just as the Avengers had asked him to explain himself, so, too, would Thor. Only, Thor wouldn't accept vague half-truths or platitudes. Nor would he understand Loki's desire - no, need - for privacy.
"Brother," Thor said, pulling Loki from his reverie. He sat down on a couch, leaning back. Loki finally noticed how tired and worn Asgard's golden son looked.
Keeping some distance from his brother, Loki settled onto the nook in the window, pulling a leg up and wrapping his arm around it as he rested his chin on his knee. "You're still wearing your hair short, I see."
Thor chuckled. "It grew and I wore it long for a while, when I got really—" He stopped, frowned, shook his head. Apparently, whatever he'd been about to say, he decided against it. "I decided to cut it again. Felt right." Thor shrugged, rubbing his hands anxiously on his thighs. After a moment, he spoke in a quiet voice: "I lost the lock you gave me."
Loki didn't like the sensitive turn of the conversation. He gulped awkwardly and decided to just do what was expected of him, maintaining the status quo with a teasing barb. "Your eyes are mismatched."
Now, Thor smiled at him. But it was an odd kind of smile – gentle and sad, full of anguish that spoke of a weight the Asgardian had been carrying. It made Loki's heart ache and he softened. Silently, he reached up and gathered a few strands of his hair. He ran his fingers through it and started braiding. "What have you seen these past years to leave you so haunted, Brother?"
"What do you mean?" Thor posited.
Loki licked his lips. If he was going to dive into a heart-to-heart, he might as well take control of the narrative. "Remember when we used to fight side-by-side on the battlefields, usually in Odin's name, for some godsforsaken cause that the Allfather had commissioned?"
Thor nodded. "Aye, I do. We were an unbeatable team in our younger years." He smiled fondly at the memory.
"We were fighting different evils," Loki told him with a sigh.
Thor looked at him quizzically. "Were we not in the same battles?"
Loki clicked his tongue. "The same battles, yes. But a different war." The blond appeared truly confused and Loki struggled to organize his thoughts into words. For he knew all too well that he was, and always would be, Thor's mirror-image. Regardless of their amity, they were destined to represent the duality of the universe. It was apparent even in their visages: Loki's pale skin to Thor's sun-kissed glow; the raven-haired fallen prince alongside the fair-haired would-be king; cunning and manipulative, to guileless and open; the darkness to the light.
Finally, Loki said: "All our lives, I bore the weight of the world. Usually, it was my own doing or even my own imagination. But when it was real, it was, I think, so that you would not have to." Loki let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "Perhaps that was the one thing I did that you could not. The one thing I did right by you."
"Loki—"
The Trickster held up a hand. "Please." He looked into his brother's dual-toned eyes with a heavy heart. "You always amazed me, Thor. Did you know that? I think that's why I hated you. No matter how much war or death or destruction we saw; even when you experienced loss or, further still, when you had been the perpetrator of violence upon others – you still hoped." The last word caught in Loki's throat, rubbed it raw.
"You never saw the utter cruelty of it all, the underbelly of existence." Loki reached the end of the braid and tied it off. He conjured a bead to secure the end of it. Then, using his seiðr, he dashed a fingernail at the top, cutting the braided lock from his scalp. He held it in his hands as he looked out the window. "I thank the Norns that you have not suffered as I have, Thor." He turned to meet his brother's gaze again. "You were given a tremendous gift, the kind that gives to others as well as yourself."
"And what, pray tell, might that be?" Thor questioned as he sank back into the couch.
Loki smiled – one of his rare genuine ones. "You believe in goodness, Thor. You are good." He exhaled softly, looking down. "You still think there's goodness to be had, out there," Loki jerked his head toward the window, to the world outside.
"Is there not goodness, Loki?" Thor asked, standing and crossing the room. He stopped next to the window seat. "Are there no good beings? No promise of a better, brighter tomorrow?"
Loki chuckled dimly and looked down. "Perhaps, Brother." Then, he looked back up, locking eyes with the Thunderer. "And whether there is or isn't, you believe in it. And because you believe it – Norns help me, there are times when I think you might actually be able to create such a world."
Thor sighed heavily and sat in the window seat, at Loki's feet. He put a hand on his brother's knee. "There's nothing wrong with having hope, Loki."
Loki's lip quirked up at the corner and he gave his brother a look of rebuke. "Hope is a most dangerous thing. A weapon, even, in the hands of those who know how to wield it."
"What could be wrong about hoping?" Thor asked, shaking his head.
As a good Socratic orator, Loki responded with another question: "When you find yourself at the bottom of the deepest, darkest hole, with no way out, is it better to accept your fate or to further torment yourself by clinging to the hope of a miracle is unlikely to ever come?"
"Unlikely, but not impossible," Thor noted.
Loki stretched out his hand, the braided lock lying flat on his palm. Thor smiled and took it from him, clutching it in his fist. With a sigh, Loki pulled his other leg up onto the seat and wrapped his arms around both legs, making his body small. "If someone wants to harm you, he need only dangle hope in front of you. It makes you weak, vulnerable. It shows your weaknesses, makes you willing to give into things you wouldn't otherwise deign to do."
Thor looked down at the braid of hair thoughtfully, twirling it between his fingers. "I believed you were dead this whole time," Thor said. The abrupt veer in conversation jarred Loki for a moment. But he didn't exactly know what to say and was curious to see where the God of Thunder was going with this train of thought.
Thor squeezed Loki's knee. "I thought you were dead, because I knew what I had seen," he repeated. "But I can't say that I truly believed it, because I knew that I didn't want it to be true." Surely, he must have known that Loki had caught onto the moral of his little parable by now, but the blond verbalized it anyway. "I had hope, Loki. Hope that you were still out there, that we would find our way back to each other."
Loki pretended to gag, rotating so he was sitting with his back to the window and his feet were planted on the floor. "Oh, do shut up," he chastised. "Keep saying rot like that and the rumor that we're lovers will start up again."
There was a pause. Then they both laughed. Somewhat nervously at first, but then it grew into real, full, belly laughter, leaving them breathless. Thor leaned his head back against the window and looked up at the ceiling. "Oh, that made for some uncomfortable glances and whispers. And the more we tried to explain it, the less others believed us!"
"Especially considering we always shared a tent on hunts and in battles," Loki reminded him, making his brother crack up again.
Thor wiped his eyes, which were tearing up from laughing so hard. "And then, just when all of Asgard stopped thinking I slept with my brother," he managed to say through his chuckles, "you decided to torment me by spending the next century as my sister!"
Loki threw his head back and all but cackled. "You should have seen your face when I approached you for the first time in that pub. . ." Loki's eyes twinkled with remembrance.
"And shamelessly flirted with me!" Thor accused.
Loki merely raised an eyebrow. "I just wanted to watch you squirm. And if I recall, you didn't seem to mind it," he said, making his brother sputter.
"I'll have you know," Thor said, just as defensively as he had hundreds of years ago. "I was very drunk that night. And had never actually seen your female form before that."
"But oh, how you liked what you saw." Loki wiggled his shoulders and flipped his hair.
"That was certainly my least favorite of your tricks," Thor told him with a scowl.
Looking at Thor from a profile view, Loki leaned forward slightly. He tilted his chin into his shoulder and struck a seductive pose. "It's not my fault I'm devastatingly beautiful, Brother."
Thor reached forward and punched Loki's shoulder playfully. "You are not. Lady Loki is."
Waving his hand dismissively, Loki said, "We're one in the same, you know."
His brother only rolled his eyes and leaned back with a sigh. After a good minute or so, Thor hesitantly broke the comfortable silence. "How did you survive?" His eyes – one his own blue as the sky, the other goldenrod like Heimdall's – flicked up to meet Loki's gaze. "I watched you die, Loki. And it wasn't like the other times. I could. . ." he gulped. "I could feel that life had left you. I knew it was real. Or at least I thought I did." His voice wavered with doubt.
Loki tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "You were right. It was real – I was actually dead," he confessed.
Thor furrowed his sandy brows. "So how did you—"
"Thanos," Loki hated that he still felt himself choke on the name, "killed me." Unconsciously, Loki brought a hand up to his neck. The imprints and bruises from the Mad Titan's massive hand had long since faded, of course; yet, somehow, Loki could still feel those fingers around his throat, squeezing and tightening and crushing his windpipe, leaving him gasping for breath until everything went black and was just. . . gone.
"I can still see you," Thor whispered hauntingly. "Lying there on the floor of the ship."
Loki swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath – then, he exhaled and inhaled again, simply because he could, because he had air in his lungs and that was something he had taken for granted in the past. "When you and the others had left, Thanos and his Dark Order came back to pillage through the remains. They took anything they could get their hands on, anything they thought might be useful."
"Including you," Thor finished. To which Loki merely nodded.
"I awoke in a holding area aboard Thanos's ship. He was there – he already had several Infinity Stones at his disposal. Using them to resurrect me was child's play." Loki closed his eyes, remembering the dark and dank place where he woke up, still gasping and trying to breathe, with Thanos watching him through bars – wearing that sinister smile.
"Why did he kill you, just to bring you back?" Thor asked, frowning.
Loki paused, taking in a deep breath. "After I fell from the Bifröst, when I finally reached the bottom of the Void, Thanos was there. And from that moment, I was merely his pawn."
Thor frowned at him. "We all know—I know, that you were not acting of your own volition. That it was only your strength that allowed you to resist the Mad Titan even a little bit." Thor scratched his head absently. "No one really blames you, anymore."
"I know," Loki smiled sadly and closed his eyes. "But Thanos did. I had betrayed him, humiliated him." Loki focused his attention back on Thor, trying to keep his mind out of that dark prison. "I needed to pay for my treason and my transgressions." Loki locked eyes with his brother, his expression stony. "He wanted to make an example of me."
There was a part of Loki that thought maybe Thor would leave it at that. But, of course, that wasn't the case. Thor steeled himself as he asked, "What happened, Loki? What's been happening to you, all this time?"
Instantly, Loki shook his head. He bit his lip so hard, he thought it might bleed, still shaking his head with fervor. "I cannot, Thor. There are. . . no words, in any language—even for a tongue so skilled as mine—that can truly describe what they did. What I felt. How I still feel."
"They?" Thor queried.
Loki had to laugh. "Assuredly, you didn't think Thanos would be my personal jailer?" Despite his best efforts, rage bubbled up inside of Loki. It started to seep out. "Oh, he participated when he could. But ultimately, he had far more pressing matters than dealing with the insolence of a traitorous failure of a Frost Giant. No, my punishment was left to the capable hands of the Chitauri – and they are at the top of the line when it comes to torture."
Thor cringed at that final word. Loki pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps forward before spinning around to face his brother. He gestured toward him with an open hand. "You can't even bear the thought of me being tortured, to hear me say the word. Do you honestly think you've got the stomach for all the gritty and gory details?" Loki paused and Thor almost looked like he was going to speak. But he hesitated and Loki took the opportunity to illustrate his meaning.
"Do you really want me to recount the ways in which the Chitauri made me suffer? How they sated their innate curiosity by conducting experiments? They leapt at every opportunity to determine what would happen to me and how long I would bleed if they chopped off this limb," he raised a hand, "or if they ripped out that organ," he pointed in the general area of his kidneys.
A mirthless laugh escaped Loki's throat. "Do you know how long I can remain submerged underwater before my lungs fill and burst, Thor? Because the Chitauri do," he finished darkly.
Thor stared at him, a series of emotions racing across his face. Loki was panting and his face felt hot. He looked down and saw that his hands were shaking, wisps of green seiðr swirling at his fingertips. He wrapped his arms tightly around his body, trying to steady them as much as to conceal them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. When he looked at Thor again, it was with a much cooler head. For some reason, that seemed to concern his brother.
Thor looked down at the ground, shaking his head disconcertedly. "You're different," he said in a quiet voice.
"Different how?" Loki asked, curious.
"Not so quick to anger. So. . . volatile."
Loki frowned. "Is that not a good thing?"
It seemed as though Thor was actually uncertain, mulling that over and trying to decide. Finally, he sighed and stood, stepping into Loki's space as he put a hand on his shoulder. "If you have found peace then I am glad." He offered a sad little smile. "But I would hate to think that you had lost your spark. That you had—" Thor paused, hesitantly. At Loki's raised eyebrow, he continued: "That your spirit had been broken."
Instantly, Loki's temper flared back up – albeit, more irritated now than genuinely angry. "What am I, some prized stallion?" He took a few paces back, trying to gain some upper ground. "You have known me for how many centuries and yet you think me so easily broken?" He spat the word back at his brother.
Thor's eyes widened. Then he slowly started to smile. He reached forward, grabbing Loki by the front of his tunic and pulling him towards him, wrapping him in a firm hug. "There's the Mischief Maker I've always known!" He forced joviality into his voice, very clearly trying to lighten the mood.
"Stop it," Loki growled into Thor's chest. Without waiting for a response, the Trickster vanished himself out of his brother's grasp, reappearing on the other side of the room - making sure to put plenty of furniture between himself and his very handsy brother. He glared at the blond, although he couldn't deny the swell of affection and appreciation that he felt. The best way to show it, he decided, was to return to their status quo. He flicked a dismissive hand toward his brother and told him, "I should stab you. On principle, of course."
Thor put his hands on his hips and gave Loki a stern but playful look. "That hardly seems like something the new, reformed, good Loki ought to do."
Loki groaned and stomped his foot. "Being good is so boring. It's exhausting." He leaned his palms on the back of the sofa. "I don't know how you do it. Or why."
"It's not as lonely," Thor said plainly. He was still smiling, but there was a somber truth to his words.
Loki scrunched up his nose, feigning disgust. But he made sure to catch Thor's gaze and offer a tight nod, so he'd know that he'd been teasing and his reformation really wasn't an act.
"About what happened to you. . ." Thor started slowly.
Loki held a hand up. "No." He shook his head fiercely. "It is not worth talking about any further."
His brother furrowed his brows and was silent a moment. Finally, he shrugged in defeat and straightened up. "If you change your mind—"
"I won't."
"But if you do," Thor said firmly. He didn't say anything more. They both knew what he was offering.
"All right," Loki told him softly. It was more of a placeholder than anything. The conversation had ended. They'd both said all they needed, and were willing, to say. So, they just stood in silence until Loki cleared his throat. "Have we waited long enough?"
Thor cocked his head to the side. Loki sighed. "How long is customary to wait in awkward silence before we can leave and pretend nothing happened?"
"Ah." Thor brushed his hands together in the air, as if dusting them off – an act of finality. "I believe it's lunchtime." He grinned and headed for the door.
Loki raised an eyebrow. When Thor only looked at him questioningly, he elaborated. "You do know that your clothes are ridiculous?"
Thor rolled his eyes. Before he could say anything else, Loki snickered. "Look at that – when you roll your eyes, the golden one moves slower than the blue one."
His brother gaped at him, looking truly offended. "Does not!"
"Mm," Loki hummed. With a smile, a shimmer of gold covered him and in the next instant he vanished, reappearing at Thor's side and straightening out his new outfit. He was wearing black, fitted jeans and a long-sleeved, emerald green shirt. Thor looked him up and down, giving a nod of approval before he chuckled and started for the door.
Suddenly Thor stopped with a soft gasp, looking to his brother as he said, "I'll have to introduce you to Stormbreaker." Loki raised his dark eyebrows and Thor's smile grew wider. "She's my new axe."
"She? Your. . . axe?" Loki curled his lip incredulously. In response, Thor merely led them out of the room and down the hallway. Loki knew he was out of his league, as he was about to be in the company of more Avengers than he'd ever been around before. So he mustered up as much confidence as he could, hoping that would be enough – he was a master of illusions, after all.
*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*
As they descended the ramp of the Wakandan ship, Shuri suddenly stopped and let out a soft groan. T'Challa and Okoye both turned to look back – her brother with slightly amused curiosity, and the warrior with intensity showing that she was ready to defend the Princess if needed. Shuri smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she said. "I forgot, I brought some scrap metal and a few other things for Morgan."
Okoye furrowed her brows. "So? We will be here for several days."
"Yes, I know." Shuri gestured vaguely toward one of the outer buildings. "But it would be best to unload things now, when I can drop them off in the garages for her."
Okoye inhaled, then exhaled sharply, looking like she wanted to protest. But T'Challa laughed softly, waving his hand. "Go on, then," he said. "But come find us the moment you are done."
"Of course!" She beamed back at him before turning and running up the ramp. Once she was back inside the aircraft, Shuri made her way over to a window and peeked out, watching her brother and their advisor until they were inside the front doors of the Compound. She saw them being greeted by a few of the Avengers – Colonel Rhodes and Dr. Banner, from what she could tell, although it looked like there was a third person that she couldn't quite make out. In any case, once Suri was certain that they were properly distracted, she breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the cargo hold.
Luckily, they were traveling light, so the hold was not as cramped as it could have been. Shuri quickly found the long, large box – which had originally stored some missiles – that she had managed to fit everything inside. It was a rather crude rigging, but it was all she could come up with on short notice and without arousing suspicion. She pulled a wheeled cart over and attached a couple straps to hoist the box onto the cart. Then she returned to the passenger compartment of the ship, collecting her laptop and carry-on bag.
Shuri speed-walked back to the cargo area, tossing her computer and bag on top of the box with a loud thud. She winced and mumbled, "Oops," out of common decency. Shuri pushed the cart forward, stopping only to reach her hand up and slap the button on the wall, opening the bay doors of the hold. She had to brace herself as she pushed the cart down the steep incline of the ramp, off the aircraft and onto the pavement. With a confident smile, she exhaled and then took off across the empty lot, steering the cart along the external buildings.
It was a long haul to the small shack at the edge of the Compound. When Shuri finally made it, she was glistening – because Princesses do not sweat – and panting. With one final grunt of exertion, Shuri managed to get the cart around the side of the hut, stopping at the small staircase that led to the fortified cellar that was Morgan Stark's 'secret' lab. It wasn't really that secret, considering several people knew where it was. Shuri even knew how to get in and was pretty sure others did too – since Morgan uses the same pass-code for everything (and it's not like it's difficult to guess, anyway).
She'd brought this up to the girl on multiple occasions, but it always fell on deaf ears. Shuri knew the same thing Morgan herself knew: That Morgan was brilliant, so if anyone knew where the girl's lab was, it's because she allowed them to know. And even if someone did manage to get in by figuring out that the access code is just 3-0-0-0, Morgan had likely taken the necessary precautions to safeguard data so getting into the lab wouldn't actually result in anything.
Shuri smiled to herself, never ceasing to be amazed at how impressive the girl's mind was. Eerily so at times, in fact. With that, Shuri punched in the four digit code and bounced the cart down the steps, grimacing as she did.
Once the items were secured inside the lab and Shuri saw that Morgan was not present, she headed back out, sealing the door behind her. Straightening out her shirt and brushing some stray braids to the side, Shuri put her shoulders back and marched back toward the main building to catch up to T'Challa and Okoye. As she walked, she focused on pushing aside her giddiness about when she would return to the lab with Morgan later – she didn't like the idea of getting her hopes up, but she had checked the data Morgan sent her at least five times and came to the same conclusion. For now, she was choosing to be cautiously optimistic and would address everything in more detail with the little engineer after lunch.
*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*
The lunch room/cafeteria/mess hall/what-have-you was abuzz with conversation. It reminded Loki of a far less formal version of one of the great halls in Asgard, clearly crafted with the intention of housing many people and offering various seating arrangements. There were several tables – a few large round ones, a handful that were smaller and square-shaped, and a couple long tables that were especially reminiscent of those used for feasting.
Loki sat down on the bench-seat with Thor and Valkyrie across from him. It wasn't long before they were joined by others. Bruce sat next to Thor and was quickly engulfed in a tight hug. Sergeant Barnes surprised Loki by sitting down right beside him with a smile. Rocket and Groot made their way over, along with a man who introduced himself as Star-Lord – only to have Thor correct him with his given name of Peter Quill. Loki learned that Thor had spent a fair amount of time in recent years traveling through space with Quill and his rag-tag group.
"I traveled with the Guardians, partaking in several adventures," Thor had explained.
"On my ship, where I was the captain," Quill hurriedly proclaimed.
"It was a joint effort," Thor offered, patronizingly.
Quill scrunched up his nose. "Ehhhhh," he squeaked. "If by 'joint,' you mean that I was in charge and made the important decisions, which the rest of you carried out, then yeah."
That, of course, led to Thor and Quill arguing at length about which of them had actually been in charge during their time aboard the Benatar.
"I am Groot," ("I have to wonder,") Groot started, drawing Loki's attention to him. "I am Groot?" ("Which one was in charge when they both got locked in an escape pod for three hours?")
That caused Rocket to roll on the table in hysterics, and Loki shot his brother an amused smirk. Thor, having to defend his own honor, quickly tried to justify the situation Groot had referenced.
Once Quill caught onto what they were talking about, he pointed at Groot accusingly. "You were sworn to silence!"
Thus, the whole group took to regaling Loki with stories of their hijinks and misadventures while traveling the galaxy. It was an unexpectedly pleasant and peaceful time – so much so that Loki eventually stopped trying to contain his laughter, and even joined Barnes in making teasing commentary about Thor, the Guardians, and the Revengers.
Everything seemed to oddly fall into place. It was far more comfortable than Loki could have ever imagined feeling around any group of people, let alone in the presence of the Avengers. He had seen Thor act in such a way most his life, laughing and socializing freely with almost anyone, especially with Sif and the Warriors Three. Loki had been present at some of those moments, but usually only as a spectator. He'd never been invited inside the moments and had never expected that he would be. Yet now he found himself almost at the center of everything – with everyone gathered around him at the large table, making sure he was privy to their stories and jokes. He was even encouraged to share his own stories of some of the better pranks he'd played on Thor or times of the two of them in their youth, whether it was a hunting expedition or games they played, other realms they'd visited, or, of course, times they got into trouble (usually Thor's fault, although Loki was always the one blamed).
Bruce specifically asked for Loki's version of the snake shapeshifting story that Thor had told him on Sakaar.
Valkyrie teased him about their tussle on the trash planet, which she of course felt was completely legitimate. Loki was forced to challenge Val to a rematch, saying they can spar anytime, anyplace. She promised to take him up on that in the near future.
Somehow, Loki was actually part of a perfectly domestic, friendly situation. And he was enjoying himself. As their group grew larger and the laughter grew louder – drowned out only by the obnoxious music that Quill demanded FRIDAY turn on over the loudspeakers – Loki, at some indeterminant point, stopped being surprised by the novelty of it all and just gave in.
Loki had lost track of time, but it had to have been almost half an hour or more when Morgan skipped over. She all but threw herself onto the bench next to the Trickster, sliding close and tucking herself under his arm. "Hi," she crooned, beaming up at him.
"Tiny Tin One," Loki greeted.
She distanced herself from him only to slide the pack off her back – she carefully set it on the floor between her feet, but its contents still rattled and clanged. The girl sighed, obviously relieved to be free of the bag's weight. Loki understood why she had been so fascinated by his use of the pocket dimension, when she was carrying so much around.
"Got anything interesting in there?" Rocket asked the girl, dipping his head in reference to her bag.
She gave him an odd look, almost seeming proud of herself but self-conscious at the same time. She glanced around to see who was listening. Loki purposely averted his eyes, feigning ignorance. Finally, locking eyes with the raccoon, Morgan nodded.
Rocket leaned forward and in a low voice, which Loki only heard because of his inhumanly keen hearing, told her, "Come by the hostel later and we'll take a look."
Morgan gave a singular nod before swiping her hair out of her eyes and turning her attention to some elaborate joke Thor was telling.
Yes, Loki was certain that this small human was definitely the most intriguing. So when she scooted close to him again, giggling at whatever ridiculousness Thor was spouting, Loki didn't even consider denying the warmth he felt. Without really realizing it, he wrapped his arm around Morgan's shoulders and she happily leaned in against him. The laughter around the table died down as the conversation lulled, and Loki turned his attention to another tug of warmth. It took only a second to register the source, confirmed by a fluttering sound and the feel of fabric draped around him.
"Well, hello, again," Loki cooed to the Cloak clinging to his shoulders.
"I'm starting to take this personally," Strange's voice called. Loki glanced up and watched the man approach from behind Thor. Strange folded his arms over his chest, looking put out. Had Loki been the sentimental type, he might have thought that it was really quite adorable.
"It's not my fault that I'm irresistible." Loki locked eyes with the handsome wizard but quickly looked away when he felt heat at the back of his neck. He hoped the flirtatious tone of his voice had gone unnoticed.
Everyone else carried on their conversations and Strange sat down next to Valkyrie – which, Loki realized, was farther away than he would have liked. The Cloak must have felt the same way because it lifted off Loki's shoulders and whizzed across the table to its master, slapping Thor in the face as it did (gently, but still). Thor gasped and glared down the table, making Loki laugh. "I'm liking that Cloak more and more," he admitted.
Suddenly, Quill's music cut out – earning a disappointed groan from the man – and everyone's attention turned to the head of their long table. It was only then that Loki realized how the table had filled out. There was himself and Morgan at one end, ensconced by the Guardians, Bruce, Thor, Val, Barnes, and Strange. The rest of the table was comprised of Wong across from his friend, followed by the young Arachnid, Ant-Man's daughter, another girl that Loki hadn't met yet, The Wasp with an older couple, and a trio of regal-looking individuals with dark skin. Colonel Rhodes was just past them with a young man with floppy brown hair at his side, sitting across from Director Fury and Maria Hill, who must have recently arrived.
Standing at the head of the table was the Lady Pepper, with Wilson at her side. "Okay, everybody! Attention, please!" Pepper clapped her hands, ceasing any remaining conversation and ensuring everyone was looking at her.
"I know that we're still waiting on some people, and we also have a team that's out right now," Pepper began. "But this is our first semi-official lunch together for this year, so I just wanted to make a small 'welcome' speech." She'd had plenty of experience in front of crowds in a corporate setting, but her tone was clearly more relaxed to suit the audience. "I want to thank you all for being here. I know that this reunion is important to everybody, but it's especially meaningful to me," Pepper paused. With a hard swallow, she continued, "Of course, this time is about being together, as family and friends. But it's also a time to remember."
There was another, longer pause as Pepper let her words settle in, the meaning heavy in the air. After a few seconds, the woman carried on. "As I said, we're still waiting for some people to get here. And we know that there are several people who won't be here. People we'll never stop waiting for, not really. . ." her voice trailed off for a moment as she glanced down. Loki watched her fiddle with the ring on her left hand. Since he still had his arm loosely around Morgan, Loki gave her a shoulder a light squeeze, almost unconsciously. Pepper cleared her throat and looked back up to the group. "I just want to thank you all for being here, year after year. Not only to share in what we've lost, but to remember all that we still have. And," she added brightly, "this year, we have something special to celebrate. This year, we're lucky enough to have gained something."
Pepper smiled and tilted her head, looking down the line of people. "Loki?" the strawberry-blonde called, making the mage snap his head in her direction. Her smile hadn't faded – in fact, it looked like it grew wider when the two locked eyes. "We're happy to have you back," she told him with meaning. "And I think I speak for everyone—" Pepper gestured around the cafeteria, but made a point to look toward Fury and Barton, "—when I say that I hope you will make yourself at home here."
Thor and Bruce gave a round of applause, as Valkyrie and Morgan both let out whoops and cheers. Loki jumped slightly when Barnes clapped his hands around Loki's shoulders and squeezed.
"Okay, guys!" Sam called, breaking up the small reveling. "Now, with all that said, it's time for lunch!" That caused the entire crowd to cheer and applaud. When they quieted down again, Sam held up a hand and said, "Sorry it's nothing too fancy. Just a few hero sandwiches." He threw in an exaggerated wink as he spoke. But he only earned a few boos and hisses, with Barnes standing up and jeering at the man's awful pun.
"Jeez, rough crowd!" Sam shouted, waving a dismissive arm toward the group. Everyone laughed – even Loki allowed himself to chuckle – and then the room was full of life again as everyone stood up to begin gathering their lunch.
Morgan jumped to her feet. "Don't move – I'll be right back!" Before Loki could respond, the girl had darted away. So the mage sat down and waited.
He glanced across the room, where Strange and Wong were talking to the trio that Loki figured must be some kind of royalty or, at the very least, dignitaries. The young girl of the group said something that made Strange laugh, and the sound carried all the way to where Loki was sitting. Oddly, he thought he felt something like jealousy bubble up at the thought of the Sorcerer being amused by someone else – but, of course, that couldn't be true because that would mean Loki felt something for the man (which he definitely didn't). When the small group broke up, Loki subtly tracked the Sorcerer's movements as the man gathered his food and made his way back to the other end of the table with Wong. Strange had changed into casual clothes – aside from the Cloak of Levitation, he no longer donned his usual "Master of the Mystic Arts" attire, but instead was wearing a pair of loose slacks and a shirt reminiscent of a hospital smock (or, as Loki had learned from American TV, "scrubs"). Loki couldn't help wondering if Strange had indeed saved his clothing from his time as a surgeon and still wore them. It was understandable, if so, and for some reason, it almost seemed. . . appealing to imagine the mortal in a hospital and how, before he knew that magic even existed, Strange wielded the power to save someone's life with his bare hands. Hands which were now scarred and battered, unusable in such a capacity. Loki frowned at the thought and looked away – only to find Rocket staring at him. They watched each other for a minute but nobody spoke. Clearing his throat, Loki rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, never breaking from the raccoon's gaze. Finally, Rocket looked down with a "huh" and, before Loki could challenge him or offer any kind of protestations to whatever conclusion the creature had jumped to, Morgan had returned and was already chattering away.
Once everyone else had returned to their seats with their plates, the conversation started up again – along with Quill's music. They talked about anything and everything, and nothing at all, and it was really quite glorious. Morgan huddled close to Loki and kept announcing to FRIDAY about another thing to add to her "list."
"What's this list?" Quill finally asked the girl as he drummed his fingers on the table in time with the song that was blaring.
"Recommendations of things for Uncle Loki to see, do, try, watch, or visit," Morgan answered. The group quickly returned to their discussion and joking, but Loki found himself staring at the small human. He was oddly and profoundly touched – not just by the fact that she was bothering to make such a list for him, but he had also noticed the way she had referred to him. 'Uncle Loki' – it was the same kind of title he'd heard her apply to several others in the Compound. And she did it with such ease, without thinking about it, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Just then, Thor took a too-big bite of his sandwich, only to have Valkyrie nudge him with her elbow. "Slow down, Majesty. You've only recently got your figure back – I'd hate to see you lose it so quickly after all our hard work."
Thor's eyes widened and he gulped down the food. He worriedly glanced over at Loki, who gave him a puzzled look. That quickly grew into a devilish smirk that widened by the second. "What's this, Brother?" Loki asked, a devious glint in his eyes.
"Uh-oh," Val mumbled. "You mean, Lackey doesn't know about—"
"No, Brunnhilde," Thor interrupted, shooting a glare at the warrior.
Val looked at Thor sheepishly. "Oops?" She tried to look apologetic. Thor shoved his plate away, with his sandwich only half-eaten and leaned back in resignation, folding his arms across his chest and staring into nothingness with a scowl plastered on his face. Trying to escape the situation, Valkyrie jumped up and looked pointedly at the Winter Soldier. "Oy, Barnes."
"Yes?" The man looked up at her expectantly through a curtain of hair that swooped in his eyes.
"I'm gonna go workout. Care to join me?" The Valkyrie suggested. Barnes shrugged, then nodded. He scarfed down his last bite of sandwich and stood, grabbing both his and Val's plates and taking them to the trash. Valkyrie muttered a rushed goodbye as she stood before making her way over to Barnes. The two disappeared and Loki looked back to see Thor still scowling.
As soon as the Trickster opened his mouth, the Thunderer pointed a finger at him. "Not. A. Word," he snarled. Loki shook his head, chuckling softly. Bruce, apparently completely amused, burst into laughter, patting Thor on the shoulder. Soon, they were all laughing – even Thor smiled and rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be the butt of the joke.
The rest of the lunch passed as pleasantly as the time before it and Loki, in no hurry to rush it, melted into the moment.
*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*
The ride on the Quinjet was quiet. Granted, no one really knew what to say. They were heading into a situation where no one knew what to expect. They had dealt with a few vigilante, super-powered types in the past – many of them turning out to be of the mutant variety and being shipped off to a school run by a mind-reading guy in a wheelchair, who was actually quite persistent in his requests for them to partner up with him. The Avengers always politely declined a formal arrangement, but they (or at least Carol) suspected it was only a matter of time before they joined forces.
Carol had long-since put the jet on auto-pilot, turning her chair to face her crew. "So, FRIDAY, any idea what we're walking into here?"
"I'm afraid I have very little data, Captain Danvers," FRIDAY lamented. "I can say that the suspect is still in the same location, and although he appears to be armed with repulsors, he has not shown any inclination of using them."
Carol crossed her legs, swinging a foot back and forth in the air. "How did we actually find him?"
"Sam said cameras picked him up," Scott answered. At Carol's 'no duh' look, he elaborated: "Um, multiple cameras caught him just walking around the city, before he finally ducked into a mall."
"Where he's just been sitting, doing nothing? For hours?" Carol asked incredulously.
Scott nodded. Then he frowned. "That's kinda weird. Isn't it?"
"Uh, ch'yeah," the blonde replied.
Wanda furrowed her brows. "It's almost like. . ."
"He wanted to be found," Nebula finished. The Lumphomoid was standing at the back of the jet, tucking a phaser-gun into her holster.
"You think this will turn ugly on us?" Carol asked, nodding toward the weapon. Nebula simply shrugged, tugging her jacket together and zipping it up.
"ETA, less than one minute," FRIDAY announced. Carol flipped a switch, releasing the landing gear. They had already changed into their respective suits and armors, so all they had to do when the jet landed on the roof of the three-story mall was step off.
All four quickly secured ear-pieces so they'd be able to communicate. Then, Carol asked, "FRIDAY, where exactly is this guy?"
"The target is near the fountain, in the center of the mall."
"Of course he'd be right in the middle of a bunch of civilians," Carol muttered, mostly to herself. Then, she replayed FRIDAY's words and frowned. "Wait. He's still just sitting there, out in the open?" Carol asked dubiously.
"Um," Scott piped up, chuckling nervously. "Pretty sure this is the part where Admiral Ackbar runs in and yells 'it's a trap!'" He waved his hands frantically, doing his best impersonation of the squid. If it hadn't been such a dire situation, Carol would've laughed – mostly because she actually got that reference.
Nebula looked at Scott with narrowed eyes, clearly not amused. But she gave him a terse nod. "We were right. He's waiting for us."
"I agree," Wanda stated. She ran her hand through her hair and sighed.
Carol looked at each of them in turn before letting out a sigh of her own. "Yup, definitely feels trappy," she concurred. Then, she threw her hands up and said, "Let's go – teams of two."
She turned to head for the door leading to the stairwell into the building, but was stopped by Scott. "Whoa, uh, guys?" The man hurried forward, standing in front of Carol, holding his hands in a time-out gesture.
"What?" Carol asked, putting her hands on her hips.
"What do you mean,' what?'" Scott scoffed. "If it looks like a trap and walks like a trap, chances are – it's a damn trap!"
"Probably. So?" Nebula asked with a scowl.
Scott let out a disbelieving laugh. "Call me crazy but when everyone agrees that something is a trap, that's usually a ginormous, flashing neon sign that reads, 'turn around and go the hell home.' Or at least come up with a better strategy or, like, calling for backup!" He raised his arms, clasping his hands behind his head with his elbows out, with a look of exasperation.
The assassin stepped up so she was toe-to-toe with the ex-con. "We were sent on this mission. Not someone else – us. We're not leaving until either it's complete or—"
"Please don't say 'we die trying,'" Scott interrupted, pleading.
The Luphomoid glared at him. "—or," she repeated, drawing the word out for emphasis, "we have no choice but to leave."
"She's right," Wanda insisted. "We're already here. We have to give it a try."
"C'mon, Scotty," Carol said, patting the man on the shoulder. "It's one person, and there's four of us. How hard can it be?"
Scott rolled his eyes. "Famous last words," he deadpanned.
The three women started across the roof. Scott hung back, still hesitant. Finally, he groaned and ran to catch up with them as they opened the door and descended the metal stairs.
"Oh, my, Grandmother," Scott muttered in a high-pitched voice, "What big, shiny teeth you have." Then, in a low growl, he added, "The better to eat you with, my dear." Back in the high-pitched voice, he let out a fake giggle and said, "Oh, okay!"
"Lang, shut up!" Carol snapped.
The trip down the remaining flights of stairs was silent except their footfalls. When they finally reached the bottom, Carol opened the door to reveal the shopping center. It was surprisingly busy, despite being mid-afternoon on a weekday.
"The fountain is to your right, approximately 500 feet," FRIDAY announced over their comms. "The target is seated at a table right beside the fountain, wearing a black overcoat."
Carol leaned her head out of the stairwell and immediately spotted the person they were looking for. The hood of his jacket was pulled up and although it had slid back slightly, Carol still couldn't quite make out the guy's face or any other features.
"So do we have a plan?" Scott asked quietly, still tense.
"Is there a sign of Stark's technology?" Nebula's question was directed to FRIDAY.
"There's a faint energy signature matching that of an arc reactor, but it appears to be only residual. Nothing is currently activated."
Wanda shrugged. "Well, that might be good?" she offered.
"Yeah," Carol had to agree. "If he is waiting for us, at least he's not sitting there with guns blazin'."
"You do know that someone who asks questions first and shoots later, still shoots?" Scott protested.
Carol bit her lip and turned back to her teammates. "It's better for everyone if this guy's a friendly, right?" She didn't wait for a response before adding, "Plus, whatever happens, I'd rather steer any action away from all these shoppers."
"What might you be thinking?" Wanda asked, concern creeping into her voice.
"I'm gonna talk to him," Carol replied as nonchalant as she could. When Scott and Wanda both opened their mouths to argue, the Captain simply held up a hand. "I'll just feel it out. Even if he's on the up-and-up, he still might spook if he feels ambushed."
"Spook?" Scott asked incredulously. "We're not talking about a horse or cornered animal. This is a person – an unknown, mysterious, potentially dangerous, armed person," the man reminded her.
"Chill," Carol told him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not exactly helpless, you know."
Wanda frowned and shook her head. "I don't like this, either."
"I'll be fine," Carol insisted. "Besides, you'll all be nearby and can charge in to save the day if necessary." She threw in a wink for a good measure.
Nebula, who had been (characteristically) silent the whole time, stepped forward. "I'll cover you." And the way she said it let Carol know instantly that it was not an offer or request – it was a statement of fact that she would be shadowing the vet, which was actually quite comforting. So Carol nodded and looked to the other two, smiling tightly when they both sighed and nodded in agreement.
Then, Carol and Nebula stepped out of the stairwell, with Scott and Wanda following a few paces behind them. Carol headed straight for their target. Halfway there, Nebula veered off to the side, disappearing in the crowd of people. Glancing behind her, Carol saw that Scott and Wanda had vanished, too. But she was comforted by the fact that they were all available by their comms and she knew that even if she couldn't see them, they were carefully watching her.
The fountain was in the center of the mall, which was also where the food court was located. It was late afternoon, meaning it was between meals and the people milling about were mostly passing by the area rather than loitering around in it. There were several tables, some of them with people seated at them. And there were some kids throwing pennies in the fountain. The guy Carol was heading for was sitting at a small table right next to the fountain. He had been looking at the water but when Carol was about 50 feet away, his head snapped in her direction and he locked eyes with her.
Carol came to a halt, thrown by the sudden attention from her target. Now that she was closer, she could finally see him without his hood or people in the way. He was a nice-enough looking guy with short, sort-of spiky dark hair and dark eyes. More than that, though, she was startled to discover that he was young – barely 18 or 19. Apparently, the kid was full of surprises because as he stood up and walked toward the blonde, a smile spread across his face. Carol took a few steps forward to help close the distance between them.
"Danvers," the guy said softly, letting out a breath of relief. Carol reared back, tucking her chin down into her neck and furrowing her brows in confusion. The guy's grin started to fade. "C'mon, Danvers, it—it's me," he told her, almost desperate-sounding.
Carol puffed her cheeks up and blew a puff of air out, wracking her brain even though she knew she had never seen this person before. Finally, she threw her hands to the side. "I got nothin'."
"You seriously don't know who I am?" The kid asked softly. When Carol shook her head apologetically, the boy clicked his tongue. "How is that possible?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair – a hand outfitted with a gauntlet, Carol was sure to notice.
"How exactly do you know me?" Carol asked, cocking her head to the side in a puppy-like manner.
The boy chewed on the inside of his cheek. His eyes darted around somewhat nervously before finally landing on Carol again. "Come on," he said, jutting his chin forward to direct the woman back in the direction from which she had come. Without another word, the stranger started walking.
"Uh, guys?" Carol said quietly into her ear-piece as she hesitantly followed the guy, from a distance of course.
"We're hearing everything," Wanda's voice crackled over the comm. "And we're tracking you," she added. That gave Carol comfort and she gained a bit of confidence as she walked, glad to be behind the boy so she could keep an eye on him.
She did find it interesting that he led her directly to the stairwell she had come from, but he didn't stop within the doorway. Rather, he started up the stairs – heading for the roof.
"Where are we going?" Carol asked with nonchalance, stopping on a landing.
The guy was half a flight ahead of her and he paused to glance back and down at her. "The roof," he told her plainly. He lifted a foot to continue but was stopped again.
"Why?"
Sighing, the teen turned and descended the few steps so he could stand on the step just before the landing, in front of the Captain. "We have a lot to talk about," he told her. "I figured we should get away from all those people," he said, referencing the busy mall. "And it would only make sense for you to arrive by jet, which of course you would have had to land on the roof."
Carol was slightly jarred by the young man's scarily accurate overview. She didn't want to let on, though. "Even if all that's true, why would we need to go to the roof, or the jet, to have this talk?" She gestured around at the empty stairwell. "Why not talk right here?"
"We wanna make sure to include the team," he answered with a shrug. Carol started to protest but the corner of the guy's lip quirked up in a half-smile. "I know you didn't come alone, Carol." Then, he started back up the stairs.
Over the comms, Carol heard Scott say, "Sounds like we're invited to the party."
"See you on the roof," Nebula said in an all-business tone.
Still hanging back a bit, Carol started climbing again. Behind her, she heard the door to the stairwell open.
Once they reached the roof, the guy stepped out into the center of the open space, sizing up the Quinjet. Carol sidled up next to him. "I brought three others," she confessed. She looked pointedly at the gauntlets. "They'll be up here shortly. Please don't shoot them?"
The boy nodded in acquiescence. Just then, the door behind them opened and Scott stepped onto the roof. The boy turned around to look, and Carol swore she heard him gasp.
"Hey there," Scott said slowly and tentatively, as one might to a stray dog. He held his hands up and walked forward. "I come in peace." When he reached the pair, he lowered his hands and gave the kid a questioning look. "What?" he asked.
The guy was looking at Scott with a sort of wonder. He whispered, "You're alive."
Scott frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"
The kid let out a breathy laugh. Then, he seemed to realize the curious way Scott had been looking at him. "You don't know me either?"
"Should I?" Ant-Man asked, glancing over to Carol for more information.
"He thinks we should," she explained. "And he knows us."
A series of emotions flickered across the young man's face as he seemed to be processing information. The guy sputtered as he searched for words. "This doesn't make any sense," he finally stated. Looking at Carol almost imploringly, he asked, "You really have no idea who I am?"
The Captain shook her head dejectedly. She was about to probe further, when the roof's door opened again and Wanda appeared.
The change in the boy was instantaneous. He looked like he could spit venom and Carol's heart was in her throat as she heard the tell-tale whine of the repulsor charging. The teen raised an arm, with his palm up and aimed directly at Wanda. In response, the Sokovian raised her hands, almost looking like she was about to start a fist-fight, except her hands were unclenched, palms out much like the boy's. And her hands were glowing ruby.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Carol and Scott both started protesting at the same time. Scott's head was whipping back and forth between the two people, eyes wide. Carol reached forward and grabbed the boy's wrist with light pressure, encouraging him to lower it. He glared at the soldier for a split second before noticing the serious look in her eyes and realizing that she was wrapped in an orange glow.
"I told you there were more people with me, remember?" Carol reminded him in a soothing voice.
The young man made sure to keep his arm semi-pointed at Wanda, doing his best to fight against Carol's grip. A scornful laugh escaped his throat and he spoke to Carol, although he kept his gaze on the other woman. "She is a threat."
The statement shocked everyone, and even Wanda lowered her glowing hands a bit as she carefully regarded the stranger. The man looked dubiously at Carol and Scott before asking, "You guys haven't figured it out yet?" At their confused looks, he explained: "She's insane." He went back to glowering at Wanda.
She bared her teeth in return, raising her hands again as red wisps continued to blossom at her fingertips. "Who are you?" Wanda called over.
The boy groaned and even rolled his eyes. "Of course. You don't know me either," he said, sounding more irritated than hurt by the fact this time.
"Why do you hate Wanda?" Scott asked, wanting to solve the most pressing mystery first.
The boy turned to look at Ant-Man, his gaze softening. "Where I'm from," he started, allowing Carol to push his arm down, "she—" he jerked his head toward Wanda, "—is dangerous. One of the greatest enemies that Avengers has ever faced."
Wanda's hands dropped to her sides and the red energy completely disappeared. She stared, slack-jawed, much like her teammates. Carol's eyes were wide, but she pushed onward. "What does that mean?"
With a heavy sigh, the newcomer looked up toward the sky. "You have no clue what she's capable of," he said, almost to himself.
With a disgruntled growl, Wanda stalked forward. "Stop talking in riddles and just tell us who the hell you are!"
The guy narrowed his eyes before officially powering down his gauntlets and straightening up into a semi-relaxed stance – well, maybe not relaxed, exactly, but at least not actively preparing for a fight. Still wanting to satisfy his curiosity and also regain control of the situation, Scott asked, "Why do you keep thinking we'd know you?" Then, unable to contain himself, he bombarded the teenager with more questions: "How do you know us? What do you mean by 'where you're from?' And why in hell do you think I would be dead?"
Carol raised an eyebrow at Scott. "Cool your jets," she mumbled at him. But then she looked at the boy. "He has a point, though. Several, actually."
"I will gladly tell you everything and answer your questions," the boy said stiffly. The three stared at him expectantly and he clarified, "Once we get back to the Compound."
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because he suddenly had a gun pressed to his side and a strong arm wrapped around his upper body, ensuring he couldn't escape or use his gauntlets. He looked down at the arm around him and smirked.
"Hello, Nebula," he greeted, albeit somewhat frostily. When he looked down at the gun, he quirked an eyebrow up. "You're threatening me with a phaser-gun?"
Nebula pushed the gun harder into the boy's side. "It may not kill you, but it will still hurt." The blue-skinned woman donned a demented smile. Slowly, though, she released her hold around his chest but didn't remove the threat of the phaser. "You'll answer the Ant's questions. Now," she growled into the boy's ear. "Start with your name."
"My name's Nathaniel Richards," he said, obeying Nebula's order. "This reality that you know is Earth-616 – which I really don't know much about, except that it, apparently, is a hot fucking mess."
"You're talking about the Multiverse?" Carol queried.
"Finally, something you know about!" Nathaniel replied, only partially joking.
"We don't know that much," Wanda admitted. "Just the little bit that Mysterio told Spider-Man."
"Which is basically just that it exists and is like alternate realities, right?" Scott looked at Nathaniel for clarity.
Rolling his eyes, Nathaniel scoffed. "I mean, if you want to completely over-simplify the concept and not really understand it at all."
Nebula slapped the boy across the back of the head, making him groan and reach up to rub his scalp. "All we need are the basics," Nebula snarled.
Scott rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So, you're from a different version of Earth – where you're an Avenger and Wanda's not?"
Nathaniel shot a wary look at the woman in question, gritting his teeth. "Sort of. She used to be an Avenger, until—" he paused, dropping his gaze to the ground and falling silent.
"Until what?" Wanda asked, folding her arms across her chest.
In a quiet, somber voice and still looking at the ground, Nathaniel explained: "You kind of. . . broke. We all did what we could to help but it wasn't enough."
Wanda stepped forward, standing right beside Carol. "What did I do?" she whispered to the boy.
He let out a breathy, humorless laugh. "What didn't you do?"
That caused Wanda's expression to darken and she looked at the ground, awkwardly rubbing her hands up and down her folded arms.
Nebula grabbed Nathaniel by the shoulders and whirled him around to face her. She kept the phaser-gun in one hand but grabbed his wrist with the other. "Why do you have Tony Stark's gauntlets?" she asked gruffly.
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "Stark may have made these, but they are mine."
"Lies!" Nebula spat the word out.
"Believe what you want, Luphomoid," the kid told her with condescension. "But there's more than one Iron- hero in my world."
"Wait, what?" Carol inquired.
Nathaniel threw his head over his shoulder and actually looked a little smug as he said, "Stark of course is Iron-Man, but there are others. Like me." He grinned. "I'm Iron-Lad."
Carol furrowed her eyebrows before shooting a look toward her colleagues. She was about to speak when Nathaniel groaned softly and turned back to Carol and the others. He put a hand up in a placating gesture. Nebula growled behind him, her gun having lost its place at the boy's side, but she kept it aimed at his back.
Nathaniel glanced between Carol and Scott – making sure to let his gaze only bounce across Wanda rather than actually paying her any notice. In a serious tone and with a look that was almost pleading, Nathaniel said, "You don't know what's coming."
There was a long moment of silence. Scott was the one to break it. "Well, that is foreboding as shit."
Carol pursed her lips and considered the boy carefully. "If you came to warn us about Thanos, you're too late."
Nathaniel's head snapped to her and he furrowed his brows. "You guys actually faced Thanos?"
An uneasy feeling settled in Carol's gut. "Are you saying that you didn't?"
Nathaniel shook his head in the negative. "We stopped him before he could do any damage." Everyone's jaws dropped. Nebula finally lowered the gun, letting it hang limply at her side while her free hand clenched into a fist then unclenched, over and over.
"How the hell did you manage that?" Scott asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
Nebula let out a snarl with a scornful look in her eyes. "What does it matter?!" She gestured to Nathaniel, carelessly waving the phaser in her hand. "Whatever he did or didn't do that made things turn out different – how does that help us now? It won't bring any of them back!" She was yelling, and even shaking a bit.
"Wait, bring who back? Who did you lose?" Nathaniel interjected.
With a rueful laugh, Nebula turned back to him. "Rogers. The Vision. Gamora." Then, in a low voice, she ground out the name, "Tony."
Nathaniel blinked at the Luphomoid. "Tony's dead?" When nobody said anything, he knew it was true. Then, interestingly enough, he looked at Scott. "And you're not." It was more of a statement than a question, as he seemed to be trying to wrap his head around the state of things.
"In your version of the world, I'm really dead?" Scott asked quietly. He received a somber nod in response and Scott took an unsteady step backward, running his hand through his hair thoughtfully.
The teen tapped his chin and pondered, "What happened to the timeline here? Why hasn't anyone met me yet?"
"Um, how should we know?" Carol responded.
Nathaniel frowned at her. "I wasn't asking you." Carol shook her head in confusion. Before she could say anything else, though, she noticed that Nathaniel had his head tilted to the side and was standing very still, as if he were listening. After a minute, he muttered, "That's. . . not possible."
"What isn't?" Wanda asked.
"In this Earth, I—" Nathaniel scoffed quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't even exist here." He let out a shaky breath. Putting a hand to his temple and staring at his feet, he softly asked, "Positive?"
"Okay, seriously. Who are you talking to?" Carol asked, pointed an accusatory finger.
Nathaniel's eyes darted up and he looked somewhat guilty. Finally, he sighed and said, "JOCASTA."
Wanda narrowed her eyes in thought. "I've heard that name before," she mumbled, searching her memory.
"She's my JARVIS," Nathaniel explained.
Everyone looked to Wanda curiously. "Stark's old AI?" Nebula asked.
Wanda nodded tentatively. "I didn't know him, really. He was before Ultron. Before. . ." she gulped before softly saying, "Vision." Carol patted the other woman on the back gently.
"We have FRIDAY," Scott told Nathaniel, trying to move beyond the difficult subject.
Nathaniel nodded toward Scott but then flicked his eyes back to Wanda. "Wait, Vision is gone here?" he asked, earning a glare from Carol. "So how are you like this?"
The Sokovian frowned. "I don't know what you mean."
The boy shook his head. "Yeah," he sighed. "616 is definitely the messiest Earth I've seen."
"Nathaniel." Carol said forcefully, pulling the boy's attention back on her. "No more games. We need to know: Why are you here?"
He looked at her for a moment, making her think he was going to deflect with more questions or vagueness. "To warn you," he finally replied. "And to ask for your help."
"With what?" Nebula demanded.
"There's a threat coming."
"Bigger than Thanos?" Scott asked him.
Nathaniel tensed and bit his lip, looking like he was trying to find the right words. Finally, he slumped his shoulders and let out a heavy exhale. "Bigger than everything. Worse than anything you've seen before or could even imagine."
The uneasy knot in Carol's gut tightened. "That hardly seems possible." She frowned. "How are we supposed to help?"
"By stopping it," Nathaniel told her. "This threat is all-consuming. It will take over and destroy everything. We have to stop him before it's too late." A sudden sense of urgency took over. "I told you, I will tell you everything I know and everything you need to know – but we'll need the full force of the Avengers," he implored.
Before anyone could reply, Nebula plainly stated, "Okay." Then, in one swift motion, she lifted the phaser and rammed the butt of it into Nathaniel's head. He dropped to the ground, unconscious.
"Nebula!" Carol shouted in admonishment.
But the Luphomoid simply shrugged. "Get him on board. We'll see what everyone else thinks of him." With that, Nebula walked away to board the Quinjet.
Carol groaned. She picked up the teen and hauled him on board, with Scott and Wanda scrambling behind her.