From the ground where the others' gazes fixed as well Clint looked up at motion in his peripheral eye. Tony was waving him over and towards him he made haste.

"Take Thor," said very quietly, "go. We'll catch up." Clint nodded wordless and turned on his heel.

Unable so to watch and abstain from acting Thor who'd faced away anticipantly regarded like the others now Clint returning. "Come on, let's go. They'll catch up." He pushed lightly Thor forth, who'd then jerked away his arm asserting:

"I won't leave him like this."

"Tony's with him," Clint assured. "He won't leave his side. Come on."

Hiding in Tony's embrace Loki listened anxious, needing them to leave,

needed everyone to disappear.

When he heard their parting steps he put again his concentration on the heart to his ear beating, the firm, slow motions Tony drew on his back, the scent of his cologne, the heat his body was radiating.

He tuned out the world.

Seconds,

minutes ticking by, and Tony wouldn't move. Not until Loki'd in his arms stilled, shed every drop of slipping tears, breathed in and out slowly.

Tony sniffed, pulled away, took in his hands Loki's face, pressed their foreheads, told him lowly: "Let's go home."

XXX

He didn't see it coming.

He doubted Loki did.

He's silent, out the window peering.

Tony tore his gaze away.

It overwhelmed him.

Every tear, every sob, every bodily shiver,

that it was Loki…

It hurt physically, horribly.

Then he was seething, on the wheel his grip squeezing.

What caused it,

pain

so crippling.

It had him searing.

What he would do, what he would do,

if the reason were before him,

if –

[Okay. Breathe.]

He needs to keep a level head, for Loki's sake stay his nerves composed,

because Loki's barely standing he has to stand for him, he has to hold him up.

XXX

Passing several red lights in but minutes they arrive. Speaking not nor at him looking, sparing Loki attention he knows right now he doesn't want, Tony to the second lift leads.

They exit on the 91st. Cloaking what he's certain is a hard, tense face, Tony tweaks his stiff expression, dons a smile and to Loki turns, lets not that drained, depleted silhouette, those absent greens that through him gaze faze his voice when he says to him placid: "I got Jarvis to draw you a bath. Why don't you hop in? I'll be there in a bit." Lacking any form of response Loki towards the bathroom stalks.

Once the door had shut behind him, Tony in himself

collapsed.

To the edge of the bed he fell, took a shaky, strenuous breath, put in his hands his head.

[Oh, Loki…]

In his chest swells again a so throbbing pain that he stands, down his face runs a hand, paces, by the mirror stops.

He looks at himself.

His reflection asks:

'What do we do?'

Answers.

Tony darts for the door.

XXX

Uncertain of what precisely Steve was wary he stayed behind, further back drove sat somewhat concealed in a café across the street.

In the car he saw them climb, got on his bike and from a distance followed them back into the tower relieved. Some part of him suspected Tony might take Loki somewhere away, do something reckless and irrational especially as he'd asked them all to leave.

The car's in parking and both are gone, rode up likely and he got off on the common floor.

The others there sat gathered. No one spoke.

Thor was on the edge of his seat, visibly distressed and aggravated highly, waiting uncertain what to think, what of what he'd seen to make, why,

and what to do.

Not unlike the rest of them.

…Nat was terrified of how well she could relate.

Clint was engaged in a large mental debate.

With so strong and strange an urge Bruce wanted to sit Loki down and talk, undecided even on what precisely.

And Steve…Steve was lost.

He looks where from the stairs down Tony marches. He spares one glance at Steve, glares ahead charging forth browns set in purpose.

Thor catches but an inch of the man and stands, storms towards him.

He doesn't speak doesn't ask, reads the look on Tony's face that's an answer enough, a man treading on the last of his nerves, wild wide, homicidal eyes, raw malice when utters his tongue the name: "Thanos." Like a demon summoned, as alike wrath overtakes Thor's stance and every feature. "You know about him?"

"I will."

"You tell me everything."

"Undoubtedly."

They share the same goal.