Avengers: The Rubbish Bin

by LodestarJumper

Snippets that didn't make it into stories, along with discontinued works. (Gen, no smut)

17. Drawing Keys With Water Deleted

Author's Note: This is not in order. Navigate with effort. ;)

-Spelling is not checked. Grammar is ignored. This is a mess. Some italics were removed in ctrl c ctrl v and I am not going to put the effort of putting them back.

-Some of these scenes will be familiar, an alternate version was used. I'm sure there's other stuff in my 500+ page junk document, but I actually planned pretty meticulously, and didn't have a lot of deleted scenes this time, at least, not any that were longer than a paragraph or two, and those I didn't add.

-Also, before you comment, yes, I am aware that the 2017 draft switches to first person halfway through. Weird note, but I pretty much only wrote in first person before 2018.

---

Alt. Chapter 13 opening

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

It's not the noise, but the vibration against his chest that wakes him. Loki blearily lifts his head from the couch, hand groping across his shirt for the pockets. He manages to locate the device and yanks it from his pocket, watching it buzz inside his hand.

What…?

Oh.

Oh.

Loki lifts up the communicator Nebula gave him, frantically pushing along the buttons until a connection is made. Thor grunts something unintelligible on the other side of the room, rolling onto his side. Loki bites on his lower lip, trying to keep his voice quiet to let his sibling keep sleeping. "Gamora, what the-?"

"He took her." He goes rigid at the voice, swallowing panic. "Nova, he took her. And we don't have a freakin' clue how to stop him-"

"Midnight?" Loki tries to keep the disbelief from his voice. How did Midnight get a hold of this frequency? Where is Gamora? Or Nebula, for that matter? "Midnight, what-?"

"Thanos!" Midnight snaps, "Thanos took Gamora, Nova!"

Kriff. "Where?" Stupid question. "When?"

"Loki?" Thor asks, sitting up and staring at him through bleary eyes. Loki waves a hand. He's not sure if it's in acknowledgement that he heard, or to tell him to be quiet. "Loki, what's…?"

"I don't know!" Midnight snaps, "Her idiot boyfriend just contacted us to let us know that Thanos showed up and she left to keep her bad boy band safe. He's going to kill her, Nova. She knows where the Soul Stone is."

What. "What!?"

"What?" Thor asks, standing. "Who're you talking to?"

Loki ignores him, listening. Raging. "She-"

"And she just neglected to mention this the last time we spoke?" Loki can feel his tone rising, he tosses the book he was picking his way through onto the floor. It's in a language he barely understood anyway. Apparently his past self was fluent in a lot more than the universal translator can work through. "What sort of idiotic, crass thing possessed her!? We need it!"

"I know!" Midnight snaps.

"Oh, for the love of-" a new voice breathes, sounding a little tinny, and there's a rustling sound. Nova feels his eyes widen. Nebula? "Nova, do you still have the Tesseract?"

Nebula. And Midnight. Together.

It takes him a second to speak. "Yes." He's not going to misplace one of the most powerful objects in the universe.

Thor is getting closer, brows drawn together with confusion, but-thankfully-silent.

"Where are you?" Midnight asks, "Because once Thanos has Soul, you're next. He'll be coming for you, and without a secure location on Reality...where are you?"

"I'm," Loki stutters for a second. The need to answer her question pulses through him. Instinct. Years of training, like some sort of lap dog. He looks at Thor. He wrestles with his tongue. If he tells her, there's every possibility the information will get passed because of unsecure lines, or one of them slipping it because of a mental search, or torture, and Asgard's tactile advantage will be lost. The small, sliver of safety his family is within will be gone. If they were here, in person, he wouldn't worry as much.

Still.

He-

No, Loki thinks. I'm not their pet. I'm not part of the Black Order anymore. Their chain of command means nothing to me.

"I'm somewhere safe." He concludes. "So is the Tesseract."

There's a brief pause over the line, like his sisters want to push, but are trying to decide whether or not to. They, miraculously, don't. "Okay." Nebula says carefully. Loki hears the background noise of someone murmuring something. Ebony. Which must mean that BLACK ORDER GUY is also there. "Okay," Nebula repeats.

Loki hesitates, "You...did you...make your move for the Stones yet?"

Nebula snorts, "We did."

"...And?"

"It failed," Midnight says smoothly. There's a fury in the undercurrent of her voice, but the barest edge of hopelessness as well. It startles him.

"And you're still alive?" Loki reals at this. Thanos didn't kill them. He had a chance and he didn't take it. Why? That doesn't sound like him.

"Awaiting execution," Nebula says through her teeth. "But dear old daddy thought it would be funny for us to fail first, then come back and kill whoever's left."

Nausea swirls through his stomach. That, however, sounds exactly like Thanos.

"You're in the cells." It's not a question. They don't answer it. "How are you talking to me?"

Thor's eyes dawn with comprehension. His expression flattens out a little, somewhere between anger and worry. "This is the Order," he says, mostly to himself. Loki angles the communicator away from him, to keep his voice from being picked up on it.

Midnight laughs, "Nebula is more machine than woman at this point. You think we can't wrangle a signal from her?"

Oh, no. He has no doubts. He just can't imagine the pain that would cause Nebula. Her voice, when she's speaking, sounds surprisingly steady. Maybe a little winded, but hardly like she's being torn apart. A part of him wants to protest. If only because Nebula tried to help him. He should return the favor.

He doesn't.

Loki rubs at his temples with one hand. "Do any of you know where Thanos took Gamora? I have the Tesseract, maybe I can intercept him."

Thor jerks his head up, mouth open. Loki slaps a hand over it, keeping him quiet. His fingers twitch, but settle.

"With what army?" Ebony asks, making his presence known at last. Nebula grunts slightly, and there's a slight scuffle, like a foot being dragged across the floor. "In case it slipped your notice, child, you're without resources."

Thor makes a muffled noise.

"Not exactly," Loki corrects. The pressing need to hurry washes over him again, and he shakes his head, "Where did Thanos take Gamora? Does anyone know?"

"They're-" Nebula gasps, and there's the sound of metal hitting flesh, "Don't pull that!" she hisses.

"Oops." Midnight sounds unrepentant. The signal fizzes. "Hold still, you little-"

"Where!?"

"Vo..." Nebula chokes, and the signal loops in an out, "…told me...incase something…"

Oh, screw it. Loki turns off the communicator and stuffs it inside his pocket. He grasps at the strands of his sedir, reaches into his cache, and yanks the Tesseract from within it. He doesn't know the exact cell they're in, but he can guess. Thanos is nothing if poetic.

He releases Thor.

Thor stares at him. At the Tesseract. At him again.

Loki's expression feels tight. "Give me a moment, I'll explain,"

"Wait, Loki, don't-!"

He squeezes the glass, feeling it respond to him like a coiling snake. Hissing and angry, trying to snap at him. He resists, and lets himself get yanked backwards through the smoke. The portal feels oily, like he's being pulled through a filmy residue.

Loki lands on his feet inside the cell he shared with Wanda.

The soft glow of the Tesseract reveals the forms of the four familiar figures. Loki barely thinks twice about it. Doesn't allow himself to. If he does, he'll panic, and back out. He simply grabs the remainder of the Black Order with tendrils of magic, and pulls them all back to his room inside of Asgard.

His siblings fall with a clatter, stumbling over each other and hissing at the sudden light and change in scenery. They're bloody, and worse for wear, but that isn't unexpected. Nebula's arm is a mess of wires and pulled apart bits of metal that are warped out of shape. Almost like someone started to dig at the seams with their teeth.

Which Loki suspects is probably what actually happened.

Thor grabs his arm with one hand, the other grabbing at the hilt of his sword. He swears under his breath. His grip is tight enough that it hurts.

"What the-!?" Nebula hisses, swears, and then looks up at him. The rest of the Order gathers themselves together just as quickly, and Loki feels a wave of doubt wash through him as they turn to face him. This was-this was rash. And. Not. Not...

Kriff.

"You. I," Loki fumbles with his tongue for a moment. Feels like a physical weight is pressing down on it. This, too, is a familiar feeling. Weeks, months, of time within the Order had muted him for survival.

He's still holding the Tesseract.

They're looking at it.

Now he is, too.

Loki pulls his gaze up. Gamora, he forces his thoughts to focus, he needs to focus on Gamora, because Thanos getting the Soul Stone would give him four of six. An advantage. And any more power in his hands wouldn't bode well for the rest of them.

"Well." Ebony brushes white hair away from his face, fingers shying away from a large gash across his forehead. His hair is matted with blood, and it stands out starkly. His gaze sweeps around the room, and Loki feels tight.

He knows that they have a common endgame.

He knows.

But they did, too. And it didn't stop them.

"You're looking well," Nebula shoves something inside of her arm, grimaces, and tries to flex her fingers and doesn't get very far. The movement is stuttered, and her hand won't uncurl. Her chin tips up, "Who's this?"

"I could ask you the same question," Thor says, expression flat. Loki tears his arm from his brother's grip.

Nebula gives something like a half smile.

"Prince Thor," Ebony addresses, and his gaze slides over to Loki. Loki can't read his expression, and, for once, is glad of it. "My, my. The little stray came home at last."

Loki closes his eyes. His jaw is tight. He thinks he might be sick.

This was an awful idea.

Gamora. He did this for Gamora. Because Thaons...and...that...and...he shakes his head. Clears his mind. Focuses on the task. His nails are pressing so deeply into his palms that he can feel his tendons. "Where is Thanos taking Gamora?" he asks, voice flat. He won't play this game.

"We flattened Asgard," Obsidian says, then swings his gaze across the room. "And yet, here we are, wonder of wonders."

Thor draws himself out. Loki tastes something static on his tongue. "Asgard is not nearly so defenseless that it would be crippled by a madman's buffiling goons."

Don't. Don't antagonize them, a part of him wants to beg. He settles for resting a hand on his brother's shoulder, and hoping it will be enough.

Midnight smiles. It looks closer to baring teeth.

Loki circles them back. "Gamora. Where?"

Nebula's finger stuffs something inside her arm and she gasps sharply before tension visibly leaks from her. She meets his eyes, and Loki lets her. He's avoiding eye-contact with everyone else, but not her. "Vormir," she says, "Gamora said the Soul Stone was on Vormir."

Vormir.

Loki wracks his brain for a moment, trying to decide if he's heard of it before. Nothing immediately comes to mind, but given his memory troubles, it's not exactly surprising. Maybe it's just not well-known.

He can work with this, though. A location, a purpose, Thanos' wearabouts. Something they've been lacking these last few days.

"Vormir?" Thor sounds startled, "That empty, uninhabitable dust storm? That Vormir?"

Nevermind.

"Unless you know of a different one," Nebula snips.

---

Alt. Chapter 4(?) 3(?) opening

"All of you are free to leave," Thanos says once the Witch has been escorted from the room. Nova pulls his gaze back from where it was lingering near the door, having watched the woman and Ebony's exit. "Except for you." His father's heavy gaze lands Nova and he resists the urge to clench. He still tenses up, but his limbs don't lock in place.

Nebula's eyes linger on him.

He doesn't need to look on Midnight to see that she's smirking smugly. Nova resists the urge to punch the expression off her lips all together. He breathes in steady and gives a slight nod, refusing to look towards Nebula. Whatever Father has to require of him, Nova will take. Even if it is punishment.

He doesn't know what it would be for. Had Father not just said that he was proud of them?

Midnight turns, giving a slight bow of respect before she and Maw make their move to exit. Father's expression flickers with annoyance briefly-just a breathless moment-before he moves back towards his throne. "I mean all of you." He intones. His tone is dangerous.

The Other makes a slight huff, but nonetheless slips down from the dais, the remainder of the Outriders following after the Chitauri. Nebula hesitates, obviously warring with herself on whether or not to stay before she slumps and moves towards the door. She brushes past him close enough that their shoulders touch before she's gone. Nova frowns, watching her before turning back to his father.

He swallows, apprehension eating away at him. When the silence stretches, Nova speaks, even if he knows it's breaking protocol. "Father? What is it you need of from me?"

Thanos's gaze is studying him heavily. Looking for something. What has he done? "I am curious, my son, what you know of Terra."

Nova pauses. The question throws him, but he blinks and tries to right himself. It wasn't what he expected at all. A demand of what he did wrong. A private chastising. What he can do better in the future. A failure of expectations. A report. Something normal. This isn't…

Normal.

"I…" he stops, thinking, before he manages to claim his voice again. "I'm not terribly familiar with it. I researched it before we landed, but I didn't…don't…"

He bites at his tongue. Speak up. Stop stuttering. Rambling.

"Excellent." His father says suddenly, and Nova lifts his gaze up, brow furrowed. Thanos leans back in the chair, looking pleased.

"I beg your pardon?" Nova questions.

"You have done very well, child," Thanos assures, "quell your fidgeting. This is not chastisement. I need someone to look after the girl." Nova's stomach does something funny, "To study how the Stone entered her. You obviously kept her contained and you know enough about Terrans to find success in the endeavor. Search out what the mortals did to achieve the bonding and report back to me. You have a fortnight."

A quiet voice in the back of his head that two measly weeks isn't nearly enough time to collect the data he's asking for, but he doesn't know the source. He hasn't studied something like this before. Two weeks is reasonable. A challenge. It's not like he's terribly busy anyway.

Father is trusting him with something else.

"...Is there something else?" Nova questions after a moment. "I don't...I don't know…" he hates his father's stare. It makes everything in his chest seize, his head burn with the reminding ache of the Power Stone against his skull. He clears his throat. "I don't know why you would make this conversation private if it was just for that."

His father makes a humming noise. "Always so observant.

---

Deleted Scene, Chapter 10:

"You're sure that you're alright, Ms. Maximoff?" FRIDAY asks, for what must be the third time in the last fifteen minutes. Wanda represses an annoyed sound, instead focusing on the laptop she's rifling through. Tony can be a bit of a neat-freak, but that apparently doesn't extend to his computer files. She's been picking through the stupid thing for the better part of half an hour and still has yet to find anything.

"Yes." Wanda promises the AI.

"Your vitals were concerning. I still think I should call Dr. Cho just to have her make sure." FRIDAY continues, as if Wanda hadn't said anything. Stubborn, overprotective mother-hen.

"Really," Wanda opens a profile and feels her shoulders sag somewhat as she sees the picture attached. There you are. She grabs her phone, opening the phone app. She types in the numbers, doublechecking as she does so.

"Are you certain about this plan of action, Ms. Maximoff?" FRIDAY asks softly.

Wanda pauses for a moment, considering, then sags somewhat. "No," she admits. She shakes her head slightly, "But what choice do we have? Pietro and I"-blood in her throat, choking her lungs, bubbling up and out-"are going to be useless in a fight. We need backup. Rhodey already agreed to meet us here. Spider-Man is the only other hero I already know that isn't in another country."

FRIDAY is quiet, which says more about her disapproval than any words would have.

"It's not like we can contact S.H.I.E.L.D.," Wanda points out, rubbing her thumb against the side of her phone, "this is all we have."

"I understand that," FRIDAY says evenly, "but are you certain this is the best course of action? Wouldn't it be wiser to remain here until the Avengers return?"

There's no guarantee they will.

"We don't know when that will be," Wanda says carefully, "and Nova is right. Remaining here, we're standing ducks."

A pause, then, "I believe the saying is sitting ducks, Ms. Maximoff."

---

Alt. Reunite between Thor & Loki

Loki swings up his daggers to block the attack, scraping his weapon along the length of the metal. It screeches, and Loki uses the sound as distraction, kicking his opponent square in the stomach. He grunts, but persists, bringing the weapon around for a killing blow. It scrapes the edge of his face and Loki grimaces, stumbling backwards.

They keep moving backwards, as Loki tries to get in a few hits, but only succeeds in superficial cuts and a long gash. Their skills seem to be equally matched, but Loki isn't using sorcery. He's preparing to build the energy, let it slip through him before his opponent feints and smashes his other fist into Loki's face.

He staggers back into the meager lighting, grimacing, working his jaw as his hand strays up to his face by habit.

The sword clatters to the floor. Loki squints, looking up with confusion. Why would they…?

"Loki?" The voice is deep, accented and oddly familiar. It's thick with disbelief, as if someone just slapped them. Loki squints into the dark further, but can't make out distinct features of the man. Why can't he place him? He knows this man.

Loki wipes blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand, raising his hands. "How do you know my name?" he demands harshly.

The man makes a noise of disbelief, moving into the light and Loki gets his first good look at him. He's tall, but not much taller than himself. Blond hair is hanging over his shoulders, a braided strand of black wound on the left side. It sticks out like a sore thumb among everything else. He's dressed in light armor, which only helps build his large figure.

His face, though.

Loki knows that face.

His weapons lower slightly without his consent. The man stares at him with open amazement, one hand slowly raising to cover his mouth with the back of it. "Allfathers," he breathes, "oh Norns, are you real?"

He reaches out a trembling hand. Loki flinches back from it somewhat, weapons raising again. "I don't know who you are." He says flatly. The don't touch me goes unsaid, but the man seems to get it, because he pulls back.

The words seem to cause him pain, though. "Loki," he whispers again.

---

Deleted Scene, Thor's POV chapter 12(?)

"You're being an idiot."

Duly noted.

"What do you really hope to accomplish here?"

Stop talking. Please.

"Honestly."

Two minutes. That's all he needs, and he's starting to doubt he'll get even that. He grits his teeth, feeling the familiar ache of the bunched muscles. He closes his eyes, breathing in, then lets it go. But when he opens his eyes, Loki is still standing at the edge of his vision, a hovering, glossy form as ever. Arms crossed, brow raised, disapproval obvious.

Thor flicks his gaze away, shifting his weight. His entire body aches, familiar and dull. Battle wounds.

The yellow barrier hums at his subconscious, a dig on the underside of his ribs. Pushing down, like it intends to drown him. The buffer. He wonders, vaguely, what inside the white room feels like if the outside is like stepping inside a noose.

Red splashes up against the barrier, like a coiled snake hissing angrily. Thor represses a flinch, but Loki leans forward somewhat, as if curious. Always drawn in by danger, like it's a blanket.

"I thought it would be...I dunno. More rock-like." Tony says behind him. "I mean, the stone part of Stone is kinda misleading."

Thor shrugs somewhat, forcing his gaze away from the encaptured Stone to the Avengers.

---

Alt. Opening for Wanda's POV, chapter 2:

"We need more milk."

"We always need more milk."

"We wouldn't if you'd stop drinking it." Wanda turns in annoyance to face her brother, teeth set and eyes narrowed. He smiles pleasantly from the other side of the countertop, working on downing the glass of juice he'd stolen from the fridge less than a minute before. His hair is sprinkled with sweat from the run he'd dragged her into, but that's about the extent of the physical exertion present on him. Wanda is nearly soaked to the bone, but it's normal. Habit. They've done this on and off since they joined the Avengers two years ago.

They go running together in the morning, and Pietro drinks all their milk.

"Clint will be mad." Wanda remarks half heartedly, closing the fridge door in acceptance of the fact that a bowl of cereal is probably not going to be on the breakfast list. She shuffles across the kitchen to grab at one of the burned muffins sitting on the tabletop and picks off a portion of the top, stuffing it into her mouth. It's stale, as expected-it has been sitting there for more than five days now when Lila, according to Laura, begged for a chance to redeem her cooking skills.

"He is usually upset with me." Pietro says, unconcerned.

Fair enough.

Wanda resists the urge to roll her eyes and moves back to the counter, leaning her back against it. The wet shirt digs into her back unpleasantly. "That doesn't make it any better." She mutters in disagreement, swiping sweaty hair away from her face. She needs to get it cut. It's touching the edge of her spine again and it keeps getting in the way of field work.

"Mm." Pietro submits and leans against the counter. "Hand me a banana?"

"Get it yourself." Wanda grumbles, but nonetheless leans forward to grab the fruit from the basket on the table and throw it towards him. He catches without a problem, breaking the top open and taking a bite. Wanda bites on her inner lip and sighs heavily, glancing towards the door to the rising sun in the distance. It's casting long shadows across the Barton's farm, but it's a familiar pattern.

She and Pietro have spent a few weeks here a year since joining the Avengers. It's not Sokovia (will never be Sokovia), but it's still familiar.

Drawing her gaze from the window, she glances at her twin. "How soon do you think the other Avengers will be here?"

---

Deleted Scene, Original plan where Pietro + Wanda found the Soul Stone first

"You...didn't...see this coming?" Pietro gasps, and Wanda resists the urge to rattle him. She should be the one jumping. She can't do this without him. She can't move on.

"Pietro." Wanda gasps and clings to his wrist harder. Her brother looks down at the looming bottom before he exhales shakily and lifts his head up to stare at her again. His blue eyes are wide, but she can see resolve settled.

No.

No. No. No. She can't do this again. She can't. Pietro's death the first time was painful enough. She can't lose him a second time. She's not strong enough. "Brother, please."

Pietro gives a sad smile. "You know...I'm twelve minutes older than you."

"Pietro, no." Wanda begs, her throat is tightening with burning tears. Her arm is burning but she doesn't care. She's not going to let him fall. She'll catch him. She has her powers. She can stop his descent even if he does jump. Oh God-please don't let him fall.

Pietro slips in her grip.

A choked sob escapes her.

"It will be okay," Pietro promises, eyes wide. He's afraid. He exhales shakily, silver hair falling over his eyes. It hides them for a moment, but she can see etched onto every other feature of his frame that he's terrified. He doesn't want to jump any more than she does."I promise sister. I'd rather it was me than you."

He wiggles in her grip. She panics, latching her fingers around his wrist. "No!"

Not her brother! Not after Vision. Not her twin. She can't take anymore.

Pietro locks eyes with her for a brief moment. He offers a soft smile and her arm jerks. She feels the briefest sensation of his lips against the top of her head-he phased, he could save himself, but he won't. No, no-before something dark and heavy coils in her stomach.

Pietro lets go.

"PIETRO!"

She scrambles to grab for her powers, but she can't latch onto him with the blurs of her tears. The red tints her vision and there is no control. All it wants to do is explode out of her, wrench its way from her body and demand a penance for what has happened. She thinks she grabs at the edge of his wrist, but something heavy and compressing keeps her for doing any more than that, whispering he has made his choice.

The fall seems to take forever.

But Pietro hits the bottom, and blood pools around his head. The cracking of his skull against the stone echoes around her screaming. His mind is violently torn from hers, a soft presence that has been there since HYDRA evolved them three years ago disrupted. Stolen.

He is not coming back from this.

Pietro. Pietro. Pietro.

She gasps and begins to sob, resting her head against the stone. Her vision fuzzes in and out for a moment, and her consciousness momentarily blackens. When she can focus again, she's laying in a pool of water, and something cold and oppressive is snug in her palm.

---

Alt. Reunite between Loki & Thor

Oddly, Thor's eyes seem to slide over Loki as if he isn't really there. Wanda's brow furrows somewhat, but she doesn't comment and takes a step forward to greet her teammate.

She turns to Loki, "Would you mind?" she asks, and sees Thor stiffen in the corner of her eye. She glances at him, and notes that the Asgardian's face has gone so white it's almost gray. His blue eyes have widened, settling on Loki as if seeing him for the first time. Almost desperately he asks, "You can see him, too?"

Wanda feels her breath hitch.

Oh.

Loki shoots her a confused, nearly frantic look as Thor takes a staggering step forward. His voice is barely a croak, "Oh Norns, Loki?"

Loki's adam's apple bobs once as his mouth opens, clearly trying to come up with something to say. Wanda's not sure there's anything that would fit. Loki glances at her again, as if seeking permission, maybe reassurance. She gives a bare nod, her heart aching silently as Loki takes a step towards his sibling.

Thor lifts a tentative hand towards Loki's face, cupping his cheek. Wanda watches the line of Loki's shoulders tense, but he doesn't draw away beyond the barest flinch back from the contact. Thor's mouth opens, but there's nothing.

Both are mute.

Still.

Broken.

Then, as if gathering the scattered pieces together, Thor releases Loki's face and pulls him into an embrace. Loki's chin lands on his shoulder, hair falling in front of his wild, wide eyes. There's an earnest desperation to the embrace, something that Wanda understands. She and Pietro…

Wanda looks away for a moment, clenching her fists as her heart gives a violent lurch.

Loki's hands lift slowly, as if unfamiliar with this, and rest against Thor's back. Thor chokes on a sob, lifting one hand to grip the back of Loki's skull, fingers tangling in the dark hair, "I thought you dead," he whispers, "we all did. I never thought…hoped, but…"

Thor pulls back, resting his hands on Loki's shoulders, clearly reluctant to break contact just yet. His eyes sweep over him, "Norns, look at the state of you. You need a healer. And a wash," he lifts up a lock of Loki's hair. The smile he holds is pained.

Wanda bites on the inside of her cheek as her eyes burn.

This.

She never gets to have this again.

Loki grips Thor's wrist and pulls his hand away. The grip doesn't seem gentle, but Thor doesn't care. Loki's voice is a soft murmur, "I die, and the first thing you do is insult me?"

That brings a startled laugh from the elder. Along with the release of tears. They stream soundlessly down Thor's face. "Are you really surprised, brother?"

Loki hesitates. Wanda reads the quiet yes, but doesn't comment on it. Loki doesn't have enough of his memories put together to know Thor that well. To be surprised or offended. Thor is a stranger. Whether it's to appease his sibling, or himself, Loki still answers, "no."

Then Thor pulls him back into the hug, and starts to sob.

---

Deleted Scene, chapter 12:

"Can you heal him?" Frigga sounds hopeful. Her unspoken words hang in the air, make him remember. Fix him.

Loki doesn't know if it's a good thing or not.

The woman who introduced herself as Eir leans back from Loki's head, letting his hair fall over the long scar. Loki looks up at her, and sees that she's frowning. "This wound is old, and it's festered. I don't know if there's much that can be done for it now. Maybe closer to the initial injury I could have…" Eir sighs.

His stomach twists.

Hope drops somewhere south of his knees, and clatters there. He doesn't bother to pick it back up.

"You can't...I can't…" his tongue feels heavy. I'm not going to remember. She can't fix it. She can't make him remember, either.

Eir gives a slight shake of her head, "No. I'm afraid not."

"There is no curse then? Nothing that we can remove?" Odin clarifies. His expression is hard to read, but if Loki were guessing, he'd say that he looks as disappointed as Loki feels.

"No." Eir confirms, "I can't feel any blocks or walls. There isn't a magical reason for this." She turns to him, and rests a hand on his shoulder. He feels tense beneath her, but a little less than everyone else. There's something in her no-nonsense nature that's reassuring. "I'm sorry, my prince. But you fell from the Void and you said that you landed…?"

He nods, biting the tip of his tongue so he won't repeat himself. Don't call me that.

Eir shakes her head a little, "If I were to make a conjecture, the Void made good work of your sanity, and by the time you landed, impacting, you cracked your skull open. Without a strong mental connection, your mind simply...let go. I don't know if it's something you're going to get back."

Loki remembers Gamora silently telling him that he looked like a corpse.

Remembers his first memory being of her dragging him across those long corridors and the awful, mind-numbing pain encasing him.

Loki looks up at his brother. His parents. Jane resting a hand on Thor's arm.

He returns his gaze to Eir's sympathetic face and swallows. "Oh." He manages. His throat is tight, but he tries again, "I see."

It's gone, gone, gone.

And it's not coming back.

---

Original 2017 draft:

They didn't start with her hands first.

They would never go for something so lowly. Hands were a last resort, a final plea with anyone listening that it would work. At first, with their whispered words in a language she could barely understand, it was her heart. The swirling vortex of chaos and pain was tipped against her chest and burned until she wept or screamed, and, despite this, they wouldn't stop.

Her memories are barely coherent in those first weeks since they arrived (when they "volunteered") Only pain and a gut retching horror. (What had she done? What had she done!?) She remembers being sick for days, immovable, before she woke up one morning with an awful headache and destroyed the bedframe with a red leash of her powers.

Wanda would give anything to go back to those days and refuse to sign the papers the homeless shelter drafted them into. Anything. She and Pietro would leave Sokovia, perhaps seek refuge in Great Britain or North America, but they would leave and he would never die, and she would not be here.

Three meters in length, two point one in width.

Drip, drip, drip.

As much as she would love to pretend otherwise, fear is not an uncommon feeling to her. At least, not anymore. It's something that she now possesses and commands dominance over, an unwilling kingdom thrust onto her shoulders, but that doesn't mean she likes it. It's a terrifying dominion to bear, and she hates it. Her reign. The ability to swirl feelings into simple manipulation with little effort-it's horrifying. Sickening.

And yet, it her's to bear all the same.

No matter how much she wishes she could trade it for something else.

She begged them to ease on her brother and the result was this.

Drip, drip, drip.

Sometimes, she thinks it would be easier if someone else were to drive her mind for a little. Give her a moment to crawl to the back of her head and gather the last frays of her sanity together into something tangible.

There isn't much to collect anymore, she doesn't think.

When she was younger, when her brother was still alive, she would have gone to him and he would have chased away all her demons, but he's dead. And he's not coming to help her because he can't. His grave is in New York, among those lost in the Battle of New York. (She wanted him to be buried in Sokovia).

No, she is alone. Screaming in the dark, begging on her knees and no one is listening. No one who cares. Or would help.

She used to hope, a fool's hope, in the beginning that they would come to rescue her. A delightful fantasy that grew more and more ridiculous as time passed onwards, but she would feed it. Feed it until it was stuffed and uncomfortable because she could do nothing else to ease her panic.

Drip, drip, drip.
Her fantastical rescues would often begin with the whir of repulsors and the thwip of arrows speeding through the air, then the shing of a shield, and the patter of her brother's feet-it all ends the same: That this imprisonment isn't forever. The rest of her life won't be staring at the same four walls with the distinct faint red blinking in her peripheral vision and the constant, rhythmic drip of the leaking pipe.

Wanda had been staying with the Barton's for three months and two days before it happened. She'd made plans with the Avengers to move to Avengers Compound in at the end of the next school year because Laura and Clint had dragged her into finishing High School. She thought it was stupid (she's eighteen now, honestly), but she'd went along with them because it was useless to argue.

Laura had been thrilled.

She'd flung her hands up and down in a weird, excited way before proclaiming to Clint that they had to go beginning of school year shopping. It was a foreign concept to her. Sokovia had never been a rich country in the time that she'd been alive. Multiple civil wars had crippled it and the aftermath was worse. She and Pietro were lucky if they managed to feed ourselves, they could never spare expenses for purchasing school supplies.

They'd made it to the store, and Laura had spent a good minute reassuring her that she was more than happy to spend the money Wanda was reluctant for them to, then Clint had jabbed her in the ribs then said that they can always steal from Tony if the need arises. Wanda had been horrified, but dragged into the store nonetheless. After a time, she'd relaxed slightly-as best she could, which wasn't much- she remembers rolling her eyes at something stupid Clint said, then turning to Laura when she called for her opinion on some sort of shirt. After was an explosion of heat smacking into her, being thrown forward dozens of feet, hitting the ground and everything going black.

Wanda never learned what happened to Laura and Clint.

They could be dead, and if they are, it's her fault.

She shouldn't have gotten comfortable, shouldn't have gotten close. But she did, because for one moment in a rare act of selfishness, she wanted their comfort. She wanted the structure the Avengers provided, the friendships filled the gaping hole in her chest where Pietro should have been, and they could be dead. Like her brother. Like her parents.

All.

Her.

Fault.

She's nothing more than a broken lab rat on a lonely string now. Before, HYDRA never really got to examine the full results of the enhancement, she and Pietro were still unstable when they attacked the Avengers. HYDRA injected them with the experiments over the process of several weeks and after many near deaths, the power's grasped hold and refused to let go. HYDRA was fascinated and tested what they could, but they didn't get very far. Pietro and her were off with Ultron some two weeks later.

Her brother, who to HYDRA is nothing more than another "experiment" and she's the reason that they can't study him. They insist that her brother's death is her fault and she wishes they would stop because she knows it. They have all the time in the world to study now; at least, study her.

Drip, drip, drip.

She honestly can't remember when the last time she saw daylight was. It's been at least two-maybe three-months and she misses it with a burning ache. She longs for the warm feeling of the sun on her skin, the smell of grass, laughter, the openness of the sky the limitlessness, Pietro's laughter, the Barton's-she misses the Avengers.

When Tony realized that HYDRA was not completely destroyed like they thought, they'd pulled her into a room and sat her down and explained the entire situation. They didn't try to hide it, at least, which she's grateful for. Nonetheless, Wanda had been puzzled and questioned, "how is this relevant to me? I'm not an Avenger yet."

Steve and Tony had shared a look before Steve had sighed quietly and explained with reluctance, "They're looking for you, Wanda. They think your the answer to their problems-you were their last completed experiment. Strucker's still out there. What he wants to do with you we still don't know yet."

Wanda had been horrified. She refused to go back. Going back meant more needles, and masks, and doctors, and she'd hated the idea and panicked.

Steve used to tell give her reassurances that the worst was over, and she was safe now. They were empty lies, but she'd appreciated them at the time.

Lies, lies, lies.

But she can't blame him. How was anyone supposed to predict that attack? Iowa was supposed to be safe. She disappeared from New York to the south and HYDRA shouldn't have been able to find her, but they did and she should have known it wouldn't be enough. She's an experiment-their experiment. And now that they've dug up everything they can for research, they've determined that she would be a wonderful asset for rebuilding their empire-or at least, she's assuming because no one has told her yet.

HYDRA is a scramble of a few large groups scattered across the globe and they want to work up to the power again. They want to be the hand guiding the chess pieces across the board once more. Her answer has been been no since she was brought here. HYDRA is determined to find some sort of way to make her help them, and she'll give them credit at persistence, if nothing else. She still refuses when they ask her.

She won't break.

She won't give in.

...but she's been her for weeks, alone, and she can feel her resolve slipping.

The wall behind her is cold, slightly damp, and the whole area smells funnily of rotting fruit. It isn't large, three meters by two point one without windows and the door elevated about three feet from the ground. There aren't any stairs guiding to the doorframe and she wishes there was. It would save her from having to climb up the jagged slope every time HYDRA wants her to leave. There's a thin slit of light from the cracks in the door frame that offer the illusion of some light, but it isn't enough to pretend by. In the far upper right corner, where the frail light doesn't reach, there's a leaking pipe that drips, on average, every minute and twenty three seconds. Sleep is near impossible here, though her internal clock suggests that it's around three in the morning.

She's exhausted, mentally and physically.

She knows she's being a needy child-and she doesn't know how to help it-but she really thought that the Avengers...that they would have found her by now (they aren't looking, they must not be looking), or S.H.I.E.L.D., just-someone, but there has been nothing. Her sense of time is a distorted mess and she lost count after week three of her capture. She doesn't have anyway to keep track of time save by when they bring meals. She doesn't even know what month it is anymore. No one is coming, just as HYDRA promised.

She is alone.

She would love to grab at her messy, ratty hair and give a long, hard scream.

But what good will it do?

She moves and the collar will shock her; it's digging into her neck again with the uncomfortable force that she's grown used to. The thick fabric seems quite determined to reach bone, and it will if given enough time. In a way, she supposes that she's oddly proud (in the far back of her mind where there's nothing but a tumbling chaos of slipping madness) that she still wears it. If they'd taken it, it would mean she's no longer a threat.

Despite this, her hair is caught in the frays of it again, and it's tugging and painful. It will take some time to detangle, but she doesn't have that option. She can't use her powers to rip the collar off, move it, or really use them at all. She can hardly think straight anymore, a headache has taken residence at the back of her mind and refuses to move out via whatever drugs they slip into the food. If she could-oh the wretched word of "if"-she would be their worst nightmare. She would rip her way to freedom, no manipulation required, she would hunt, then she would escape.

Drip, drip, drip.

The water is pouring onto the puddle in the far right again. It persists for a few seconds, then stops innocently when Wanda's gaze lazily lifts to it, as if ashamed to be caught dripping in her stare. Nothing unusual. She slowly turns her head to see through the strings of her long hair, trying not to aggravate the shock-collar; it only stings when she moves suddenly or she attempts to use her powers. Her hair falls over her face and she blinks lazily, ignoring the familiar haze spotting in her vision.

The dull, very faint blink of the collar lights up around her in the cell for a second before dying. It stretches across the room to the puddle, giving the water a deep reddish tint that makes it look like the cranberry juice Lila was obsessed with. She hates the collar, it makes her feel like a bad pet that needed to be chained and strapped down-they treat her no different.

It doesn't matter much, though, because by the way she's going, she won't be out of here until she's dead or nearly there. HYDRA wants to attach her back to her strings, safe where she belongs as their little puppet.

Gah, she hates this!

She clenches her fists tightly, then sharply bites on her tongue to withhold an audible hiss of pain. Yes, the experiments have slowed, but they haven't stopped and her hands are generally a victim of them. HYDRA has a great list that they work with and scratch all over determining if I have one ability or another. No she can't create portals, no she doesn't have x-ray vision, manipulation over lightninging or a healing factor-they tore apart her palms to test the last one. But still, the testing is better than when they leave her in the dark room when she says "no" again and the only sound is her breathing and heartbeat. She hates it when they leave her there. She wept last time and she's not allowed to show any weakness. She can't. Tears are emotions and I can't show any because it gives them something to play with.

A low shiver travels down my spine and she shifts to better conserve meager body heat. Her bones jut out where they shouldn't now, and she knows what malnutrition looks like. She and her brother were never exempt from it.

She misses blankets.

She misses real food that doesn't taste like solid ash and wet fabric. She misses music, bright colors, loud cities, Tony's stupid jokes, she misses the smell of Pietro's hair. It always smelled faintly of vanilla-a shampoo he was obsessed with when they were still living with their parents and could afford such meager expanses. He would come running towards her with it in his hands and declare that they had something worthy of kings.

She misses him. (Desperalty. An ache in her stomach and a cry tearing from her lips because he's dead, dead, dead and never coming back and-)

She misses and misses, and misses and it is useless.

Wanda exhales sharply through her teeth, finally remembering to breathe again. She was holding her breath, but she'd forgotten. She inhales slowly to steady her lungs, attempting to calm her racing mind. It, as usual, doesn't help. After she's managed to steady her lungs to the best of her ability, Wanda unclenches her fingers and slowly leans her head back to rest it against the wall behind her. The chill immediately sinks past her hair to her scalp, but it's relieving to her pulsing head.

She would love to sleep, but here it is impossible. She can't with the knowledge that they're watching her, nor with the shock collar there to sting her when she accidently rolls in her sleep. No sudden moves. It refuses to let her. She's starting to forget the last time she slept through the whole night properly. Probably the night before it happened.

Do they miss her?

The Avengers.

Maybe.

(Who would miss her?) She got a lot closer to them after the attack. Ultron had pulled out wounds and picked at scars to let them be infected. It wasn't pretty. She'd seen the rift that had been created, but the Avengers had pulled together, stronger than they were before. Dr. Banner had returned after two weeks and Natasha had apologized to him for something that had happened between them, but needless to say, any blossoming relationship (did they have one?) is gone and their back to being friends. -? Tony proposed to Pepper, Wanda wasn't present, but Tony had called Clint later, his voice radiating with happiness.

Who is-

Wanda shakes the thought away, and bites at her lip heavily, trying to focus on something other than her head. The other prisoners, few that they may be, aren't very quiet. Someone has pneumonia and Wanda can sense their growing fear of death between the thick, stone walls.

There's the echoing of the guards boots as they pass the cell every ten minutes or so and the very quiet talking between captives thrown together. She can't see out of the cell, so pinpointing who's speaking or why some are quietly whimpering. It makes her angry. Merciless monsters. She wants to rip them apart.

But revenge won't solve anything.

She knows that after Tony. During the preparations for Pietro's funeral, Wanda had stayed at the Tower. In the midst of yet another emotional breakdown, she was a mess that first week, Tony had handed her a bagel then squeezed her shoulder, murmuring words of comfort quietly. Her stomach gives a funny twist.

Wanda gives gnaws at her lower lip and slowly opens her eyes to stare at the door. It's been close to thirty hours since she was pulled out for the last examination, and unless she's been counting wrong they should have tossed some sort of food in here now, unless she-

What on earth is-?

Her shoulders tense and her stomach lurches in surprise at the unexpected, high pitched wailing grinds against the metal hallways. A door being opened, she'd guess. Not the guards delivering food, they're already walking between the halls...Are they back to drag someone else out again?

No. There's too many men.

Fifteen, at least. Maybe more.

The footfalls are loud and make her headache worse, but little doesn't now. She grasps the remains of her attention and forces herself to focus on this. Whatever it is. The only other time she can think of when there was this many men was when they dragged another prisoner in. She heard them dragging a body then, she didn't see it. Not with the elevated door.

The metalic taste of blood rests on her tongue and Wanda eases the pressure of her teeth on her inner lip.

What is going on?

Wanda turns her gaze to the door and squints, staring at the metal, but her vision is still hazy. The footsteps are getting louder, still, and now she can hear the sound of a body being dragged over the metal framework. Ah, so it is another prisoner, then.

Is…

Is…

Is...is it one of the Avengers? There's at least fifteen separate pairs of boots, they would take such precautions for a prisoner like the Avengers. Despite her best efforts, a bubble of hope builds up in her chest. Even if they're captured that means they tried. They haven't forgotten about her. (They wouldn't leave her to rot. They wouldn't just assume that-)

The footfalls come to a stop in front of her cell and a sudden dread swallows the glimmer of hope gleefully. Maybe they didn't drag another prisoner, but they're here for her again. She's not ready. Her hands still burn and she-

The handle clicks and groans before the door is thrown open and bright light smashes into the dark cell casting the shadows into the corners. Immediately, Wanda's eyes burn and she tilts her head away from the source as she blinks rapidly trying to ease the stinging. When it's settled as best as she can get, she lifts her head back up, slowly.

The leader of this HYDRA base is in the doorway, a tall man with neatly cropped hair that she's come to know by the name of Dr. Tive. He's wearing a business suit sans a tie and Wanda spots a dark stain on his suit coat. His gaze is lingering on her with a curious flicker and Wanda hates it. His lips twitch with a smirk, causing a deep uneasiness to settle in her stomach. She forces herself to remain stoic and unmoving.

Dr. Tive turns to the other helmeted men and she squints, trying-but failing-to spot their captive. Dr. Tive meets her eyes again, "Ah, my dearest Wanda," His accented voice is smooth, as always; she doesn't think she's ever seen this man portray an emotion he didn't want her to see. Still, the way he says her name makes her feel vaguely ill and angered. She wants to strangle him. Rattle his skull back and forth. He forms the syllables as if she's a pet he's fond of, or can't understand English well.

It disgusts her.

"You look horrible." Dr. Tive notes, his fingers flexing in. His tone sounds indifferent, but she hears the sick pleasure ground within as well.

She bites her tongue to resisting the urge-though it's strong-to say something in response. It will only fuel him forward, and she's learned it's better to remain quiet. Dr. Tive meets eye with one of the two masked men carrying the prisoner, "Toss him in, get someone to give them food in the next five hours." Dr. Tive says with a careless wave of his hand. She chews heavily on her inner lip.

Dr. Tive turns to look back at her with a small smile, "Be good to your new roommate, Wanda, we wouldn't want a quarrel."

No, of course not.

The men drag their captive forward and throw him carelessly in the cell. The prisoner falls the two feet lifelessly, then smacks into the hard cement, head smacking against with a splash into the larger water pile, spraying her leg. Wanda flinches away with response and gasps in pain as the collar works its magic. Her breathing hitches.

Dr. Tive laughs mirthlessly and her new cellmate jerks his head upward and long, black hair falls in front of his shaking body. He looks like he's gasping for air, but she can't hear the wheeze of his breath. His arms are struggling to hold his weight. Whether he was awake or not before he got thrown she's not sure, but Wanda doesn't think so.

"Play well with each other." Dr. Tive instructs before turning and he and his party move beyond the cell, slamming the door shut. Darkness envelops the cell once more and Wanda hears the ragged, muffled breathing of the other occupant.

The last person she shared a cell with lasted three days before Dr. Tive removed her.

Wanda wraps her arms around her chest, attempting to calm the anxiety jumping in her lower abdomen. The man rolls to his feet in a fluid movement, then rushes at the door and slams a hand against it. Anger. Possibly despair.

The sound vibrates all the same, causing her to wince.

Another slam, but he says nothing.

Unusual.

Wanda watches his back warily.

He must be a little over six feet if she's guessing right with his body against the door. He's sharp angles of bone and his ragged black hair falls a little past his shoulders. He, like her, is barefoot and wearing only the prison-provided shirt and pants. As expected, his is blue; Wanda's is red. The colors are used to distinguish between gender. There's a pair of shackles strapped to his wrists with a long chain between the cuffs.

Hissed breaths are escaping the other and Wanda is convinced he's going to hit the door again.

He doesn't.

Instead, he turns revealing his angled face. His hair is dripping water, but his green eyes are narrowed with frustration. He seems slightly familiar, but from where escapes her. The most prominent thing, however, isn't the fact that he's wet, but rather the muzzle strapped to the lower half of his face. Wanda is immediately drawn aback.

A muzzle.

HYDRA-

They muzzled him.

Like a dog.

She doesn't understand. What did he do to earn that?

The dark-haired man wipes water from his face (where he can), heated eyes flickering towards her for a brief second before he shifts away from the door, beginning to trail back and forth across the small cell.

Wanda watches him with her eyes.

His frame is gaunt and she's mildly worried he's going to collapse from the exhaustion that he carries in his stance. His limbs look like they're heavy.

Another prisoner.

Not the Avengers.

They're not coming.

Wanda bites back the moisture that builds in her eyes, mentally cursing. She's not going to cry. Especially in front of someone she doesn't even know.

After nearly twenty minutes, the newcomer-she can't just call him that. He's a person and she refuses to dehumize him even just a little more. She doesn't know his name and he can't tell her, (a muzzle. Who would-) but she has to call him something. What? Prisoner two? That's worse. How about Kat? He reminds her of a cat, a wet, gaunt, cat. It's a tad rude, but it's all she can think of. Kat it is, then-slows before stopping completely.

He moves to the other side of the cell, seeming to ignore her presence and sits down, figure hidden in the thick shadows. Wanda can only see the edge of his foot now, so she averts her gaze, then realizes with a slight jolt that she was staring. HYDRA does enough of it, he didn't need it from her.

Wanda can't believe he lasted on his feet as long as he did. Even if he looked like he was going to topple, the floor is not exactly heated. It always bothers her feet when she gains a free moment to wander around the cell when they turn the collar off-it isn't often, but she always relishes the chance anyway. Often, for the testing, they require it to be off.

Kat doesn't move, and Wanda eventually listens to her body's pleading to shift positions, slowly lowering herself to the floor, tucking her head onto her elbow as a pillow. The collar gives a low blinking and Wanda resists the childish urge to cover it with fear she's bothering Kat. He only breathes steadily across the room.

Her eyes slip shut without her consent.

Drip, drip, drip.

She doesn't want to sleep-nor can she remember when she did-but she knows when she awakens because it's to the guards loudly ripping open doors and throwing in meals. They're yelling things, but it's in German and Wanda knows less than ten words of the language. Her language knowledge resolves in only Sokovian and English.

The door the cell is opened, spilling light across the cell and Wanda sees that Kat has shifted to a seating position. He catches the guard's eye and the man pauses for a long second, eyebrows meeting with slight anxiety.

Anxiety.

The guard...is afraid of this man.

Who is he?

The spell breaks and the guard shakes his head, tossing two water bottles and two packages of the rationed meals into the cell. The plastic water bottles land with thunks, undamaged, and the packets follow a second later.

The guard slams the door shut, casting the room into darkness.

Wanda's stomach twists hopefully, reminding her that she's ravenous.

She can't bring up the willpower to move, however. She'd have to crawl, slowly, and she doesn't want to lower herself to such standards with another person in the room. Her pride will be her downfall.

She hears Kat shuffles and squeezes her eyes shut, digging her eyes into her bicep. She's not hungry...She's not as hungry as she thinks. No. She can last a little longer. She doesn't need to move, no, she can remain here and fall asleep forgetting about the pangs for a little longer and-

She is not hungry.

She curls around her stomach and tries to ignore the borborygmi, but doesn't find much success.

000o000

A few hours later, she gives into grab the water because she can see it, but she doesn't know where the food ended up and she doesn't want to search. She downs the water bottle, then returns back to bed. Kat doesn't talk or interact with her and they remain in this cycle for a little over three days. Wanda hasn't eaten in two, now, and her vision is beginning to fuzz at the edges.

It hurts.

Pain and pain and pain.

(Why can't she just take it? The food makes the collar buzz and it hardly eases the ache anyway-)

When the guard gives them the meal, Wanda rolls over and does her best to ignore it. She makes it about five minutes before flinching back from a sudden touch on her shoulder and gasps with pain, her hand coming up to grasp at her throat where the collar struck her. Kat, from where he's leaning down in front of her, lifts up his hands slightly, green eyes narrowed.

She bites sharply at her lip and remains still, watching him.

"What?" She questions, her voice is a low croak.

It's then that she remembers that he is still wearing the muzzle and cannot speak back to her. Wanda mentally kicks herself for her thoughtlessness. Kat seems undeterred, however, and merely blinks are her before slowly raising his right hand up to reveal the small portion of bread they were given today as a ration.

Wanda's stomach twists sharply, reminding her how hollow it is.

She doesn't want it.

She'll rot before they break her.

Kat offers it towards her, a questioning look in his eyes. She shakes her head no, and attempts to rest her hand on her elbow again, intent on sleeping some more, but Kat jabs her upper arm. Wanda hisses sharply at the sensation and looks back at him with a scowl.

He shoves the bread at her more urgently.

"I'm not going to eat it," she promises, "save your strength."

Kat's eyes narrow, then his shoulders slump with defeat. It's then that Wanda notices that above the shackles cuffs is an additional black band. She's only seen it on a few prisoners. The ones that HYDRA has no intention to let leave. The band self destructs once it gets past a certain GPS coordinate, and it's burned into the skin making it nearly impossible to remove.

Whoever Kat really is, he is not leaving HYDRA's grasp alive.

Wanda's stomach twists with sympathy and pity.

After a moment, he tilts his head back to look at me and I can almost hear his voice through his forest green eyes. "Stop staring at me." He seems to say. I peel my gaze away from him immediately guilt rushing through me. I'm sure that he's already been watched enough. They like watching me, seeing how my powers work what the limits are. I don't like it.

"Sorry," I murmur in response to his unspoken words. The sound of my voice is strange, I haven't spoken in weeks the sound of it pierces through the dark quiet like a knife and I resist the urge to wince. I might've well as yelled it. I purse my lips and watch as Kat slowly sits up wincing before slowly rising to his bare feet. He begins to unsteadily pace back and forth across the cell.

His footing is slippery and I worry that he's going to collapse at least every other step. The cold of the stone doesn't seem to bother him like it did me when I have free movement, not often but when they need to test me they take turn the collar off. My hands are still bandaged sloppily from the last one. A few days ago if I remember right. I don't know, I've sort of lost my ability to tell time unless I'm trying really hard.

Kat doesn't speak but does look at me occasionally as if he can see everything inside my head with one glance. His stance holds an aura of someone who used to be important but was trampled on. His burned wrist is cradled next to his chest, pressing against it like he has another wound there but it's subtle. If I wasn't watching him as closely as I am I wouldn't have noticed.

Through my powers I can sense raw energy rolling off of him in waves. Is he enhanced like me? Is he a puppet like me? Pietro and I were the only living test subjects, though. Maybe they did more. I'm not sure. He doesn't stop, and the sudden switch from silence to the soft sound of his feet treading across the ground is strange.

Drip, drip, drip.

I don't count the time but it feels like hours before the sound of footsteps rings outside the cell. Doors open and slam the guard yelling as he does so. Our door opens finally and the guard stares at Kat for a full second wearily before tossing in a piece of bread. It lands at Kat's feet and the guard slams the door shut in haste.

The guard...was afraid of him.

Who is he?

I should know him, I'm an idiot for not but I honestly cannot place where I've seen him before. Kat stands there for almost a full minute before he leans down and grabs the bread before slowly moving towards me and sliding down against the wall sitting about four feet from me. He looks worse from close up. I can sense the exhaustion on him, the fear, the longing and faint anger.

My fingers twitch from where they rest on my lap. I've been sitting in my butterfly position for so long everything past my hips are numb. I suppose it's a good thing I've always been slightly more naturally flexible than most people.

Kat stares at the bread for a moment before twisting his upper body to look at me and lifts the piece up to me. It's painfully clear that he is fully aware that he can't eat it. Closer, I can see a faint trail of red around the skin next to the muzzle where his skin's been rubbed raw and I bite my tongue.

Kat's hand is shaking slightly and the sudden movement snaps my attention back to him...and the bread. I gnaw on my inner lip. I can't eat. It doesn't work. There's too much movement, it hurts more than it's worth. Most of the time they force an IV into me just to keep me alive. Or when they turn the collar off for the tests they force me to eat the food. Everything is drugged, though, it makes it nearly impossible to focus. I don't know why they even bother with the food. It's more mockery than anything else.

I eye Kat.

He stares at me unblinking, his green eyes watching me with one of the most piercing stares I've ever witnessed. It makes me uneasy-almost as if he's reading my mind or can see straight through me.

His hand doesn't move and he lifts it closer to me, silently prodding me to take it.

The urge to shake my head is strong but I resist at the last second. I lick my lips slightly, "I cannot."

He stares at me quizzically, his gaze sweeping over the rest of me for a moment before it lingers on my neck. His hand falls a look of anger flashing through his eyes. He rests the piece next to my knee anyway and tugs his knees close to his chest wrapping his arms around them before resting his chin on top and stares forward blankly.

Drip, drip, drip.

The silence is thick between the two of us and I study him again. He looks a little older than twenty but could still easily be in his late teens or early adulthood, his eyes are deeply shadowed and from what I can tell it looks like he's been captured by them for a few months.

I slowly play with the frayed edges of the bandages wrapped around my wrists, fingers and forearms. It reminds me of after me and Pietro's enhancement. My fingers ached for days. Now they hurt all the time. I let out a breath and Kat tilts his head from the wall to look back at me his eyes lingering on the collar again.

I lower my gaze to my lap again and tilt my head against the wall jerking at the shock from the collar my spine going rigid but I force myself to relax slightly. I can feel Kat's stare on me though, but I ignore it.

000o000

Three days pass and nothing exciting happens.

A guard comes by again and tosses more bread into the room and Kat finally stands to retrieve it. He hadn't really shifted and I was admittedly worried. He returns to the wall and slides down against it. He rests the bread against the ground near where the other piece is. The other one is turning a sickly shade of green and I'm slightly curious to see if it will grow mushrooms before they take it.

Kat mimics my butterfly position with a cross legged one and watches me with interest. It's slightly strange from the last seventy two-ish hours passing with both of us ignoring the other's existence. He meets my eyes and his left hand drums across the ground for a moment, his right is in his lap looking pathetically dead.

After a moment his eyes grow downcast and he turns his head dipping his left hand in the water and shifting slightly to make room between us. I stare at him with interest and after a moment upside down he sloppily writes the stone darkening underneath the water's touch.

'You are young.'

Slight irritation flashes through me at the statement, everyone always assumes that because of my age I can't do anything. That I'm pathetic and a weakling. I'm almost eighteen. Or maybe I am. I don't know. Me and Pietro's birthday was coming up when I was captured. If it's already passed, good, I don't want to have to celebrate it without my brother anyway.

Kat is watching my expression again. I force a blank look to pass over it and blink refocusing myself. I meet his piercing stare, "As are you."

His eyes make a ghost of an amused stare as if he knows something I don't. He dips his hand in the water again shifting slightly to move in a position where he can write without making me move anything but my eyes. It's kind of nice, I guess.

'Name?'

I raise my eyes to look at him again. He's shaking his hand to get rid of the dirty water but looking at me, his expression looks slightly hopeful. I bite my tongue again, I've been doing it a lot recently. If I had a mirror, I'm nearly positive that my tongue has a permanent imprint of my teeth on it. There's an aura of dangerous around this man and I want so badly to rip off the collar and read his mind, to sense what he doesn't want me to know and know if I can trust him or not.

But I can't.

I've tried.

What do I have to lose? Nothing. My family's dead, my teammates abandoned me, there's nothing. "Wanda." Even I can hear the hesitation in my voice.

Kat hums slightly and closes his eyes tilting back against the wall of the small cell. There's only about seven feet from where I'm sitting to the other wall and he's sitting as far away from me as possible without taking a plunge in the water.

Drip, drip, drip.

"And you?" I ask.

He visibly deflates at the question. I'm not sure why. He tilts his head to look slightly at me and slowly runs his hand over the band burned into his pale wrist meeting my eyes for a moment before letting out a soft breath through his nose. He slowly dips his fingers in the water again and moves his hand towards the stone again. I watch the water darken it and as the pale fingers trace their course, the remaining color drains from my face.

'I am Loki.'

Chapter Two: Longing

Wanda,

He...what?

I rip my gaze from off of the floor so fast that the world spins for a moment. I stare at his blurry face squinting as much I can trying to clear my murky lenses. His dark hair is falling in front of his green eyes and pale face but Loki… I can see it now, it's impossible to miss yet I did. Amazing work, Wanda, Pietro must be so proud.

Loki.

I'm trapped in a cell with Loki. The dangerous murderer, insane would-be world conqueror; and I nicknamed him "kat."

I nicknamed him.

I purse my lips together tightly refusing to meet his I'm sure happily laughing gaze. Now that I know, is he going to kill me? Why is he here anyway? Can't he just twitch his pinky finger and blast Hydra out of existence? That would be nice, I wouldn't mind-even encourage it. But why…? I want to scream at him to tell me but he can't and maybe he won't. He's crazy, there's no way ever that he would explain it to me.

The wall is cold. The gasping of my chest is painfully tight and I want to snip at the invisible strings wrapped around it. I can't. I'm choking. I can't find my breath.

I can't believe I was such an idiot.

Loki. Loki. Loki.

The word is haunting, a laughing melody to my screaming thoughts. Everything is spinning round and round my head. I want to scream. The unfairness is pathetic, it's childish, to say that though. Life isn't fair. I need to kick myself back and gear and accept that. If my family's death and the Avenger's abandonment didn't teach that, I really am a terrible student.

My vision is fogging again. Is the world supposed to be that gray? No...Yes? I can't remember. The Avengers left me. Hydra locked me in a room with an insane man. Do they want me dead now? He's going to kill me, I'll turn and he'll plunge a dagger into my back. He's unstoppable.

Dangerous.

Deadly.

Insane.

I'm locked in a room with an insane murderer!

I want to run, to hide and get as far away as physically possible from this man. The aura makes sense, along with his stance. But little else does. He's supposed to on Asgard. Facing justice-or whatever it was that Thor said. And why did he help me? Why did he talk to me, aren't I just an ant beneath his boot? Is he working with Hydra? Is that why he's in here, to gain my trust and get me back on my proper place attached to their strings?

But…

That doesn't make sense. Loki was tossed in here, he's branded and the muzzle...I just...augh! I don't know. Why did he help me? What good does it do him? There must be another motive, maybe he wants to use me as a tool, too.

Insane, murderer, would-be conqueror.

This isn't fair!

I've come so far, gone through so much to die here by his hand.

I dive towards my powers, trying to grasp them, to pull them up from where they've been kept from me. It's a pulse beneath my skin, in my veins, flowing through me but I can't grab it. It's out of reach, my head is worse... Am I breathing? Do I need to breathe? All I can focus on is the pain.

Pain, pain, pain.

I brush against the power source and the agony extends.

I push, and push and push.

Someone is screaming, it's echoing in my ears. It hurts, it's making my head worse. Can't they stop? I want it to stop. I want Pietro. I want-air. I want air, I'm suffocating.

The thoughts drag me back into reality away from my panicking ones and I gasp, my vision so blurry I can't make out anything but swirls of black. My lungs ache and I inhale deeply. I blink rapidly trying to clear the swirling spots and my senses return to me.

I swivel my gaze away from the non-to interesting door towards Loki who is watching me, his eyebrows meeting his expression blank. Our gazes lock and he pulls his sight back staring at the ground where the wet letters are still spelled out.

My vision is as clear as it's going to get and I take a long stare at him. He looks drained, tired and in pain. Waves of emotions are rolling off of him with ease and not for the first time, I wish I didn't have the gift to read them. I clench my fists slowly and dig my fingernails into my palms.

He looks up again at me, blinking tiredly. If he's acting, it's a good one. "Why are you here?" I demand. My voice is barely above a whisper. He tilts his head back slightly and his eyes grow distant.

After a moment, he lifts his hands up with his wrists pressed together and tilts his head towards me. He…"You're a prisoner?"

He nods stiffly. The gesture is barely there. If I blinked I could have missed it. Why? What use is Loki to the-Oh.

Loki is a master of sorcery. Living energy. They could drain him, or force him to use his powers on me; perhaps they've finally grown tired of their extermination on me. Good. I don't want anymore. I won't take my hands nor my brain being ripped apart then forced back together anymore.

I can't.

Can't even handle a little torture, Wanda? Pathetic.

I know. I am, I am, I am, I am!

Loki lowers his hands into his lap and grabs one of the pieces of bread with both hands before pausing. He looks up at me as if asking for permission. The gesture startles me. He's asking...almost like he'll be punished if he doesn't. What have they done to you? My gaze sweeps over him again almost like I can draw the answers out from just looking at him. I can't, obviously, he's like reading a brick.

Insane, murderer, would-be world conqueror.

The bread. He's still waiting.

I don't answer, don't nod my head and bite my tongue. I want to scream at him. Why didn't he tell me before!? Not like he could and I should have known because I'm just such an idiot.

Loki waits for a few more moments before tearing apart the bread murderously. Whatever he plans to do with it, I don't care. The piece from three days ago is pretty hard, maybe he'll make a weapon. I could see it happening. The Hydra men screaming as hardened bread comes flying at their face, begging for mercy as Loki laughs maniacally-Wanda. Really? Have you lost your mind? Two months ago and counting.

Great. I sound like Pietro. He had enough sarcasm dripping from his tongue to drown a mermaid.

My heart gives a tiny flutter of unhappiness at the thought and I give a heavy sigh before looking at Loki's fingers. They're moving sluggishly now as he slowly rips the bread apart into dozens of small tiny pieces. I know from personal experience that the bread is already pre-hardened enough that Hulk would have trouble smashing it; so I'm not surprised he's not taking bigger pieces but I wince anyway. What torture would he do to me if he could? If Hydra wasn't the one pulling the strings here?

I'm terrified. I want my brother. For him to comfort me like he used to with hugs and soft words, it's selfish and stupid, I know but I want him so much it's a physical ache in my chest. Our mental link is gone severed and it's never coming back. He'd protect me from Loki and I would protect him, together we would make it out of here. He was always so overprotective, he was willing to murder my fa-Clint just to get back at him.

"I'll kill him! Stay here, I'll be right back-"

I warily glance at Loki again. His emotions are all over the place. Anger, frustration, remorse, hate, sadness, longing, grief...I can't piece him together nor do I want to. He's insane. He's supposed to be dead. Thor told me what happened with Jane on Asgard. How Loki took the blade for him and "died with honor". Ha to that.

But, I've been with him for three days and he's done nothing. Just sat there and stared as blankly as I feel. I can't look at him and see an insane man, but I should. He's evil. He's like Ultron. If he hadn't brought that stupid scepter to earth then I wouldn't be here, Pietro would still be-

Hours pass in silence.

We sit together without Loki doing anything else. He tears the bread apart bit by bit and gradually destroys the entire thing together. Whoever is in charge of cleaning up the cells is going to love him. Loki doesn't make any movements to harm me and as much as I hate it; his presence is slightly comforting.

It's better than being alone with the thoughts. The choking empty blackness that claims all who venture towards it as it's own. And I hate it. I hate that I like him being here that no matter how hard I try the thought of being alone terrifies me. I don't want him here but I do.

It's not right, not...sane.

What hero wants their enemy with them?

Drip, drip, drip.

The water leaks again and the ground is growing steadily wetter save around Loki. Near where his feet are spread out in front of him is lightly frosted over. I don't understand but I'm trying not to think about it. He can't use magic here, they wouldn't allow it, right? If he's a prisoner, as he said he is then he can't.

Loki dips his fingers into the water again and gazes at me. I tear my gaze away from him stubbornly staring at the far wall. It's more interesting, less threatening and doesn't make me so stupidly conflicted.

Loki traces two more words onto the ground when it finally dries and I glance at them.

'I'm sorry.'

Anger surges through me.

How dare he be sorry. How dare he!

He dragged our world into war on purpose, he tried to subjugate us and laughed as he did so. I need to break something, feel it shattering between my fingertips and pouring onto the ground at my feet. He has to right to be sorry when he wanted it!

Drip, drip, drip.

I can sense his gaze on me, it's unwavering and I can feel that he's studying me. I force my expression to be blank because I don't want him to know. I'm staring furiously at the wall across from me though, no matter how hard I try I can't keep the anger off of my face. He wanted it.

So did you.

The voice is small and quiet and sounds unmistakably like Pietro's.

My furious thoughts come to a skidding un-majestic halt and I freeze. I wanted Ultron to succeed, but I regret it now. I fought to make things right, to change.

But he-

Hasn't done anything, beyond try to help you.

I bite my lip and look down at my feet. I don't trust him, but I won't reject him.

I look up slowly towards him and almost immediately he meets my gaze but quickly looks down. Like a wildfire that's been put out. He doesn't seem to concerned about anything, just blank, empty and tired.

Like me.

Wanda!

I can't look at him and see the deranged man I was promised when I asked.

I look at him, and I see...myself.

Time passes by slowly and as the hours drag onwards I can feel exhaustion dripping over me like an unhappy raincloud; I blink tiredly. It isn't sudden, I've been ignoring it since before Loki got here. It's strange having someone else in the cell, a living, breathing, being. Not just empty, not just my head. Sleep. I want sleep. Sleep is impossible. But I'm so tired...my eyes are heavy. Maybe just for a little…

I drop to the ground in a swift movement the collar reacting instantly. The threads of pain do little to dampen the tiredness though it should. I see Loki glance over at me his green eyes watching me with an expression I can't-nor feel any willpower or desire to-read. I close my eyes and let sleep claim me.

000o000

Loki,

I am no stranger to rejection.

It is an unwelcome blanket that wraps around me tightly, impossible to breathe or to move. I'm trapped in an endless repetition of the process over and over. Again and again. It. Never. Stops.

I shouldn't be surprised anymore, the very mention of my name is enough to send people running for all their leg muscles are worth. Enough to flee, enough to hide, because I am dangerous. I am the danger. The villain. Who wants to reconcile with one such as I? Wants to help them, to mend their wounds and collect all their broken pieces then put them back together?

No one.

I am alone.

I didn't ask for it, I didn't want it, yet I have it all the same. I'm not in danger, I am the danger. Always, forever.

It hurts, sometimes, knowing that no matter how hard I try, I'm never going to be good enough for anyone. I never was. Always the trickster, the liar, the younger, the magician, the weakling. If I knew what was going to happen to me all those years ago on the day before Thor's coronation, I would have happily stayed in bed the whole day, maybe even for the next month.

If there is anything I have learned through the last few years it is that I am an idiot.

As stupidly childish as it is, I want to jump to my feet and scream "It's not fair!" at the top my lungs. Let the whole universe know that I don't like what happened. I tried to be better, I tried and I tried and I tried but I failed and failed and failed. I went with Thor and Jane in effort to avenge Mother and in return, I died.

I can still feel the blade sinking into my skin, Thor's large hands against my head and shoulders as he tries to keep my grounded but fails. His blurry form through my tears of pain, agony and realization that I am going to die. I thought I was going to when I let go of Gungnir; it would have been my fate anyway. Treason to the throne that I never betrayed. I was acting as regent not king.

"I didn't do it for him."

And falling asleep. He left me there, to die, or maybe I already was.

There was only pain, and the storm wracking my broken body into breathing again, restarted my heart and forced me back into the world of living. I had nowhere else to go, I don't know how long I lied there, death trying to take me but my body fighting it. Weeks, months...I don't know. When I awoke, Thor was gone, Jane was gone, Asgard was a distant memory and I was in pain yet fled.

And now? Now I am here, muzzled and to weak to even turn the cell an obnoxious pink, they've drained me over and over to the point of death and dragged me back. I've tried escaping over a dozen times and every time I've failed.

I want to go home.

But I don't have one.

There's an ache on where it used to be, a sense of security knowing that everything is going to be okay. Without it, there's only emptiness a blankness where they should be. I want to collapse in Frigga's arms and let her hold me, because yes, I am pathetic. To the point that I want my mother. They want my powers, my energy, and information that I refuse to give. I may hate Asgard, but only I am allowed to watch it burn. I died for it, didn't I?

And they hate it, torture upon torture layered like a second skin of pain.

I haven't spoken in months now, because, I am unworthy of speech. If I will not tell them what they want to know, I should not speak at all. It's akin to being there all over again with him trying to dig into my head and their haunting laughter.

These...humans, these monsters are no better than him. There isn't much of my mind to break after he went through and played with it. Everything was blurry and hazy for months upon months until the memories started coming back.

Wanda lets out a small moan of pain or fear and I drift lazily back into the world of the living and away from my wandering thoughts. My hands lay limply in my lap my shacked one pulsing, my legs are spread outwards in front of me one leg tucked under my knee. My bare feet are so pale they stand out against the darkness as much as Wanda's. I glance at the Midgardian.

She's laying on her side looking in pain and still tired though she's sleeping. Her long brown hair is spread across her back and stomach like a blanket and her black prisoner clothes seem to make her blend into the ground. She doesn't look like she's resting but I can hear steady breaths.

Wanda is...different then most humans I've met. Beyond the Avengers there's been few that haven't been painfully arrogant or cruel. She's much younger than anyone else in the base that I've seen and I've been here for months.

It's been closer to a total of five days since I was tossed in the cell with her, the first three were rather pleasant. She did little else than stare but when she asked for my name...she's been distant and hostile looking at me like I might reach out and snap her neck when she blinks.

I wouldn't.

There are many people on my to-punch list but she doesn't rank on it. Or at least very low. She's enhanced, powerful and will make a powerful ally to the Avengers if she ever gets out of here. From this standpoint, it looks like both of us will be here till we're dead. I've tried dozens of times but every time has failed with consequences I bare little appreciation for.

I don't know much about her beyond what I've learned here, I know that she helped stopped the 'Ultron' incident and that she was made an official member of the Avengers but that's it.

They made me watch it.

Said that I too will have freedom to cause chaos like it when I'm trained enough.

It made me angry.

I hated it because I had to see them and everything they've risen up to be well I've been tossed from cell to cell and rotted. Thor was there, I wanted to scream at him yet beg him to find me all the same. I want out. He's not coming for me.

Why would he?

Wanda hair is a tangled mess, it looks worse than Thor's after battle. The collar is still flashing a small red glow every few minutes, I can see it pulsing beneath her long tangled locks. I hate it. It's mockery to me. They throw me in here with an Avenger, and torture her with something that means safety to me. Because no matter how hard I try lightning has always meant that Thor is near and Thor can protect me.

He wouldn't anymore.

I'm sorry, Thor! I'm sorry!

I want him to find me, take me back to Asgard-I don't care just don't leave me here!

I tilt my head back tirely and close my eyes. I haven't slept in days watching Wanda, she was a potential threat from the beginning but she didn't do anything, every movement causes her pain. It's cruelty. She seemed wary of me, though I can do little more frighten dust right now.

They'll be coming soon.

Only to take.

To steal.

Thieves.

I focus strongly on the dim light coming through the doorway. I can't stand looking at the blackness-it so much like to void where there was nothing and it was suffocating but there was no one to scream out to. Just empty. Blackness seeping in corners, always there, always beating like a heart like the pain. Persistent. Powerful.

And when the darkness went away, there was only pain.

Wanda is waking gradually, I can see her fingers twitching before she slowly opens her eyes. She doesn't move just lays there as if her limbs are too heavy for her to lift. Her hands look terrible. The sloppy bandaging does little to cover the vast burn marks running up and down them, along with what look like long cuts.

She slowly moves her gaze towards me and blinks a few times. I offer her a small dip of my head in greeting and she scowls in answer. Ah, the fire in this one is burning brightly a brim filled bucket that I'd love to kick on any other occasion.

She bites her lip for a moment before meeting my dead gaze again, "How long have I been asleep?"

Three hundred years, two hours and six seconds-I don't know I wasn't counting. I do a quick rough estimation in my head and lift up all my fingers for around ten hours. It was more like fifteen but I don't have that many hands. A spark of pain springs through the shackled one and I bite on my tongue. Not as if she'd hear the hiss anyway.

She licks her chapped lips and I lower my hands staring at the door again. Wanda is still looking at me, with a look I know all the well. Fear. Anger. Distrust. It was better when she didn't know my identity. That's all I am.

A monster.

A villain.

A liar.

I can see it, shining through so visibly I'm blind because I missed it. My father saw and tasted it. My mother as well before her death, as does Thor. He saw, he knew it, and he hated it. What else can I be? I am no hero, I am a king without a kingdom and a prince without a title.

Yet Wanda...if only for a few days gave me hope. She treated me like an equal. Not a wild animal. I can see it in her eyes, the glimmer of hopelessness. It makes me furious because she didn't think wrongly of me until I said my name to her, I was just another person. Another prisoner. The first person in years to think so of me. Frigga did, before her death, and I killed her. I want to start over, to relive the coronation without doing something so daft.

Hope is such a slippery thing.

Wanda gives a soft groan and closes her eyes tightly. Headache? I'm not sure. After I told her my name yesterday, she went into a trance-like state and screamed tugging at her hair. I didn't like it. I tried to stop it but it didn't help.

I'm not sure what it is that's causing it.

She's falling asleep again, her body to exhausted to deal with anything. I really hate this feeling that's growing inside me, the ache for Thor's loud voice and Frigga's soft voice. The need to trade everything for just one yesterday, when everything was okay before it all fell apart at my feet.

Longing.

I despise it.

I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them tightly as I can. Almost like pulling hard enough will make my thoughts go away. Numb everything.

Wanda's asleep again, her hands are lax and her expression soft. She looks so young when she's sleeping as if she actually matches her age. I release a shaky breath through my nose and drop my head onto my knees. I subconsciously trace my fingers over the muzzle trying to tug at it. It doesn't shift or come off. Only Hydra has that key.

I glance at Wanda again. Her breathing is shaky and broken and I rest my head on my knees. I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I want to sleep.

When-not if, I escape this prison of despair, these walls of pain and anger, I am going to take her with me. I'll piece her broken pieces back together so she doesn't end up like me.

A monster.

Chapter Three:

Wanda Maximoff,

"Pietro, why do the stars twinkle?" Pietro hums and turns to look back at me and away from the book he's been attempting to read for the last few hours. He hasn't gotten very far, neither one of us can read. Mother said she and Father were going to try and pull up enough money for school this year. They said that last year, though. Maybe me and Pietro will just be idiots forever.

I don't wanna be stupid!

Mother looks up from where she's sitting next to Pietro and waves me forward towards them. Pietro returns to the book's pages his eyebrows meeting as he concentrates. "Come here for a moment." Mother commands. I quickly roll over excitement pulsing through me because they're finally listening to me. Mother has been nodding every now and then to what I say but she's been focused on teaching Pietro that she hasn't been paying too much attention. They've ignoring me on and off for hours now and I'm so frustrated!

I scramble up the rest of the hill and plop down next to her beside the broken building and Pietro lifts his head slightly from his book as Mother lifts up her left hand up pointing, "Do you see that star over there?" She asks and I nod.

"Yes,"

"Good, now follow it to right there," She grabs my hand and pushes it in the right direction. I follow her sight trying to see what she's showing me. All I can see is the starts winking back at me. It's making me frustrated! It's dumb!

Pietro lifts up his hand and points towards a large dark patch, "Right there," he insists and I frown.

"Pietro…" I whine slightly. I can't see it. What either of them are trying to show me. "There's nothing there, you're not even pointing at a star."

Pietro smirks and gives a small laugh, "Exactly."

My eyebrows meet in confusion and I let my hand drop before smacking his arm, "It isn't funny. Just answer my question."

Mother laughs and wraps a hand around both of our shoulders, "Alright, Ma'am." She teases, "As I was showing you before your brother rudely interrupted, stars are people who've died and left people they love behind. The glowing is the love they have for them."

My eyes widen, "But what about the bad guys? They don't love anyone."

Mother shakes her head, "Not exactly, sometimes it's the people who loved them that shines. Stars twinkle to give us hope." Mother says and I stare up at the sky breathing in. The millions of lights shine back and me.

"Whoa. Pietro, why is there dark spots then? If stars are hope." I ask and look at my older brother. He looks up from the book he picked up again and purses his lips. Mother hides a smile behind her hand as Pietro shrugs looking like doesn't want to be in the limelight.

"I dunno, maybe because life doesn't always have hope. Sometimes it's dark for a while."

I frown, "But I don't want dark spots." I turn back to Mother, "Can I just have the light, please?"

Mother smiles sadly, "Sometimes the sweetest things come from the most terrible situations."

I blink my eyes open staring up at the dark ceiling blankly. I don't know what triggered the memory, it's one of the sweeter ones from my childhood that I got to actually spend with Mother. She was often busy working to with my Father to feed our small family. I miss her. And my father. And Pietro, but they're gone now and it's just me.

I don't think I've ever been more frustrated.

Period.

It's a never ending conflict of emotions so twisted and broken that it's impossible to sort through logically. I would love it if someone just grabbed my head and smacked it against something, I'm nearing the point of doing myself. What am I supposed to do? Cry? I can't cry. I haven't cried since Pietro's death and funeral. It just builds up in a pathetic ball in my throat that really only makes me feel worse.

The ceiling, has never been more interesting. The dark concrete is cracked down the middle and I'm pretty sure if someone jumps on the floor above us just right it's going to snap and bury us alive. Maybe it's below a river, the puddle would make sense. I haven't moved much since I got to this particular cell and didn't really look at it.

Drip, drip, drip.

I wonder if the people who build this know their building cells or they just think it's rooms. This building is older, though, so I would guess it was built by the original Hydra. I don't really care, though, but I have little else to think about. I'm laying on my back hands across my stomach and my legs spread outwards. The position isn't exactly comfortable, I've always been someone who lays on their side curled when they sleep, Pietro too. But if I'm on my side I can still see across the cell and see him.

It's extremely childish and Pietro would raise his eyebrow to my behavior, but I just don't want to look at him. Because the more I look at him the more I pity him and he's the bad guy and the good guys don't have any desire to help the bad guys.

I hate how much solstice I gain from his presence, just knowing that I'm not by myself in the room and it drives me utterly mad. He's not a good guy, he won't help me if the chance arouses, he'll kill me on the spot when he gets the first opportunity and I shouldn't find comfort in the fact he's here.

I think there's something wrong with me.

None of the other Avengers would've stayed captured this long, or had Loki tossed in as their cellmate and not recognized him for three. Days. No, not me, I'm just the weak link that broke off and they let go. They're never coming for me. Why would they? After all I've done, convincing Tony do something drastic that turned into Ultron. I started it.

The most frustrating part is that after everything was over and they took me with them, I felt like I was at home. Obviously, they didn't think the same.

Are they even looking for me?

I release a heavy breath and close my eyes. Loki is breathing softly a few feet away and it would be silent if not for the heavy stretch of empty between us. After I woke up, I haven't talked to him and he hasn't made any move to engage conversation. I'm trying to avoid him, admittedly, the realization of him reminding me of me is terrifying.

I wish I could leave.

This is Hyrda's most creative method of torture yet.

Maybe I can convince them I've joined their side just so I can get out of this stupid room. But I'm done being attached to their stupid strings, Pietro and I snipped them when the Avenger's attacked Strucker's base.

A rather sharp blast of pain smacks through my brain suddenly and I let out a small groan of pain. If I didn't have the collar on, I would rub my temples then smack my head against a wall in frustration before rubbing the headache again. I hate the collar, I hate everything about being here.

There is no light, there is no stars there is just pain and tears.

I purse my lips tightly together and my gaze shifts slightly left as Loki rises to his feet moving for the first time in days. I tense, panic starting to flutter through me like a wave. Please no, please no, please no. I've come to far to just die now. I want to apologize to the Avengers, make them see that I am sorry! It can't just end now.

Oh, gosh, Pietro! I need you!

Loki's bare feet pass me and my spine is so tense it's starting to ache. I follow him with my gaze. His posture is slightly defeated but he clasps his hands behind his back and seems to draw himself together mentally before turning and...passing me again.

Huh.

No murder attempts, no sneering, no...nothing. It's just like Kat. Which is ridiculous, because this is Loki and not my nicknamed friend who I immediately felt attachment to because he was simply just another prisoner. Another strange one. Another broken one.

I purse my lips tighter at the thought and clench my fists, digging my fingernails into my bruised and wounded palms deeply. It hurts, obviously, but I don't focus on it. Loki passes me again, his bare feet making a padded sound across the ground. I'm still watching him with my eyes.

I didn't realize how tall he is until now. He must be over six feet, taller than I am by several inches. His dark hair is falling past his shoulders and looks rather ratty and tangled. A mess of knotted curls and waves. It will be painful to remove. Oh, because hair is the biggest issue right now, Wanda.

My lips are starting to go numb from how tightly I'm pursing them, but I can't bring myself to care all too much. Loki turns and passes by me again disappearing from my line of site and passing by the puddle, I can hear the faint sound of his feet touching the water, it doesn't splash but the room is silent beyond Loki's pacing. He could've set off a bomb and it would have had the same effect.

Loki passes me again and I ignore him this time returning my gaze to the ceiling. You make no move to kill me and I won't watch you. I assure him mentally. The cracks spread out across the top of the ceiling like a spiderweb. Stretching and pursuing some imaginary thing. If I could use my powers, I would rip the ceiling apart, reach for daylight. Though I'll never touch it.

I close my eyes slightly as another wave of pain passes through my sudden headache. It's ignorable but trying with might to make itself the full focus of my attention. It's getting there. Everything hurts.

My head, my stomach, my hands. Everything.

I release the purse on my lips and a small gasp of pain slips through them instead of air. Loki stops his pacing coming to a halt at my feet. I meet his eyes with a cold stare. I wish he would just stop pretending.

Why can't he just give up the act of I'm-your-friend, and let me know that we're enemies. I would like it, a lot. Is it just too hard for him to realize that we are not friends. Pretend or not.

My head is pulsing through, the headache has been building since I woke up.

Loki tilts his head slightly staring at me with his deep green eyes. I hate his stare. It's like he can read me like an open book and no one was or is allowed to do that but Pietro...and my other family. But they're not.

His gaze is quizzical and I clench my jaw for a moment. I'm seeing faint double, again. This is worse than the blur. A bit of Loki's dark hair falls over his muzzle and he switches his piercing stare from me to the hair, glaring. It hits me, he was asking a question. Asking what's wrong.

How does one strangle someone without being able to move?

"It is none of your business." I grit through my tightly clenched jaw. My voice is barely above a whisper but the way it bounces off the walls sounds like I yelled it. My headache picks up vigor.

Loki gives a small huff of annoyance and turns beginning to pace again. I squeeze my eyes shut breathing slowly but shallowing. Ah, it hurts. Why does it hurt so bad?

A loud clang echoes through the air and I jump hissing as the collar speaks and I turn my sight towards the door from my position in the corner. Loki stops pacing and his hands slip away from his back coming to fists next to his sides. Voices are talking outside the cell doors in the hallway. Do they have to be so loud. Are they screaming!?

Loki glances at me again and I meet his gaze for a moment before the key our cell door is shoved into the lock. Dread rushes through me. No, no, no. Not now, not so soon. Please!

The door is thrown open and light blares into the room like an explosion. The sudden brightness shoves into my head and my headache increases a tenfold. I let out a nearly silent breath of pain that Loki's fingers clench tighter for. The man has incredible hearing-Wanda, focus.

I blink rapidly trying to get my eyes to adjust to the light and my brain to stop ripping itself apart. The ache is pounding and suddenly all I can focus on. Headaches don't hurt this much, usually, right? Everything is making it worse, movement, light sound, even breathing. Am I breathing? No, no I'm not. What if something's happening? Did they poison me? Is Loki in my head?

In.

Out.

Breathe.

Ouch.

Pain.

This hurts.

Focus.

But everything's so blurry!
Wanda!

I exhale a sharp breath of air before turning my gaze back to Tive and his party. Loki's shadow falls over me like a blanket and it blocks some of the light from my sight. I steal the best glare I can onto my face at the sight of Tive, it's really not hard just painful. Tive smirks at me, then turns his gaze to Loki giving a large smile.

"My, my," He says and takes a step into the room. Loki's body goes rigid and I can feel the waves of anger weaving off of him. Loki is furious. There's a small smidge of fear there too, along with dozens of other emotions swirling past too fast to focus on.

Tive's short dark hair blends in with the cell walls making him seep into the shadows as if he belongs there. Tive's eyebrows meet and he gives a pouty face. "Oh, and here I thought that you two were just bosom friends in the making."

I curl my lips in disgust. Him. Me? Loki. As in Loki the mass murderer and would be world-conquerer. Yes. Bosom.

Tive smirks again as neither of us make a move to reply. Loki is watching the man with a promise of death in his eyes. It unnerves me. He clearly has plans for this man's very painful death (that I really wouldn't mind pitching in on) but he's never given that look to me. Why? Aren't I his enemy? An Avenger...or maybe not. Was I ever part of the team? Did they just want me because of my power? Why is always the power!?

Tive tilts his head and stares at us for another moment before giving a sigh and rolling his eyes, "You are both such precious assets to me. It's great fun breaking your spirits. Come," Tive turns back to the men and the six others step into the small cell. Loki rocks on his heels like he wants, terribly to take a step backward but his stubbornness or just plain stupidity aren't letting him.

Tive turns his gaze back to me, "My dearest, Witch," he says and I gnaw on my inner lip keeping the disgusted look on my face. I don't know what's worse, when he calls me by my real name or his "pet names". I hate them both. I wish he wouldn't call me anything.

Tive waves his men forward and three of them move swiftly towards Loki and small panic starts to build up in my stomach. No, no, no, please don't take him! I've been good! I haven't tried to escape or mess with any of the minds of the guards recently, I've let them experiment, oh please no! Don't take him!

One of the guards grabs the back of Loki's hair and tugs pressing the barrel of a gun against his chin in a swift movement the edge of the gun pushing against the edge of the muzzle. Loki tenses his eyes furious but doesn't move. Tive turns and nods, "Good, you move, my prince and he'll shoot. I have her." Tive says and looks back and me smiling.

"Wanda, Wanda," he says and sighs heavy disappointment slipping into his voice. "I've been hearing that you haven't been eating. This just isn't acceptable, we can't have you dying out on us when we're so close to finishing our project, can we?"

I don't answer. It's rhetorical anyway.

Ha, if you wanted me to eat you really should have thought about that before you put a shock collar on me. Tive lifts up his hand remote in hand and flips a switch. Immediately, I feel most of the fuzziness leak out of my brain. My headache is still there, but it's nowhere near as bad as before.

I blink rapidly and shake my head a little. It's off. The collar is off!

Tive lifts up the remote, "Let me make this absolutely clear to you, Witch. You try anything and he shoots Loki," Tive points to the man that has Loki grabbed by his hair. "You so much as breathe in a way we don't like and he gets a bullet to the brain. You know, his brother survived a drop from the thirty thousand feet, I've been dying to see what happens when they get a bullet in the brain. You try anything and he pays."

I sit up and rub my neck slightly glancing at Loki's gaunt form. I purse my lips before turning my head back to my captor, "Why should I care? It matters little to me if he lives or dies." I say. But it does. Because if he dies, I'm alone again. I can't face the darkness anymore by myself.

"Oh, sweetheart you are adorable." Tive says smiling. He moves forward and kneels down next to me. "You're an Avenger, right? Your job is to save people, or are you just part time? He dies, that's on you. Just like your brother."

I flinch closing my eyes.

Pietro's death is my fault.

I refuse to let another's fall on my head. I grit my teeth, "Fine, what is it you want?"

Tive waves another man forward carrying a water bottle and a bowl of a mushy looking oatmeal. Tive takes the water bottle and puts it at my feet. "Everything gone. Remember, Maximoff, one move."

I glance at Loki again biting my lower lip. The barrel of the gun is digging into his chin in what looks like a painful manner, I can see it laced through his eyes. I just want to know what he hasn't killed me-I'm free. Without the collar, I can use my abilities. I can see.

Shoving down the excitement that's suddenly pulsing through me, I turn back to the mushy oatmeal and water. The thought of food makes my stomach churn in a painful unwanted way. The water doesn't look any more appealing. The gun is still waiting taunting me with disagreeing. In the past I would've, everything they feed is drugged but this isn't just my life on the line anymore. Augh! Why can't there just be a simple line of black and white? Everything is blurred. I don't want to help Loki. But I don't want him dead either.

I clench my jaw for a moment.

Fine.

I grab the water bottle and unscrew the top before tipping my head back and drinking from it. It tastes faintly of bleach and vinegar but it's cold and the feeling is amazing. I forgot how much I missed it. The water stops coming and I shove down the sparks of disappointment that leach outwards.

I set the empty plastic bottle down and glance at the oatmeal. Ugh, nothing has ever looked far less appealing. Save maybe the one time that Pietro baked a loaf of bread. It was nasty. I purse my lips together tightly before picking up the bowl and bringing the spoon to my lips. I can feel everyone's gaze on me. I don't like it. I've never been one for being the center of attention, that was always Pietro.

The oatmeal, surprisingly, tastes worse than it looks. Similar to the smell of sweat, a sewer, and a severe case of mold.

Mhmm. This tastes like garbage.

I barely make it past my gag reflex with the first spoonful and swallow. It attempts to come back up almost immediately and I stuff the vomit down my throat again.

I look down at the rest of the bowl fighting back a small cry of disgust. I know that often people who haven't eaten in awhile can stuff anything down without tasting it but this...this is physically rejected by every single taste bud I have. I shove another spoonful into my mouth and work with extreme effort to keep my expression neutral.

After a fairly painful three minutes the last bite of the unnaturally gross oatmeal is finished and I lift the empty bowl it up to my lips as if I'm starving and looking for more. I can see Tive giving a small smirk from my peripheral vision but I'm more focused on Loki.

But you, will tear them apart.

I let my fingers slide the magic connecting with them so relieving, a bundled up knot in my chest relaxing. It's tempting to let more out but I withhold and the red light streaks across the room and into Loki's head in a little less than two seconds. Tive lets out a shout of warning but everything is fading.

Memories are slipping inwards and blurring to quickly to make any sense of. Screaming, laughter, pain, anger, frustration, hopelessness, panic, blurs of color streaking past but everything is slowly merging into one thing, a singularity, a fear.

My power hums with excitement.

Loki's mental blocks are screaming and pushing back but it slips. I've broken through, his fears are mine.

Everything is dark.

A choking blackness that can only follow through when there's absolutely nothing. There is no air, no breath, nothing just falling and falling.

The ground hits, suddenly and Loki gasps in pain his fingers curling into the stone of a large throne room. Loki sits up and stares around the room his head tilting slightly. I tilt my head in curiosity, watching him.

"Loki," Loki's on his feet suddenly and whirls turning to look back at a tall woman. Her long blonde hair is falling down her back in faint waves with the upper half tucked around her head. Loki's eyes widen.

"You're dead." He gasps. It's the first time I've heard his voice. It sounds so...him. His accent faintly British, yet mixed faintly with another country. Asgard, right.

The woman, Frigga smiles, "Oh, darling, isn't that what you wanted?"

Loki's eyes widen further, "No, Mother, please, I'm sorry."

Frigga's smile widens and she shakes her head, "I'm not your mother. I never was."

Loki backs up, "This isn't real, you're dead, Thor was at your funeral."

"And you created his." Frigga grins and moves towards her son. At Loki's horrified look her lips curve into a pout, "Isn't that what you wanted, Loki? Thor and Odin dead at your feet? You plotted for years and planned revenge. Well we all knew you would betray us; it was only a matter of time. But this is what you wanted, isn't it? Odin and Thor dead, by your hand?"

"N-no, not Thor…" Loki gasps his voice growing smaller.

Frigga's expression darkens and she grabs his neck twisting his head right, "See where your lies lead you, Deceptor. See where your anger goes!" She yells. Loki gasps and makes a move to take a step back from the scene but can't from his mother's firm grip.

The throne room is destroyed, Asgard lay in ruins from the windows I can see. In Loki's hand is a single dagger. Loki's eyes are drawn downwards and he chokes. Thor's empty, lifeless eyes look up at him. Loki drops to his knees and grabs his brother's hand breathing heavy. "I'm sorry, Brother! I didn't mean to, I'll make this right. I'll make it better, I promise!"

Thor flinches, his face blank, "No, you won't." He says softly. Loki looks down and shakes his head.

"Brother, please…"

"You're a liar and a fraud, everything you tell to people, everything you build up, your nothing! You lie and cheat in the service of a liar and cheater. You pathetic Frost Giant! Look at me!" Thor shouts, "I am dead, because of you! You'll never do enough!"

Loki pulls back from the blond and rises to his feet eyes wide, blinking rapidly. His green irises quickly jump from anything to everything in the room before landing at Odin a dozen or so feet away.

"Father?" He questions softly. Loki moves forward, Frigga trailing after him looking at her son with disappointment. Odin opens his eyes and stares at his adopted son, "Who did this to you?" Loki asks softly leaning down to touch the wound at the old man's chest.

"You."

Loki shakes his head, "No,"

"I should have left you to die."

Loki turns his head to his mother desperately in comfort. She sneers at him, "You see this, Frost Giant? All you lead to is death. He is coming and he will rip you apart, like you deserve, you need nothing less. You murdered me!"

"Mother-"

"I am not your mother, you fool! No one wants you!"

Frigga shoves at him and Loki falls backwards but instead of hitting the ground the images blur to the blackness again. Loki cries out desperately before he plunges forward falling and falling through the stars and gasping but unable to breathe, "Someone help me, please!" He cries.

But no one comes.

He just falls and falls.

And falls.

Pain explodes across my head and chest and I pull back from Loki's mind a small scream slipping through my throat. The agony slides through every cell before it redraws suddenly. I gasp for breath blinking rapidly back tears. I push a hand against my forehead ignoring another wave of pain before glancing up at Loki. He's eyes are wide and red-misted as he stares forward blankly not seeing anything but lost in his mind.

My brain scrambles to make sense of the dream. The blankness I don't understand but his family...I've never met Frigga yet she was pulled from memories. She seems like a kind woman...focus. Loki is…

Loki is afraid of rejection. That after everything he does, everything he pushes forward it will never be enough. He's afraid of darkness, I don't understand why or how.

A hand wraps around my throat and the collar and I'm dragged to my feet and off the ground as Tive glares at me looking truly furious. "What did you do?" He hisses. He's going to kill me. I squeeze my eyes shut my hands moving subconsciously to pull at his hand.

He shakes me, "What did you do! Answer me!"

My breath is coming short, "I...showed him what he feared." I gasp, my voice small. Please don't hurt me, please don't take him away.

Tive drops me to the ground and my feet collapse immediately my back hitting the hard floor and I bite back tears at the pain. Tive kicks my stomach in anger and I curl inwards on myself covering my head with my hand.

"Should we just shoot him, Sir?"

No!

I can feel Tive's gaze on me. "No, leave him. His anger should be enough punishment. Tive turns to look back at me and sighs, "Wanda, I don't want to punish you, but you did a bad thing. Do you understand that?" He says it slowly. I'm not five, nor an idiot. Yes. I get it.

I nod anyway flinching as the collar sparks. My eyes squeeze shut with tears but I don't move from my curled position. Tive rises to his feet and gathers the empty bowl and water bottle before he and his party leave in silence.

I lift my hand away from my face and look back at Loki. The red is wearing off and Loki's head is still rocking side to side as if he isn't seeing anything yet everything. I bite my lip and inwardly smack myself. Loki will definitely kill me know. I snuck into his head without his permission and pulled his worst fear away from the depths of his mind and made him watch it.

Wow, you're really going to build friendships like that.

We are not friends nor any form of acquaintances...

The red finally seeps from his eyes and Loki stares down at his hands, his palms are shaking and his eyes wide and panicked. He stares at them blinking several times before Loki pulls his knees up close to his chest before leans his face on them. Though he's silent, and the darkness overpowers almost everything, I can see the glint of tears slipping down his cheeks.

...Then why do I feel so guilty?

---

Original Plan, chaotic, be forewarned:

-Loki never left Thanos and has spent the last six(ish) years in his service.

-Thanos decides to begin his conquest with the destruction of Asgard and Loki is sent with Midnight to collect the Mind Stone and kill any that stand in the way

-Wanda and Pietro were dragged to the Barton household to celebrate Lila's sixth birthday with the rest of the Avengers.

-Things still tense between everyone, despite the pardons. First time Steve and Tony have been in the same room that wasn't a forced political discussion.

-Tony dragged Peter along for moral support

-Vision asked Pietro for permission to marry his sister. Pietro was at first like "haha-no", but complied because he knew it would make Wanda happy. Keeps waiting for the big question and waiting for Vision to steal his sister

-The party goes about as well as expected, Steve and Tony get into a quiet, but abrupt brawl and Tony storms off

-not Lila's actual birthday, the next day

-Most of the Avengers part ways, but Nat, Vis, Wanda and Pietro stay overnight.

-Vision hears something in the barn and gets up, Wanda follows after him and they see nothing. Vision turns around "I have been meaning to ask" before a spear shoves him through the middle and then there's a brief scuffle

-When Pietro, Nat, and Clint start to make a defense, Loki calls for them to return back to the ship and Wanda jumps into the beam.

-Vision dragged to Thanos when removing the stone proves unsuccessful and Thanos pulls it from his skull directly.

-Loki holds Wanda back and throws her in the cell sobbing

-Loki put in charge of her. Midnight opts out, insisting that Loki was the one who wanted to drag her in the first place.

-Thanos puts him in charge of figuring out how the magic was merged with her blood and Loki prepares himself for the long task.

-Asks basic questions about how she got her powers.

-Wanda isn't interested in answering. Apathetic. Only asks if Vision received some sort of funeral. He didn't.

-Loki doesn't learn nearly as much information as Thanos would like. Eventually comes to the conclusion that the powers she received were not quite like the Mind Stone. Thanos concludes her useless, and orders him to kill her.

-Loki refuses and drops the block on her magic so she can defend herself.

-The Other grabs hold of Loki and is wholly prepared to drag him back for more "training", but Wanda steps up for his defense. A life for a life kind of circumstance. She easily defends herself and casts the "worst fears" thing.

-Thanos uses the power stone on her head and it causes all sorts of problems

-Thanos says that she may not have served her intended purpose, but she could be useful otherwise. Leaves her alive. Nebula vouches for Loki, practically begging Thanos to leave him alone.

-Thanos leaves Loki there. Says that if Loki even dips a fingernail out of line, he's as good as gone. Loki is devastated. Worked so hard to get on Thanos's good graces and it means nothing.

-Thanos says that leaving Loki here for a couple of weeks would do him good. Has the muzzle put on because it will "remind him how he needs to be more careful with his words."

-Wanda feels terrible. Even as angry as she is with him, its her fault that he's in here with her now. Loki is an apathetic mass. Wanda watches him slowly deteriorate for several days before she attempts to reach out.

-She cast the spell and attempted to make a break for it. Loki got hit by it as well.

-Wanda's attempts succeed after a while, and she asks for his name. Loki traces his name on the floor with water.

-Nebula arrives after about ten days and says that they need Loki's help with something. Wanda is left alone as Loki helps Nebula and the others begin to wade through Asgard's destruction for the Tesseract.

-Eventually they find it, and Nebula stops Loki from telling Thanos. Instead, she says that he needs to take it and Wanda and leave. Loki startled and Nebula admits she and Gamora's plan. Says that everything resides with him because he's not who he thinks he is.

-Loki asks what she means

-Nebula points out at the rubble and says that it was his home planet. Says they don't have time for questions.

-Nebula says that Thanos only has two more Stones and asks if Loki really wants to watch half the universe wash away.

-Convinces him.

-Loki hides the Tesseract. They return to Thanos and offer their report, but Thanos catches Loki. Loki makes a break for it. He manages to successfully evade the Order and grabs Wanda. As he's using the Tesseract, Ebony shoots a bunch of those prickly needle-things and Loki defends her from it.

-They stagger into the middle of New York.

-Loki, for some reason or another, is thrown into the cell with her

-Wanda is less than happy with this predicament and they have a brief scuffle

-Ebony comes in to touch at Loki's mind and Wanda is surprised by the animosity

-Loki doesn't know what his name is

-Wanda starts referring to him as "Kat" in her head

-Thanos comes in to talk with her when Loki's gone and Wanda asks about him, as Thanos asks about her. Says she was born of the Mind Stone and he's curious how this is so if she's mortal, says he could make her greater

-Wanda is done and says "no" in a less polite way

-Thanos says that she'll change her mind, given time

-Wanda really doubts that

-Loki's sedir is a mess and he doesn't have nearly the control he used to. Keeps hearing people's thoughts or having random bursts of sedir explode outwards.

-Loki comes back from a training episode a bloody mess and Wanda helps patch him back together, asks him why he stays here when he bares scars of worse treatment

-Loki admits he doesn't remember anything before this

-Wanda hesitant but says she might be able to restore some of his memories

-Loki jumps at the opportunity, surprised

-They begin to wade through Asgard's ruins for the Tesseract and Loki remembers Thor's name. Tells Wanda such and says that he thinks something awful happened.

-Loki and Wanda manage to escape, steal one of the small ports and Loki snags the Tesseract as they go, returning back to Earth

-Loki damaged in the escape badly, but they use the Tesseract to make the travel time shorter

-Wanda drags Loki's almost smoldering corpse to her and Pietro's apartment.

-Its been three months since Wanda was taken

-Pietro is a wreck.

-The two of them try to care for Loki, but keep making a mess of the whole affair because tempers are short

-Pietro asks about Wanda and she states flatly that he's dead and they have a larger problem. Says they need to get in contact with the Avengers

-Pietro says that's going to be hard, given the fact that they've upped and vanished

-Wanda's like-wait, what?

-Explains about Thor's distress call and how they hopped in the Quinjet and left, but no one's heard a word since they left

-Wanda asks why he didn't go and Pietro says that he was waiting for her. (He was benched.) The nearest "Avenger" they can get in contact with is Spider-Man or Rhodey.

-Wanda says they need to prepare for an attack.

-Loki says that they'll come for him, sets the Tesseract on the table

-Pietro and Loki's relationship rocky

-They get in contact with Peter and try to come up with a strategy to hide the Tesseract or keep it from Thanos.

-Loki suggests he takes it and runs, but Wanda says that will only get him killed

-Says they need to get in contact with Avengers.

-Dr. Strange dead because Loki and Midnight were there first

-They start doing repairs on the ship and SHIELD shows up.

-Try to take Tesseract but Loki only put illusion out

-Loki trying to get in contact with the guardians "sisters" and manages to get ahold of Nebula.

-Nebula, WHO IS PRETENDING TO BE THANOS'S, says that he's moving for the Soul Stone. Loki says they need to get there first. Asks where Gamora is and Nebula says that Thanos is setting a trap for the Guardians.

-Loki asks Nebula what his actual name is

-They all pile into the ship and head for Vorimir, Peter and Rhodey to. The flight is a mess when Peter says the wrong thing.

-Peter and Rhodey stay back at the ship

-They meet Red Skull and learn the terms. Pietro and Wanda realize that they're the only ones that can complete the mission, whether Wanda jumps for Loki or Pietro. Pietro jumps after a scuffle and Wanda takes the Stone

-Thanos went for the Mind Stone and Time Stone first because they were together. Then he went for the Power Stone, but ASGARD has the Aether because Odin never gave it to the Collector. Sif was tasked with keeping it hidden, but returned when she heard of Hela.

-The Avengers went at Thor's distress call and have been trying to collect the Infinity Stones first.

-Loki and co trying to find the Aether before Thanos does and run smack-first into the Avengers and Guardians looking for Gamora and Thanos

-Tony nearly shoots Peter and then drags him up and is like "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HEre!?"

-Loki and Thor reunite for the first time in six years, but they discuss the stone problem first. They have three of three. Thanos is coming and they need to stop him before he finishes his mission

-Tony says they should wait for Thanos to come to them. They have the advantage, they outnumber him a lot of people to one. How hard can it be?

-Loki protests, saying they should make the advance first, Thanos wouldn't expect them to be so bold. They have Asgard's army.

-Thor protests, saying he's not putting his people in danger unless it's necessary

-Peter Q. suggests that they visit Titan.

-Someone suggests that they split the stones and gaurd them sepretly instead of in one place because that's stupid

-Loki takes the tesseract, Wanda Soul, and Peter takes the Aether, much to Tony's displeasure

-JANE IS HERE, SHE AND THOR MARRIED

-Frigga is also here?

-The team go to Titan and they sit down to wait for the attack

-It comes and Frigga is killed for Loki, she insists that he's her child and she's glad she got to see him one last time

-Loki trades the Tesseract for Thor's life, refusing to let another family member die

-Soul is torn from Wanda as she lay bleeding in the dirt

-Peter is beaten brutally and the Aether stripped from his veins and Tony hovers over his dying body

-The battlefield is a massacre

-Thanos lifts his hand up to snap and Loki stops him, Thanos says something along hte line sof "name, my son, you'd dare to stop me?"

"My name is Loki. I am the son of Frigga." And then he tears the gauntlet off of Thanos and snaps

-Thanos vanishes and they pick up the pieces of what they can

-Hold funeral for the lost

-Story ends with Wanda quietly talking to Pietro's grave. Loki helps her up to her feet

-Sees a streak of blue from the corner of his eye, but assumes it was just the light.