A/N) Finally! Here it is!

Yeah, I know, it took a while, and I had to restart it a couple times, but I did it! I finally managed it! I feel like I did pretty well, but eh. Who knows- my perception is skewed. (Yeah, no kidding).

Anyway, I promised that I would explain why I changed the title now, so here it is: I changed the title because I had this thing going on where the title 'We could be' was actually taken seriously, and each chapter would be named after things that 'You could be'. (The last chapter was going to be 'Heroes' Like from the song, 'Heroes (We could be)') Which inspired me to start this story. (Don't own the song). Unfortunately, a little voice inside my head that I like to call 'Brackets' convinced me that it was a stupid and childish idea. (Are you talking about me? I think she's talking about me, you guys).

I dunno. If you guys like the idea, tell me, but if you don't, we can continue like this.

Also, I'd like to mention that I made two unfinished one shots. They started out okay, but they became a mangled mess afterwards, so I won't be posting them. But, if you wanna read 'em, PM me, and I can E-mail you either (or both) files. You can do what you want with them... Finish 'em, Read 'em, Post 'em as they are. You can do what you want. But note that everyone who asks will get a copy, so if you post them, there might be some similar stories hanging about.

Anyway, enjoy the story!

Chapter four

Six months earlier

Loki stared at his 'mother' in silence. The one who had raised him with love, despite knowing his heratage. His ice giant blood... the blood that ran through his veins. He was no Asgardian, and for fooling him that way, he was sure to pay them back.

But not his mother. She, despite being a different race entirely, cared for him. Even though they all hated him... she cared still. He did not think such a being could exist. He did not think a mother such as this could actually exist, no. But... she did.

Then he wondered... could he use this care and love for himself?

"Mother..." he began, and she looked up from her melancholy thoughts. "Do you love me?"

Slightly confused by the question, she nodded. "Yes, of course... No matter your blood, you are still my son."

Loki shifted his weight onto his other foot, and put on his best innocent look. "If you really love me... then why do you have me locked inside this cell?"

His mother sighed, and turned to look away. Her shoulders were slumped, and she appeared to be thinking deeply about something. Loki saw his chance, and took it. "W-why would someone who loved me keep me locked up like this?"

His mother continued to look away, but he could see her shoulders shaking slightly. He felt bad for doing something like this to her, but if he wanted to escape, this was the only way. He pulled up the kicker. "... Why would a mother... do this to her own son?"

His mother flinched, and raised her hand to her mouth, presumably trying to muffle the sobs. He could still hear them though; each one let off a quake deep in his heart.

"I'm-m sorry!" she cried, turning to look at him with pleading eyes. "I am s-so, so sorry!"

Loki looked up at her, letting some tears fall down his cheeks. Not because what he was saying was emotional, but because his mother -the only one he cared about anymore- was crying. But it improved the performance.

"If... if you really loved me..." He said, fixing his eyes on hers, an unwavering stare that mutually captured both of them. "... You would surely set me free..."

She stared at him in shock, before bursting into tearsand collapsing on the floor. Loki immediately swept over to her, and crouched at her side. She sobbed into his shoulder, and he began to regret his decision slightly. If he had to go through such mental strife to escape, what was the point?

"Yes.." His mother mumbled softly. He couldn't believe his ears. Was she actually agreeing to let him escape? As if to confirm his thoughts, she continued louder. "Yes, alright."

"... I will set you free."

.o0|O|0o.

When Thor had landed on their roof, Tony had been surprised.

He hadn't shown that, of course. This was Tony Stark we're talking about here. (He had a feeling that Romanov had noticed, though).

Thor had, of course, not busted through the extra layers of metal that he had asked JARVIS to lay on top of the building. (What? He liked to be prepared after the Chitauri invasion). He had made a reasonably large dent in some of the thick steel layers, though.

There was a difference between surprised and shocked. He had learned that today. Because, when Thor had said that Loki had escaped the prison, he had been shocked.

He hadn't let that show on his face either. But of course, Romanov had probably still noticed. She was a super ninja/secret agent/I don't give a flying fish spy, after all. Tony smirked at his own joke. (There was no one around to hear its awesomeness, so he had to make the most of it while he could).

Apparently Thor had been searching all of the worlds for Loki, and that was why he had been gone for so long. (Tony had pointed out that it might have gone faster if they had helped, but Thor had been adamant that he could find it with only his people. Turned out he needed their help after all...). Even Heimdall could not see him, which was worrying. Aparently. Tony had never met Heimdall, but Thor seemed to be convinced that he should be able to see everything.

He had not been found in anyof the other worlds, so it was most definate that he was in Midgard. Currently, the Spiderman subject had been transferred to some other S.H.I.E.L.D agents, so that they could focus on Loki.

Tony had been at his laptop ever since, looking at every camera he could find; similar to what they had done before. This time, Tony was surrounded with blue tinted holograms with coloured video from all of the Stark phones and tech. (This included satelites and such).

But now Tony was bored. This was an emotion that he felt reasonably often; he was not a stranger to boredom. It wasn't any less boring, though. Nothing was happening!

Then something caught his eye. It was the recordings of a phone, which he could tell because it was slightly wobbly. Apparently, the person who owned the phone was in some sort of bank. The phone was in a back pocket, and the person was low to the ground, sitting probably.

What was interesting was that there was apparently someone with a gun there. This wasn't unusual, but the person appeared to be shooting up the bank. He was wearing a black balaclava, and a bulletproof vest.

Tony assumed that the person who owned the phone was a hostage of some sort. "JARVIS, gain full access to the phone on screen... 6247." He ordered. It was then that he remembered that he had an actual job to do. "Oh yeah... and let me know if you spot Loki anywhere."

"Right away, sir." Said JARVIS. The screen enlarged to take up the full space of the blue hologram. JARVIS even managed to get the mic in the phone to let them listen in. Tony continued to watch, wondering how it would go. He felt a grin begin to grow on his face when Spiderman appeared on screen.

.o0|O|0o.

Spiderman looked down upon the situation with a smirk. He was in the average, everyday bank. An average, everyday shoot up was going on below him (he was in the air vent), and there was the average, everyday crooks (or crookies, as he liked to call them. Crookies, like cookies). With the average, everyday hostages.

Everything was average, and everyday, but Peter enjoyed beating up over-cocky bad guys. The shock in their eyes never got old.

Peter wondered how he should deal with the situation this time. He always liked to do something different when he rescued hostages, for a bit of variation. When one of the bad guys appeared right below him. His smirk widened as an idea popped into his head.

He quickly and quietly removed the grate he had been looking through, and glanced down at the scene one more time. There appeared to be only three crookies, and the one below him was guarding the hostages, every now and then ointing the butt of the gun at one of them.

One of the other ones was threatening the secretary for money, and the last one was taking out some of the last of the bodyguards. Something Peter had noticed when he looked down at them was that they all had military gear. He pushed the information away for later, but it did seem like they knew what they were doing (for once). Perhaps these people were actual military?

Peter shrugged to himself, and continued with his plan. He fixed a web to the roof of the vent, and attached the other end to himself. Then he started to lower himself down, mission impossible style.

He was well aware of how comical he was being, but he didn't care. In fact, he found himself rather amusing. Hilarious, even.

He silently grabbed the crookie once he was low enough, and sprayed his mouth with web. Then he sprang back up, and attached the guy to the ceiling. He grinned at the man, who was struggling in pure cartoon style, and suppressed a giggle. Then he stowed himself up in the vent again.

Back to the situation below. Crookie number three had finished up with the guards, and had turned around to look at the team mate that Spiderman had just tied up.

"... Hey Dave, where's Joey...?" He asked uncertainly looking around. Spiderman snorted amusedly. It was amazing how many people never looked up.

'Dave' (or crookie number two) looked up from what he was doing (namely stuffing green notes into his duffle bag), and also turned to where his friend had been. When he saw that no one was there, he called out, "Joey?"

There was a muffled shout from 'Joey'. It was quiet, but Crookie number three noticed. He looked around again, but then stood stock still when he noticed where his friend had been attached.

"Dave!" He said, looking scared for his life. Which was irrational, because Peter had never killed anyone. "He's up there!" And he pointed to Joey. Joey yelled in response again.

When Dave noticed Spiderman's signature webs, he paused in his stuffing of money. His face fell slack, and Peter grinned widely. He loved that face. Most of his face was covered but the ckassical signs of priceless shock were too noticable to miss.

"... Caspar..." He muttered lowly, looking around warily, "We have to go now." He whispered. Peter raised an eyebrow at how easily he would leave his team mate behind. Then he reminded himself- average, everyday. (Seriously, did they ever change?)

Caspar nodded, and put his gun back in its holster, before heading to the entrance way, with Dave close behind. This was where Spiderman intervened.

He dropped down onto the floor, and shot a web at the duffle full of money. He easily retrieved it from Dave's grip, and chucked it to the floor. The two crookies turned slowly around to look at him, identical looks of shock and horror on their faces. Peter looked mock hurt (even though they couldn't see behind his mask) and spoke; "Hey, why the long faces? I came to meet you guys especially for the occasion!"

Caspar was the first to recover, and lunged at him, having already taken the gun back from its holster. Peter grinned and shot a web at the gun and pulled it from his grasp, before he could even shoot one bullet. He playfully twirled the gun in his hand, waiting for Caspar's reaction, as he stopped and looked back up at him helplessly.

Dave didn't even bother trying. He shrugged and tossed the gun to the ground, putting his hands on his head. Caspar, seeing his friend giving up, sighed and did the same. "Aw, how nice of you." He said, genuinely relieved. He didn't want to hurt them any more than he had to. "That saves a lot of time, you know?" he mentioned, as he tied them up in web.

With that done, he swung back up to the vent, and replaced the vent, just as the police stormed the place from all sides.

.o0|O|0o.

Peter had now returned home, with a few thrown out wires and old metal scraps. On the way back from the bank, he had dealt with two store robberies and attempted muggings, and one cop injury. The cop had just brushed against his leg with a bullet, but it was bleeding quite a bit, so he had had to stop on the way home and treat it.

Ever since the incident with his leg a couple of weeks ago, he had begun to carry around bandages, plasters, and a small bottle of first-aid alcohol. His leg was now clumsily bandaged, and he wished he still had Gwen to help him with injuries.

He tried to sneak through the house, but it appeared that aunt May had been waiting for him... at 10 o'clock in the evening. This wasn't too late, but he didn't really have an excuse for her. He had missed sinner for sure, and she was now worried, and their relationship was still tense, and...

Peter sighed, as aunt May silently handed him his cold dinner. She looked at him with a mixture of worry, confusion, frustration, and even some sadness. Peter felt guilt bombard him from all sides and turned away quickly. He didn't want to see that look on his aunt's face.

"Peter... look at me." She said, but Peter couldn't bring himself. He didn't want to look into those eyes of pure devastation. He did not want to look but... he had to. She had asked in that way that broke down the layers of stubborness that he harboured.

He slowly turned, but he didn't dare look into her eyes, for his own selfish conscience. He didn't want to see the dissapointment that she would no doubt look down at him with. He knew that he couldn't tell her his secret, but he always imagined what life would be like if he did.

Would she feel sorrow, dissapointment? Would she feel like he hadn't become what she had brought him up to do?

Would she look at him with trepidation, and worry? Would she try to stop him? Would life be easier?

He didn't know the answer to those questions, but... he knew that she would be in danger. Hedidn't know if she could manage to be as tight-lipped as he was. (He hated doubting her, but he had to consider everything). She would be more worried to the point that it could drive her insane, and he would never want to put her through the stress of having Spiderman as her nephew.

"Peter, please tell me what you were doing..." She begged, and he could tell that she was staring at him, but he didn't want to look... "Please tell me what you do while you're not at home...?" It was more of a question than anything, and it sounded so lost and upset, but once again, he could not tell her. No matter how much he wanted to.

"I..." He said. And he knew that he could lie. He knew that he could tell her that he was trying to get a job, or that he was looking for more scraps... but... he didn't want to anymore. His eyes travelled slowly to look up into her eyes.

"I... can't... tell you..." He struggled to get out. Two voices in his head were arguing ever so loudly, and he didn't want it show.

His aunt stared at him, her expression no longer anguished or scared, or curious. It was now much worse. The look on her face was absolutely, and utterly, blank. A part of him broke when he saw that.

She didn't speak again. She just left to the tiny living room that they owned, and went to bed, with that same look on her face.

Peter looked back down at the plate of cold food in his hands. He no longer felt so hungry, despite how high his metabolism was. He placed the food back in the fridge and went to his room.

That night, Peter went to bed, aunt May's look penetrating through the darkness of the night, and gripping him like a vice.