"Wake up!" A hand slaps him across the face. Bucky coughs. His lungs rattle. His eyes crack open, but everything's blurred.
Red curls come into view. Natasha stares down at him, eyes wide. And etched across her face—relief?
"You!" Bucky gasps. "You made me—" Horror shivers through him. What did I do?
"Sorry, Bucky, but I needed the Winter Soldier in the moment," Natasha says.
"Don't pretend to be sorry," Bucky grumbles, using his arm to push himself up. "You're not." People scream at him, all the screams he caused. He can't shut them out.
"No," Natasha agrees. "I'm not." She nods to the gauntlet, glinting in the light—a blue light from a blue sun. The ground seems to be covered in a silver dust, with some lights flickering in a distance. Bucky tenses, but the lights don't shift or change.
Where the hell are we?
"I hit you on the head as we jumped into that portal," Natasha explains. "Loki hasn't shown up yet."
He can tell she hit him. He winces. Bucky reaches for the massive gauntlet. He remembers the Power Stone exploding, grabbing Natasha and fleeing. "Thanos must've survived."
"I don't see how he could have."
"He's a Titan. Whatever that means. He survived." Bucky holds the device. You'd think there'd be something ominous about it, the same disturbing sensation scraping down his spine as when Thanos spoke. But for such a powerful weapon, it sits in his one hand.
"What do you think that?" Natasha inquires.
"If you don't see them die, you assume they didn't. Didn't they teach you that?"
Natasha brushes her hair from her face. Dried blood cakes her temple. From the explosion? A Chitauri? "Of course they did." Her eyes flash.
I hope you're worth it, Bucky thinks to the gauntlet. A giant piece of gold for his mind. Great, now he's talking to inanimate objects. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You didn't recognize me," she says, as if that's a good enough explanation.
It isn't. "And you didn't try to remind me?" He remembers Steve pleading with him, trying not to hurt him even as Bucky threw punch after punch.
"I didn't exactly get an opportunity until now," Natasha retorts. "I was trying to capture you, or you were trying to strangle me. Doesn't leave much time for chit-chat."
You and Agent Romanoff are very effective on your missions together.
She wasn't afraid of him back then, and he respected her for it. He felt like she respected him, didn't fear him, and it panicked him because he felt things he wasn't used to feeling.
I felt like a goddamn human, Bucky thinks now.
And they couldn't have that.
Bucky flinches as memories of pain spark inside his skull. He's a monster, a machine, not a human. He gasps.
"Bucky," Natasha says. "Are you all right?"
Ha. Not when he remembers that he's a machine, not a person, and the whole reason he even fucking has the gauntlet is because he's more useful as a machine. As an assassin, a soldier with a heart of ice that beats years beyond when it should have stopped. "Why didn't you think I could do it on my own? Without you using those words?" He frowns. "How do you even know those words?"
"I know they were used to recalibrate you when they thought you've acted out of line. To get you to comply," Natasha answers. She sifts her fingers through the dust.
His eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, for the—"
"How could you know that?" he shouts. If she knows, how many other people are still out there, still prowling around with the ability to control me?
"Because I'm trained not to forget!"
"And how could you see?" he challenges.
"Because they made me watch!" Natasha screams at him. "Don't you remember? When they thought we got along too well? When they realized that you were more of a friend to me? You were my liability, and I was yours, and they weren't going to stand for that. They broke you to fix you and they did the same for me. Except it wasn't physical at all for me. They had me from childhood. They knew how to get what they wanted—until Clint—" Her hands, balled tightly into fists, shake.
Bucky shakes his head. He sees her eyes burning and aching, and he remembers the redheaded girl staring at her dead friend, unable to cry.
"Loki might be able to cure that part of you," Natasha says. "But you're never fully whole."
He knows. But anything would be better than knowing that, at any moment, with a few simple words, he could kill the people he cares about. "Don't ever try to do that again."
Natasha hesitates. He glowers at her over his shoulder.
"I won't," she promises, a hint of irony in her voice. What good is a promise from a liar?
His fate is completely in the hands of two liars. Bucky almost laughs. "When do you think Loki will arrive?"
"You're the one who made the deal with him," Natasha reminds him.
"No idea," Bucky says.
"I'd almost expect him to have been waiting for us," Natasha admits.
Bucky looks up at the blue sun, the strange sky.
Everyone embraces Wanda, shakes Vision's hand. The Guardians stand off to the side. Steve's not sure he'll ever get used to seeing a raccoon griping about how disgusting and weird "your people" (directed to Starlord) are.
Clint embraces Wanda, and then steps back with a somber expression. He meets Steve's eyes, and Steve knows who's on his mind, whom he's desperate to welcome back as well. Natasha.
Where are you, Bucky?
"We can't just wait around," Clint says to Steve later that night. Laura's put all the kids to sleep except for Nathaniel, whom she rocks in her arms. "I can't stand the thought of what might be happening to Nat. Or to Bucky."
"Unless Thor decides to magically appear, though, what exactly can you do?" Laura asks.
"Wakanda's got all this technology," Steve says. "But none of it concerns portals or—or whatever this space travel is. The Guardians have said they can help but only if it's in this galaxy and they have a bloody location, which they don't." He rubs his face. We've got nothing.
He's never felt so helpless. Sam puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Plus, they're kind of more focused on Thanos and Vision and the gems of doom," Clint observes.
"Would anyone on earth have any sort of insight into that kind of travel?" questions Laura.
"Eric Selvig might," Steve mutters. "And Jane Foster. But we have no idea where they are." Because of course we don't.
"Not to mention I can't see Jane wanting anything to do with Thor," Clint grumbles. "Poor guy. Then again, poor Jane."
Laura nods. "Would Sharon know?" She looks pointedly at Steve.
"She might," Sam says carefully.
Steve's heartbeat increases. "We can't really risk her."
"Damn, you're right," says Sam sarcastically. "Would be a terrible idea to have a government agent we know is loyal to you helping us, and also maybe finding out that the entire world might be under siege from some crazy alien and his magic diamonds. If only we had, you know, someone who was small and tiny and unnoticeable to sneak in and give her a message, slash, get information from her. Damn."
Steve's stomach clamps. "Sam, I—"
"You can't always protect people," Sam informs him. "I know that's kind of your thing, but you also believe in freedom, right? Give Scott a choice and then give Sharon a choice. And you know Scott'll be thrilled to do something, and you know she'll help. And shouldn't they?"
"They should," Steve mutters even as his mind whirs. Maybe I'm more like Tony than I thought.
"Hear, hear," Laura jokes.
"We need to do something," Clint says. "And if we can reach Thor, he might be able to help us. We can't leave Nat and Bucky alone. This is different than when Bruce went AWOL on us. He wanted to. Everything we have indicates that this wasn't—they didn't go willingly. We know Nat wouldn't have, and Bucky was supposed to be comatose."
"And he wouldn't have left. Not without... without his mind healed," Steve says. You wouldn't have, would you?
You don't stand a chance against Thanos without me, brother, Loki thinks sourly. He trudges through Vanaheim. Without Gungnir, he has no way of knowing if Natasha and Bucky have arrived. They better have. Loki can't wait any longer.
With his magic, to passersby he resembled an elderly woman, hunched over. He's going about that speed, at any rate. Doesn't anyone have a horse nearby that I can steal? he grouses.
Thor hates him.
With good reason.
Where is Father?
You won't like the answer, brother, Loki thinks. But in that moment, he saw fear in Thor's eyes—fear that Loki killed Odin. As powerful as Loki is, he couldn't have. Thank the Norns for the Odinsleep.
He stares at his hands. You're weak. You're pathetic.
"We found a body."
"Loki." And he waited, his breath stilted, a calm face but tension clenching over his head: will you mourn? Did you ever mourn, even the first time? Are you relieved? After all, it was only Frigga who spared him the first time, and now she's gone, too.
Gone because of Loki's own stupidity.
And even then the stupid Allfather wouldn't give him the peace of knowing, of a goddamn answer. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped to the floor.
In truth, Loki doesn't know what he would have done if Odin mourned, if he expressed satisfaction. Try to earn his respect as a mere soldier? Turn his powers against him later? Probably the latter.
I killed Mother, Thor, Loki thinks. But that's one secret he can never, ever express. Not to Odin, not to Thor, not to anyone. It's the regret he can't shake, the one that clings to him like oil that no water can wash away.
You might want to take the stairs to the left.
He clenches his fists, bites his lip so hard blood stings against his tongue.
She would hate what you've become.
She always hated what I am, Loki corrects.
Has she?
Does it matter? Odin has, and Thor has. I am the monster parents tell their children about at night.
And now Thor knows it for certain. If he ever had any doubt about his brother's Frost Giant heritage making him a creature of pure evil, he certainly doesn't anymore. Your conscience can rest easy, brother.
A roar shatters the air. A roar that sends prickles down Loki's skin, because it's horrifyingly familiar. He swallows.
Puny god.
Loki staggers up a ridge and peers down to see the green beast—the one he once termed a monster—thrashing and roaring from within some sort of cage. How did you get here?
And how do you like it? He sneers.
"We can sell him," says one of the traders.
To whom? Loki wonders.
He doubts these pathetic Vanir traders have the Mad Titan in mind, but Thanos and his promises of pain are never far from Loki's mind. And if Thanos gets wind of the crazy beast from Midgard on Vanaheim, Loki doubts he'll be able to resist the temptation to exploit the creature.
Loki curses himself as he strides towards the group.
"Yo," Scott says as he saunters over to Vision.
"Hello," Vision says with a smile. He barely knows the man, but he'll never forget seeing him become a giant.
Vision's spent the whole day undergoing all sorts of scans and tests, all concentrating on the gem that gives him life, that some space being wants to use to steal life from others. Even now, he realizes that his fingers are trekking up to his skull, tracing the device.
He saw Wanda briefly in the morning, when T'Challa had his scientists working on him. Vision knows they're trying to help him, to save him, and yet he still felt like a project, and it shocked him how much that bothers him. He knows how he was created. He knows why. He's always been a project, but a project for good.
He still isn't sure he likes it, and that terrifies him.
"So," Scott says, flopping onto the sofa across from Vision. "I just through I should let you know that Wanda and I are going on a little mission."
"What?" They've been here what, one day? "She just—"
"We need to get information from Sharon Carter about how to get in touch with Eric Selvig and Jane Foster. To find Natasha and Bucky," Scott explains. "Isn't Natasha your friend? I mean, you did fight against Bucky, so maybe you don't give a damn, but—"
"I wasn't fighting against him," Vision protests. "I was trying to maintain order. I disagreed with Steve's choices. I don't have anything personal against the man. I don't take sides in that way. I simply fight for what—"
"Blah, blah, blah," says Scott, rolling his eyes. "Does that even matter, dude? Like, if you're fighting against someone, I don't think it really matters whether you have a personal tie to them or not. You're fighting against them. And anyways, for this latest mission—"
"How many missions has Wanda been on since you were all rescued?" Vision demands.
"This will be her first since rescuing you," Scott taunts. "I think… three. Yeah. Three. She wants to, okay? Being locked up isn't fun. You do kind of get antsy." He wiggles his eyebrows.
Vision can only shake his head. I was trying to protect you, Wanda.
Except she can protect herself.
"Don't worry," Scott says. "I am going as an ant, not as a giant this time. Want to stay under the radar and all."
"Good," Vision says as Wanda strides into the room.
"Did you tell him?" she asks Scott.
"Yep." Scott leaps to his feet.
"Good. We're leaving in two hours." Wanda turns on her heel to stalk out.
"Wait!" Vision calls, floating towards her. "Wanda!"
"Yeah?" She turns around, and her eyes—they're still bitter.
"Good luck," he says.
He might have turned back into a man, but Loki is not letting that beast out of his cage.
Judging from the rage and shock in Bruce Banner's expression, he made the right call.
"You! What the hell—" He grapples for a blanket and ties it around his waist.
"I believe I just rescued you from some Vanirs who wanted to trade you as a spectacle," Loki replies, crossing his arms and leaning back against a stone.
"You probably arranged that," snaps Bruce.
"You're not that important," Loki returns.
"Yeah? If you say you were helping me, prove it. Let me out of this damn cage." Bruce rattles the bars.
"No."
Bruce smirks. "That's one of the moments I really wish I could remember. Smashing you around like a rag doll."
"If you were aiming to convince me to set you free, that was probably not the words you wanted to say," Loki retorts, standing and stretching. Bruce's eyes narrow and Loki smirks.
"Where am I?"
"Vanaheim." Loki drops back down. "Another of the Nine Realms. Which, I must say, Doctor Banner, is quite impressive. I didn't think you were up to that level of intelligence, to figure out how to leave Midgard."
Bruce drags his hands through his hair. "I don't think I did."
"What?" Loki bites his tongue again. Dammit. He needs to figure out how Bruce got to Vanaheim, whether it was through some sort of portal or—
"I was flying—" Bruce sighs. "Until I ran out of gas."
"Not smart enough to pack enough?" Loki can't resist asking.
"It wasn't a planned flight, and I didn't care," Bruce tells him. Loki almost drops the pebble he's been fiddling with.
Were you suicidal?
"And then something opened up, and I was in—a different place, not like this. It was black and ashy—"
Loki remembers Svartalfheim.
"And then—there are all these things I don't remember, times the Hulk was me and times I was me—I can't keep things straight. And then these guys showed up, and I worked for them."
"Worked for them?" Loki's jaw drops. If they were Bruce's friends, that would be just his luck.
"Fought for them. As a champion. When they induced the Hulk." Bruce almost laughs. "They weren't kind."
Thank the Norns.
"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Bruce demands. "Thor told us—"
"Were you relieved to hear it? Loki, stabbed by a monster?" he snorts.
"I might have been, but your brother was sad. Jane made me recommend counselors, but he never went. And you were just tricking—" Bruce clutches the bars, his knuckles whitening and eyes widening. Loki jumps to his feet. "Scared you?"
Loki narrows his eyes. "Well, it's your lucky day. If you want to return to Midgard, I can get you back there. So long as you try to figure out precisely where that portal was you went through."
"I don't have the plane—"
"I don't care. If you want to go back, you'll figure it out, and we'll meet again." Loki hopes. "That's all I'd ask of you."
"I'd really rather not invite you back to our planet."
Loki rolls his eyes. Somewhere, some kind of bird sings. "I can get there any time I want. I just don't want, generally. Except I need to know where this portal is, but it's not for my usage."
Bruce laughs. "Oh for crying out, you can't expect me to believe the oldest excuse in the book—"
"You'll believe Natasha, won't you?" Loki asks. Bruce's face slackens. "Because she's nearby. I'm on my way to meet up with her right now. She ran a mission for me—her and Bucky Barnes, your righteous Captain's dearest old friend—and once they give me what I want, I'm sending them back to earth."
"You kidnapped them!"
"On what information are you basing this assessment?"
"Your previous behavior!"
"I didn't!" Loki snarls. "Calm yourself, Banner. Or else I'll leave you and that foul beast you turn into here to starve in a cage."
"Still wouldn't kill me," Bruce snaps.
So you weren't trying to kill yourself? Loki wonders.
"I wouldn't want to see her, anyways," Bruce says.
"Why not?" Loki watches as Bruce's lips twitch and his eyes skitter around. Were you in love with her?
"None of your business. If you plan on just leaving me here, go ahead. The Hulk will figure a way out. Somehow."
"Leaving a rampaging Hulk isn't an option," Loki informs him. Not when Thanos is scouring the Nine Realms for allies, and for me.
"So you're gonna try to kill me? Good luck," Bruce says.
Loki grabs the cage bars. "You're not that lucky." He closes his eyes and wipes his glamor off. "I surrender, Heimdall."
"What?" Bruce starts to yell, as Loki watches from a nearby ridge as a beam of light swallows up his likeness, and Bruce's.
"Say hi to Thor for me," Loki grumbles as he darts away. He needs to get off this Realm and to Natasha and Bucky as soon as he can, before Thor sends the Einharjar to scour Vanaheim.
Instead of his brother appearing through the Bifrost, Thor hears a roar.
And there's a cage, and a very green, very angry Hulk.
"Stop!" Thor bellows at the Warriors Three, who all aim their axes and swords at him. "He's my friend!"
What the hell is he doing here?
