"You think we could have contained him? He's a—" Ross shouts as Sharon roundhouse-kicks him in the face.

Wanda's red magic shoots through the air, freezing Ross in place. Tony could throw up. His stomach pinches. Sif grips Thor's shoulder.

He's dead. Tony knows it. And oh god, the memories of his own parents' deaths—the knock on the door—

"Bruce—Bruce!" shouts Jane Foster. Tony whirls around to see Bruce clutching the sides of his skull, gulping air.

"Bruce." Natasha dashes over, grabbing his shoulders. "We need you. Stay calm. Stay Bruce. We need—we need a doctor; we need you—"

"Um, he's dead," Tony puts in. There's no point; nothing will help!

Natasha scowls and slashes her hand at him as if to say shut the hell up. "For Loki," she pants. "Remember? He helped you. And me."

Oh.

But Loki?

"There could be other shooters," T'Challa says.

"Right." Tony looks to Rhodey. "You ready?"

His friend nods, his war machine suit powering up.

"We'll get them out of the way," Gamora says, nodding to the rest of the Guardians. Groot and Rocket head for Ross and Sharon, Gamora and Quill towards Sif, Wanda, Thor, Odin, and Loki.

T'Challa rushes towards the forest as Tony and Rhodey soar overhead. Guy really takes his country's security seriously. Tony admires that. He peers at the trees, looking for any signs of the sniper. Snipers, maybe. Whoever it is, he or she can't be very far into the forest—and they'd need an extra tall tree—maybe like that one—

Falcon joins them. Okay, then.

"Hey, down there!" Rhodey shouts, swooping downwards. Tony jerks around and follows his friend down, in-between the trees. Branches scrape his suit. Dammit!

"I caught him," Peter Parker says proudly, a man dressed in camouflage tied to a tree with spider-webbing. T'Challa examines a rifle.

"Good for you, kid," Tony breathes. Your aunt is going to hire a sniper to take me out.

"Everyone okay?" Peter asks. "I heard the shots and came searching, but he got a few good ones out before I—"

"Odin's dead," says Sam grimly as he lands. "Loki's hurt, too."

"Thor's dad?" Peter's jaw drops.

"Uh, yeah," Tony says. And they put Wanda and Sif at risk too. Rage courses through him. You partnered with these people!

Once again, like with Ultron, this is all his fault. Tony wilts in his suit.

"Tony," says Rhodey. "Tony. Come on."

"What? Everything's fine."

"Bullshit," Sam remarks. "Not everything's fine. Someone's dead."

"I know that!" Tony shouts.

"Parker and I will get him back," T'Challa says, glaring at the sniper. "Tell them we're coming. And make sure Loki's getting medical treatment."

You don't believe in allowing suffering, do you?

Tony can hear Thor's howl, see the anguish creasing his face, and Tony remembers his own parents' deaths. He remembers having to watch their deaths, as Zemo watched and he realized he'd almost helped their murderer.

But this sniper, even though he now hangs his head, made a choice.

By the time Tony gets back to the palace, everyone's moved inside. Thor and Sif are nowhere to be seen. Neither is Odin. Vision wraps his arms around Wanda, who cries silently. Bruce is gone. Natasha, Steve, and Sam surround Bucky, whose face is drained of color.

That bullet was originally meant for him.

"Where's Ross?" Tony asks.

"Sharon and the Guardians took him away," responds Scott. "Man." He shakes his head. "They really hate us, don't they?"

"They hate us until they need us to save them again," Clint observes.

Clint. Tony grabs his arm. "I wanna talk to you."

"Um, okay?" Clint stumbles behind him as Tony veers left into a small corridor.

Tony yanks off his mask. Sweat drips down his face. "What do you feel now? That Loki's been shot?"

"What? Who cares what I feel?"

"I need to know." Tony bites down on the insides of his cheeks. He won't say please. But God, he means it.

"I feel awful for Thor," Clint tells him. "His father—"

"But Loki brainwashed you. Mind-controlled you." That's the better term. "Do you wish he was the one shot? Is there a tiny part of you that might have been, I don't know, satisfied with that?"

Clint gapes at him. "Tell me you're not saying you knew about this."

"Of course not!" Tony glares. His throat aches. "You really think I would do that?"

"I really didn't think you would do a lot of the things you did." Clint frowns. "I suppose you could say the same about me."

"Yeah." Tony shrugs. "But like—Loki controlled your mind. Don't you hate him for it?"

"Sometimes. Like when I wake up at night and Laura's worried and I can't tell her that I've been dreaming about what might have happened. I know I killed people who were friends, Tony. Do you know how that feels?"

"I know I killed people. But only through weapons. So no."

Clint glances back out. Voices rumble. "I don't know what to tell you, Tony. Do I want to make nice with Loki? Hell no. Did I want this to happen? No."

"I keep thinking of my mom. My dad. And you, too." Tony rubs his face. "I said I didn't care that he was brainwashed, and now…"

"You know what?" Clint asks. "You don't have to. I care because of Thor. Steve's your friend."

"Was," Tony mutters.

"Do you want him to be again?" Clint demands, exasperated.

"Maybe." Tony pushes past Clint, heading back out. Steve sits next to Bucky, Natasha hovering nearby. All of their faces are ashen.

Do you feel guilty? Tony wonders.

I remember all of them.

Steve's always been Tony's broccoli friend. The one that sometimes doesn't always taste pleasant and feels like crunchy bones, but the one who's working in his best interest. Until he lied to Tony, covered it up.

Why didn't you tell me?

Considering his reaction, Tony can't blame Steve, but it was still shitty. And dead people can't be resurrected.

But Steve's alive.


"Bruce!" Natasha leaps up. Bucky follows her gaze to see him striding out, shaking his head.

"Loki will be fine. Wakandan doctors are taking care of him; I mostly was just security." Bruce offers a weak smile.

Right. Judging from what Bucky's heard of the Hulk's Loki-smashing in New York, the doctors must have felt safer working with Bruce nearby. And maybe that'd be good for Bruce, too.

"You should go talk to Sharon," Bucky tells Steve, who nods.

They intended to kill him, Bucky thinks again. What makes them the good guys, in that case?

"Natasha, can I talk to you?" Clint asks, brushing past Tony. Nat nods.

"So," Bruce begins as Sam smirks. "You and Natasha are… together?"

Bucky nods.

"She's a pretty great person," Bruce comments, sitting down next to Bucky. "She claims she only dates guys who are good people, too."

"I think she needs to rethink that," Bucky admits.

Bruce laughs. "You're good for her."

"What have I ever done that would make you think that?" Bucky asks, relieved Bruce is at least drawing his mind away from the cesspool of misery and shame and fear it's been festering in.

"I don't think you'd ever hurt her."

"I have before," Bucky tells him. "When I didn't recognize her."

"You tried to strangle her," Sam confirms.

"Thanks," Bucky snaps. Not what I needed to hear.

"Welcome. Always here to remind you." Sam glances back at Scott, who's entertaining Clint's children by turning into a tiny man. "And now I'm gonna go save Scott from getting stomped on."

"So we're both not who we want to be when we're not quite ourselves," Bruce observes.

"No," Bucky agrees. "Loki said he could fix my mind. That clearly didn't work out."

"Yeah. I wish someone could fix me, you know? I'd give up all these powers—all this strength—just to know I'd never hurt a soul again. It's not the same as Steve or Tony or Thor. They're in control."

"I know." Bucky blows out his breath.

"Tony told me—the first time we were all together, when we were trying to stop Loki and he and Steve were at each others' throats—"

Apparently not much has changed, Bucky thinks.

"—that the Hulk was maybe always a part of me. Sometimes I think that's a good thing. Sometimes it terrifies me."

"That's exactly what terrifies me," Bucky admits. "The idea that the Winter Soldier is a part of me, and I can't exorcise him. A murderer. An assassin. At least for you, it's unintentional. And you've done good as the Hulk, as well as—you know. I haven't done a single thing that's good."

Bruce frowns and takes off his glasses. "Didn't you steal the Gauntlet as the Winter Soldier?"

"Apparently I also then tried to kill Natasha. Again."

"They'll figure you out," Bruce assures him. "Unlike me, I think you're meant to be fixed."

"And you?" Bucky asks.

"I don't know that I'm meant to be fixed. Science tells me it's not really possible. You, on the other hand—it's possible. They just have to figure out how. And if anyone on earth can, T'Challa can. Plus Thor might lend you that staff or whatever."

But it won't make the things I've done go away.

Find peace with that.

It seems impossible, a tempest surging up to grab him and drag him down to the depths. He watches Natasha chat with Clint. She glances over her shoulder, offers him a smile, a ray of light.

"Maybe you could focus instead on trying to control the Hulk," Bucky suggests. "Instead of making it go away."

"It'd be dangerous."

"What if there are people willing to take up that challenge? Because you know it's possible. You had some control in New York. You saved Iron Man, right?"

Bruce ducks his head. "I'll think about it."


Father.

Father.

The word circulates through Thor's head, a cry that wants to escape from his lips, but he won't let it, because for the first time ever, his father cannot answer.

Asgardians grow stiff, to, when they're dead. And they'll need to get him to Asgard, for the funeral. Heimdall must know. How many others? Fandral? Volstagg? Hogun?

Thor's head buzzes with thoughts, and none of them land. He remembers when Mother died, when he thought Loki died. Why are the Norns so cruel?

"Thor," Sif whispers.

He doesn't move. You died. For Loki. The son you told would never see Mother again.

Why?

If you were in your right mind, would you still have done it? Thor wonders, staring at the limp body of the man who taught him that his physical strength was what mattered. Sometimes.

He also taught him humility, and sacrifice.

You were willing to die to save Jane and Darcy and that town.

Again, because of Loki.

But Loki's face… his mouth open, the terror beading in his eyes—he didn't want this. Thor hopes.

"Thor," Sif tries again.

"May I come in?" asks T'Challa from the doorway. Thor nods.

"Your brother's going to make it."

Thor nods again.

"You can go see him, if you want."

Thor sucks in his breath. "I don't want to leave him." His words come out rough, cracked.

"Thor," Sif says. "What good is it to sit here?"

What good is it to leave?

"You've got a brother who is still alive," T'Challa says. "Because of your father."

Thor remembers Mother's death, and how Father's grief blinded him. He wants to be a great king, and a great man.

"You're angry with your brother," T'Challa says. "I don't blame you."

Thor exhales. "Not for this." For everything else, but not for this. Although if Loki hadn't impersonated Father in the first place…

You can't undo the past.

Why is what Loki's done any worse than what Thor's done? Is it only worse because it was done to him, to his loved ones, instead of to strangers?

And yet it still festers, feels worse.

Thor rises, leaving Mjolnir on the floor. "I'll see him."

"I'll stay here, if you want," Sif tells him, tears still tracking down her face.

You care so much. Thor nods.

"Losing your father is the worst feeling in the world," T'Challa tells him as they exit the room. Shadows fall from the pillars in the hallways.

"I don't know what I have left," Thor says. "Mother's gone. Loki—I can't—" Does he still want his brother? Does he not? Yes, and no, and everything turns over and turns over in his mind, clobbering him.

"I clung to revenge. The first thing I could find. I almost killed the wrong man, and when I had the right man, I couldn't kill him." T'Challa doesn't look at him. "I didn't want it to consume me. I didn't want to become like Tony, or like Baron Zemo. I wanted to become like my father instead." He pauses outside a door.

Like my father

"It's your choice. I can't fault you, whatever you do," T'Challa says, and the sincerity in his voice—it's like a mirror, and it's reflecting parts of Thor that he doesn't like, the vengeful, quick-to-violence parts still lurking.

And Father was like that too. We're somewhat alike, Thor reminds himself. Except Father died for Loki, in the end. Did he even remember what Loki did to him? Would it have mattered?

Thor pushes the door open. His brother lies on a bed, guarded by several Wakandans. Loki's eyes are closed, and in the dim light, he almost looks ghostly. Like he's dead too.

"I will leave you alone," T'Challa says. "But I will be right outside."

Loki's eyes open slowly, harden as they focus on Thor. A shield, really.

How long have you been doing that for?

"How's your arm?" Thor asks.

"Are you here to kill me?" Loki retorts.

"No." Thor scowls. He's trying to bait you. "Father's dead."

"I was there."

"Loki—"

"Why did you run out?" he demands. "Why didn't you let them—I believe you said you would kill me if I betrayed you, right? I betrayed you. And Odin."

"I don't want to." Thor swallows. "You're all I have left."

Loki manages a laugh, a pitiful sound. "I feel sorry for you."

"Loki, I know about Thanos. We—"

"I put Odin on this earth. He lost his mind on his own, admittedly, but—"

"He jumped in front of a—"

"It's my fault just like everything else." Loki rolls his eyes, but his voice trembles.

Rage erupts. "Yes, it is, and what are you going to do about it?" Thor demands.

Loki stares at him, jaw open. He closes his eyes and turns away from Thor. "I killed Mother, too." It's a whisper, and it sends terror snaking down Thor's spine, winding around his ribs and pulling tight.

"What?" he manages to ask.

"When that creature—Kurse—broke out of the cell. I told him to take the stairs to the left. Loki watches him carefully. "I wanted you, and Odin, to suffer."

Not her.

Does it matter?

Thor's stomach churns. He could vomit. The room spins around him, the light and the dark mixing.

"I killed both your parents; aren't you—"

"Your parents," Thor grinds out.

"You really think they would claim me after—"

Tears stream down Thor's face as he looks at the face of the brother he used to punch, who wrestled with hi, smirked at him when Loki always did better in lessons, told him not to worry, helped him strategize? Where did you go? Why are you so lost? "They would. And you know it. Father did."

"They can't!" Now Loki's face twists. The corners of his mouth dig in as he tries to drag back a sob.

"He just died for you!" Thor shouts. The Wakandan guards glance at each other. "For you, Loki, because he thinks you're worthwhile! Because you're his son, no matter what race you belong to, no matter what you've done, he still loved you!"

"Why couldn't he have shown it to me when he was alive?" Loki screams back, haggard. Hair droops in front of his eyes as he shakes his head.

"I don't know," Thor croaks out. "But he did in the end. He was alive, and now he's not, because you're more important to him.

"That's was a fool's thing to do." But Loki covers his eyes with the hand attached to his uninjured arm. His shoulders shudder.

"Loki, you're all I have left," Thor says. Everything within him wants to beat Loki, wants to hug him and never let him go. "I—" He can't eke out the plea. But it's there, lingering in the air.

"Why?"

"You're my brother," Thor says. "It doesn't matter. I—all of it's less important. You're my brother, and Norns dammit, Loki, I love you. I can't—" He can't keep speaking, because tears strangle his voice. He leans over. What will it take? Will you ever see? He wants to tear that blindfold off, burn it away, but Loki stubbornly clings to it and there's nothing Thor can do to fix this.

"Thor." An arm closes around his neck, and Loki's head presses into his cheek. Everything snaps: Thor grabs Loki and holds him tight.

Until Loki cries out.

"Oops." Thor releases him. "Your arm all right?"

"You're a buffoon," Loki mutters. But he's looking at Thor like he's so, so afraid, but there's still hope.