"Still can't believe we're going to have to work with Loki," complains Clint as he watches the Guardians depart in the Milano.

"Me either," Steve admits. It's a strange set of circumstances, to be sure. Although... his mind keeps comparing Bucky and Loki, and he's not sure he likes it. "I guess we all just want to live."

"I can't forget what he did to me, though," Clint mutters.

"You don't hate him, though," Sam points out as he pops open a bottle of soda.

"Not enough to create a problem," Clint tells him. He turns on his heel. "I'm gonna go spend some time with my family before we leave tomorrow. It may be the last time I see them."

"Clint!" Steve calls. "You don't have to come if—"

"I'd never be able to look myself in the eye again if I didn't!" Clint replies without turning around. The door bangs as he stalks inside.

"You 'don't have to come?'" Sam mocks. "Aren't you usually all about doing the right thing no matter the cost, Mr. Rogers?"

"I try," Steve says as he grabs Sam's soda and takes a swig. "But I—he's got kids. We need him, but I don't want him to feel bitter or—"

Sam laughs.

"What?" Steve demands.

"Maybe you've learned something from our civil war after all," Sam tells him. "Don't worry about it."

They pass Scott, peering into his smartphone and laughing with his daughter. Steve's heart constricts.

"Hey," Sharon says to him. "You all right?"

Sam waves and slips off.

"Just preparing for the biggest battle of our lives." To save your life. And everyone in the entire universe's.

"You'll win," Sharon says, stepping closer. Her hand closes over Steve's arm. "You never lose."

"I grew up losing," Steve admits. "But losing's not an option here."

"I'm supposed to pay a visit to Pepper Potts when I get back. Stark's request," Sharon informs him.

"He can't call her himself?"

"He's kind of busy trying to find a certain teenager, who may have stowed away on the Milano to avoid an inevitable confrontation." Sharon shrugs.

"You helped him," Steve accuses.

"I figured he had the right to try and defend… he called his aunt. I made sure of that." Sharon brushes her hair back from her shoulders.

There are so many questions Steve wants to ask her, so much he wants to learn, and he only has a few hours and he doesn't have enough energy to embed his feelings into words.

"Don't let him get hurt?"

Steve nods. It's the right thing to do, for him to go and face this war. For all of them. But never really thought, though, of people who had to stay behind. Collateral damage, a term, numbers, people when he was trying to minimize it. Back when the world was at war, he remembers his neighbor screaming, hysterical, telegram in hand, death printed in black ink.

What happened to her?

Who will be collateral damage this time? Laura Barton? Peter's Aunt May? Cassie Lang? And with the courage and yet sadness he sees on Sharon's face… you too, maybe.

If he dies, she might mourn. And it's a privilege to be this close to someone. He remembers Peggy, all that she went on to do after the war.

And she missed him, or so they say. Always.

Steve's hand closes around the back of Sharon's skull. His lips meet hers and he tries to lose himself in the moment, stop agonizing over what's coming, stop trying to focus on everything else and just focus on her.

He can't.

Not yet.

For the first time, as Steve pulls back, he feels like something in him might be broken.

"You better call me when you get back," Sharon tells him.

You'll take care of the Bartons, won't you, no matter what happens?

He doesn't have to ask. He trusts her like he trusted Peggy, like he trusts Sam. "I will."

"Good luck." Sharon squeezes his hand and saunters off. Steve smiles as eh watches her go. He should call after her, but he doesn't.

"Nicely done," comments a voice from around the corner. Steve laughs as Bucky emerges. "But isn't she related to your old girlfriend? Her granddaughter?"

"Niece," Steve corrects, but Bucky's actually grinning and joking, and it's so rarely been like this between them since… everything. Since before he became Captain America. Before the war.

"You okay?" Bucky asks, the same way he used to ask all the time when they were kids and Steve was sporting a black eye or a bloodied lip.

Steve smiles as he fiddles with the lock on the door to his room. "I don't know." It's a far cry from the I'm fine answers he used to give. Bucky's smile falters.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know." Steve drops onto his bed. "I'm tired."

"That's not unexpected."

Steve peers up at Bucky. "Yeah, but I'm not—the only other time I remember being this—tired, this ready to be done was after you fell from that train. I don't know why I feel this way. Nat's alive. Everyone's alive, except Odin, and I didn't know him."

"Well, we are about to face the lover of death himself," Bucky points out.

Steve snorts. "True." He scrabbles to put his emotions into words. "I'm just—I want to—I've always been this symbol of inspiration, and I don't know. I don't know if I deserve it anymore."

"Why not?"

"Not because of you," Steve interjects. "But I miss—everything that passed between Tony and myself, I don't regret it, but it doesn't—I miss having him as my friend."

Bucky nods. "I understand." Guilt pinches his features.

Dammit. Steve can't express himself. "So you and Natasha really knew each other?"

"Yeah. We did several missions together, until they decided she brought out my human side and vice versa and... they put an end to that." Bucky's eyes travel back in time.

Steve has a pretty good idea what "put an end to that" really means, and his heart aches. "I'm happy for you. You deserve—"

"No, I don't," Bucky interrupts, shaking his head. "I don't deserve anything, really."

"You do."

"Well, she seems to like me anyways." He shrugs. "And when I'm with her, or with you too, since you're my best friend, I almost can believe I'm not a monster."

Nothing will ever fully erase the doubts, the guilt, and Steve wants to scream. Why? Why did this have to happen?

"Thank you," Bucky says quietly. "For always being my friend. I mean, I know you're all about loyalty, but if you hadn't tried..."

He would have died the Winter Soldier, their creation. Steve swallows. "I'll always be your friend."

Bucky nods, his eyes misting. "T'Challa said they're creating a new metal arm for the mission."

Steve straightens, taking the cue. "How do you feel about that?"

"Terrified." Bucky meets his eyes, and Steve can tell he doesn't like admitting that. "All of it—getting my mind back, maybe, but there's the fact that it won't erase the memories, or make anyone alive again. But at least I won't hurt anyone else. I hope."

"Bucky," Steve says. "You won't. You protected me even when I didn't necessarily want you to. You've got a caring heart, and all those years of—whatever they did to you—they didn't stomp that out. You're still here."

"Just changed, a little." Bucky gestures towards his stump with a grimace.

"Whereas I haven't changed at all?" Steve asks.

"Not much. A little, yeah, you have. But you're still Steve Rogers."

"Just a hero now." Steve laughs at the absurdity of it.

Bucky scrunches his brow. "You've always been a hero. At least to me. Don't you realize I wish I had half your courage?"

Steve's throat sticks when he tries to speak. He can't and opts to shrug instead. Even if your mind's still a risk, you're back.


"Are you sure leaving your kingdom is a wise choice?" Thor inquires.

"I'm not planning on dying. Or on being gone very long," T'Challa responds as Bruce, Jane, Wanda and Vision climb up the stairs into a wide-open room with windows that reveal the sprawling world of Wakanda below.

"How did it go?" Sif asks as she examines a strawberry.

"They're good," Thor tells her. "Try one."

"They're poison," deadpans Loki, handcuffed to the soft blue couch he's sitting on. Loki's smirk vanishes as Bruce comes closer.

"It went fairly well," Wanda answers. "My magic—"

"You have magic?" scoffs Loki.

"Brother, I will—" Thor starts.

"From the mind gem," Wanda confirms, lifting her hands to reveal a red glow. Loki's eyes widen in intrigue.

Oh no. Thor glances at Sif, who still studies the strawberry as if fascinated. She bites into it and a smile widens.

"You don't know how it works, though?" Loki asks.

"Not entirely. I can control it," Wanda adds hastily. "Give people visions, teleport things—"

"Oh no," Bruce groans.

"Well, on the bright side," T'Challa puts in. "Their magic talk will drive Tony Stark insane."

Bruce nods as if T'Challa's made a valid point.

"Things went okay," Bruce admits. "Wanda does seem to be able to control the Hulk, at least a little bit. She can put commands in my mind. The problem is, the Hulk decides whether or not he wants to obey them."

"About two-thirds of the time he does," Jane puts in.

"These are amazing," Sif gasps, reaching for three more berries.

"I think it's hopeful," declares Vision. "No, we don't have time to perfect it—"

"And not all of us are perfect robot creations," Bruce adds.

"Perfect I am not." Vision glances at the floor. "But it will help." His gaze suddenly widens.

"Can you appear to Tony right now? He's outside with Rhodey and Nat," Wanda's saying.

"Brother, that is a terrible—" Thor starts, but Loki starts talking as if to Stark.

"Don't worry; I'm not actually here. The Scarlet Witch and I are practicing magic, which is too much for a simple mortal like yourself to underst—"

T'Challa laughs. Sif pauses with a strawberry halfway to her mouth.

"Scarlet Witch," muses Wanda as she glances to Vision. "I like it."

"He's very irritated," Loki reports.

"You're pushing your luck," Thor hisses.

"For real?" Rhodey drawls as he comes into the room, followed by a scowling Tony.

"Tony—" Thor begins, but Tony shakes his head. "Got other things to concentrate on."

Thor's heart seizes. He and Sif exchange a glance as they rise to collect Odin's body. And head home.

What is Asgard without Odin? Even when Odin wasn't there, Thor thought he was. He can't picture it. There's no one he can turn to for advice.

Not no one. Sif's following him, her eyes soft.

Father loved you like a daughter, Thor thinks, but he can't bring himself to say it. Not right now. Loki needs him. The Avengers need him, and who knows if either of them will survive.

I want to be like you, Father. Put his work as his foremost priority, swallows his emotions and wait to act. Think.

Of course, when he thinks of Loki, Thor can't help but wonder to what extent Odin's prioritizing of his kingdom lost him everything.

I can't right now. He doesn't need a reason beyond that one.

"Thor," calls a voice. Jane.

The sweet scientist he still adores approaches. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Thor manages.

"If you need an astrophysicist, tell Heimdall to beam me up." She smiles slightly, tugging at her cardigan. "You're all fully capable of taking this Thanos guy down."

"Thanks for all your help," Thor says. "I appreciate it. I do."

She nods and steps aside. Thor forces himself to turn, walk away.

"Thor?" she calls.

He turns immediately.

"You'll make a great king."


"I'll call you in ten days; I promise," Scott says into the phone.

"Daddy, why do you have to go?" whines Lila as Clint clutches her to his chest. Natasha blinks.

"Will you take care of Daddy, Aunty Nat?" asks Cooper, tears in his eyes. You'd think after so many times Clint went away, the kids would be used to it.

They aren't.

"Of course," Natasha promises, crouching to the ground. "I'll keep him out of trouble." She winks.

"I don't doubt you will," Laura assures her.

Natasha pulls away from the family, sidling next to Bucky. "No matter what happens, Clint has to get back here. Clint and Scott."

Bucky nods.

Clint is her Steve, the one who pulled her back and made her hope for a better life, hope for a better her. Almost losing him to Loki was torturous. If it costs her life, she'll make sure he gets to come home to Laura, Nathaniel, Lila, and Cooper.

She used to look up to Clint, not just because of who he was, but because of whom he had. He had a family. He had a wife who loved him and kids, and every time Natasha drew a picture with Lila or chased Cooper across the farm, it always hit her like a rock in her chest that she could never, ever replicate that.

But bucky's holding her hand, and Steve's nearby, and all of the Avengers—they tell her she's lovable, just as she is. What they did to her in the Red Room—what she did herself in the years that followed—none of that matters so much as she matters to them.

Natasha glances to Loki. She wonders if he'll get that chance.

"Hey," Tony says as he walks over. His eyes still burn, and Natasha realizes that she's looking at the face of someone she could have easily hurt, too, the face of a son whose parents were assassinated. And then his eyes flick to her, and they soften. "Ready for space travel?"

"That can't scare me," Natasha responds.

"Of right, you were gallivanting around space pretty recently." Tony waves his hand. Bucky almost smiles.

"Heimdall, we're ready!" calls Thor.

"We are?" asks Sam.

Light flashes, obscuring her view of Laura and the kids, and then every last muscle in her body feels like it's being squeezed through space and time—her brain dissolving—and they're in a small room with a golden dome covering them, and a dark-skinned man smiles at them.


Asgard rises around them, golden and buzzing with rumors and tears for their fallen king. Thor leads the way, his jaw set in a firm line.

Loki's disguised himself as a plain man, an ordinary human with reddish-gold hair. Sif keeps in step behind him, her blade surreptitiously aimed at his back.

The Avengers are ushered into spacious rooms in the palace, and Wanda finds a beautiful red gown made of silk and interwoven with gold laid out on her bed. She picks it up and remembers her mother wearing something red and long and beautiful once, maybe when Wanda was three.

"Stunning," comments Vision as he floats through the walls.

"Vision!" she complains.

"My abilities don't appear to change through time and space," Vision comments, studying his own arms with a sense of wonder.

Wanda fights a smile.

"But that dress is lovely," Vision adds.

"I haven't even tried it on yet."

"I'm predicting the future."

Wanda stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"You looked sad, though," he says, watching her with concern.

"I was just thinking about my mother. And my father, and my brother." Wanda sets the dress down. Sunlight spills through the towering windows. "I feel bad for Thor."

"He still has his brother."

"Whom he can't openly acknowledge." Wanda shakes her head. "When my parents died, I still had Pietro. And then when everyone was torn over the Avengers, and we saw Stark's name and we hated him, when we joined Strucker… we were together. And sometimes I still have to remind myself he's gone." She sniffs.

Vision's hand rests on her shoulder. "He would be proud of what you're doing."

Wanda lifts her head. "He would be mad that he couldn't join us."

Vision laughs.

"I felt like I died when he died," Wanda says, remembering when she stumbled towards Ultron, just wanting it to be over, not caring about herself. And then Vision found her. Even though she didn't care to live, he wanted her to. You helped me feel alive again. She kisses him, deeply this time. She doesn't care that he's a cyborg. She's an enhanced witch. Neither of them should be here, but they are.

Wanda attends the funeral for Odin down on the docks, where Thor shoots an arrow into a boat that sails towards the edge of the world. He does not cry, but Loki, still disguised, does.

And Wanda steps closer and puts her hand on his shoulder. Live. Please live.

There's hope for you.


"How are you both doing?" Sif asks as she appears in the doorway to Thor's chambers. Loki sits with a cup of mead in his hand. He casts her a skeptical look as if to say we both know you don't care about me.

"I always thought he would be around to help me," Thor says as he stares into his own cup. "But he isn't."

"I spoke to the Warriors Three. We're with you, Thor. When we go to take on Thanos."

There's no time to rest or grieve during war. Thor nods. "The Guardians should arrive in three days."

"I was thinking," Sif begins, biting her lip as she glances from Loki to Thor. "That we might have another weapon to use. In addition to the Infinity Gauntlet."

"What one?" Thor asks. He already didn't like placing the Tesseract in it.

"You have the Casket, don't you?" Sif asks Loki.

He blanches. "Why?"

"It could be useful against Thanos."

"If I use it, I turn into a Frost Giant," Loki retorts. "No."

Sif's eyes flash. "So your vanity matters more than the earth's—"

"You don't get to call it vanity," Loki snarls. "Not after hundreds of years of saying how much you loathe the Frost Giants, how much better the universe would be if all those monsters were wiped—"

"It's not going to change the fact that you are a—"

"And that's what makes me so evil to you, is it?"

"Stop!" Thor slams his mug down. "You both must stop."

"I don't mean that at all," Sif says, her voice shaking. "I( only meant that you might be able to help us, Loki. How is that monstrous?"

"Don't pretend you haven't hated me for—"

"It had nothing to do with that—I didn't even know—"

"But you felt justified when you found out, didn't you?" Loki's eyes glitter, and his ragged voice tells Thor he gets no pleasure out of this.

"I didn't," Thor says. "I felt—I was ashamed, Loki. I could have—I was wrong. All these years."

"You were my friend, Loki. We didn't get along, no, but I didn't hate you until I saw you trying to manipulate Thor out of the throne," Sif tells him.

"So you had a monster as your friend?' Loki mocks.

"No, Loki, I had you as my friend." Sif glares at him. "I don't know whether I'll ever fully forgive you, but I want you to try and help, for Thor's sake, and for your own, believe it or not. Because you're capable of far more than petty tricks and betrayals. I hope your father's death taught you that." She steps back.

"Sif!" Thor protests.

"I know that's my fault!" Loki shouts. "You don't have to—"

"If you use the Casket, I honestly think we'll have a better chance, but you're reverting to putting your own needs above everyone else's yet again!"

"You don't know what it's like!"

"No, I don't," she admits. "But Loki—"

"I couldn't bear it—I couldn't stand it if—everyone can't see me like that," Loki insists. "I'd rather die."

"Did you ever consider that maybe being Jotun isn't entirely a bad thing?" Sif retorts. "Maybe you can use it for good?"

"Maybe Jotuns are just like humans and like Asgardians," Thor before as he downs his mead. It stings the back of his throat. "They can make their own choices." Maybe in seeking to avoid what you fear about what you are, you've become the very thing you fear.

"I'll think about it," Loki says shortly, ending the conversation.

Sif nods. "Good night."

The door slams behind her. Thor turns to his brother.

"I can't do it," Loki says to him, eyes wide, terrified. "I can't."

"That's okay," Thor insists. He watches as his brother rises and paces, and for the first time since childhood, Thor realizes he's seeing some of his brother's vulnerability.

You trust me again. It's a beautiful thought, and so, so bitter to taste.

"No, it isn't. I don't think the Casket will be all that helpful, but—I don't want to—"

"You don't have to," Thor says, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. "We'll figure out another way." He clasps Loki's head. "I promise you."

Loki's lips curl into as smile. Thor half expects to be deigned a fool. Instead, Loki's head melts and he rests against Thor's shoulder in exhaustion.

"I'll talk to Sif," Thor promises.

"Do you love Sif?"

"What?" Thor blinks.

"You should," Loki tells him, pushing him away.

"What do you—"

Loki grabs one of the books Thor studied, all those months ago, and pages through it, vulnerability gone from all but the glimmer in his eyes and their memories. "Go kiss her, you big oaf. She probably thinks she's offended you."

Thor frowns. "She did. A little."

"Are you willing to overlook it?"

"Are you?"

"Sif's been in love with you since we were children, Thor, and I have put up with too much of her mooning. So has Hogun. And Fandral. And Volstagg. Go, please."

Thor isn't sure if this is a test and he's failing it. Loki's eyes narrow. "Thor. She's brave and smart and fiercely, fiercely loyal to you. You couldn't have anyone better." His voice softens.

You're sincere, aren't you?

Thor strides out of the room, heart pounding in his chest. Norns, he's nervous.

He finds Sif drinking with Fandral and Hogun. Volstagg hovers over a table covered in the remains of the funeral feast. A celebration of Father's life, supposedly, even if Thor could barely be there.

"Look who's here!" Fandral crows, rising with a chalice in his hand.

Should he ask to talk to her privately? Or just do it here?

"Thor, are you all right?" Fandral asks.

"Is it Loki?" Sif leaps to her feet.

"No, Sif," Thor says, a laugh escaping. "It's you."

"What?" Her jaw drops, and Thor grabs her shoulders and kisses her, and she kisses him back. She does love him. Loki was right, and this—this right here, with Sif—is right.

"Finally!" cheers Volstagg. Fandral laughs and laughs.

When Thor pulls away, even Hogun's smiling. Sif's eyes are wide in disbelief. "What was that for?"

Thor shrugs. "I think it was long overdue."