Loki woke in a chair, blinking away the bright glare of the TV screen as he struggled to sit up within the cocoon of blankets tucked meticulously around him, eyes narrowed to slits as he surveyed the living room. The drapes were pulled aside to reveal the night and all its glowing lights and stars and skyscrapers, all carefully watched over by the moon hanging overhead.

He shook his head to rid it of the foggy sensation falling upon it and looked at his bedroom door, which was closed-just like he'd left it. The room was silent, and the television was muted, and he wondered at the quiet atmosphere, guessing that Jane was downstairs sleeping, imagining Stark and Potts in their so-called 'guest' room on the same level. Thor was most likely in the room at the end of the hall that resided beside Loki's bedroom, but the trickster couldn't understand why he didn't just sleep with his mortal.

There was no telling where the others were, and Loki became uneasy with the lack of knowledge, the ignorance that came over him and threatened his security.

Romanoff was problematic, capable of sneaking but unable to sneak up on, and he'd admired her for the ability, but hated her for it just the same. She was him as he might have been, in a different place and different time, and the thought unnerved him more than he'd ever admit, both jealous of her life and terrified of his envy; envy was always the ghost of admiration, and he'd never be caught dead admiring her. Slowly, he stood, keeping an eye out for the Captain as he softly padded across the carpet.

Looking up at the clock, he was surprised to discover that the night was almost over.

Sighing, he went over and crossed the line of intersection between the living room and kitchen, where the plush carpet met the cold tile, and sat atop one of the bar stools, resting his head against the marble countertop. He could feel the cool surface against his cheek, but it didn't eradicate the warmth still remaining within him.

It was a live, burning thing, lessened by time but intensified by attention, and he closed his eyes in the hopes of a few more hours of sleep, wishing that he could shut down his thoughts to avoid becoming even more feverish from the fire inside him. He heard Frigga somewhere in his memories, and the flames eating him from the inside died down just the slightest as he smiled.

"No one knows, Loki," Frigga murmured laughingly, gazing down at Loki as he bounced alongside her down the palace hall, seven-year-old eyes sparkling up at her curiously as his eager fingers squeezed her own.

"But everyone has a name," he said plainly, baffled that not a soul had knowledge of the woman or her title.

"Mine is Loki." He gestured to himself with one small hand, green gaze wide and round as his dark hair fell down past his forehead and bounced up again as he all but ran beside her.

"Yours is Mother." She smiled at him and tightened her hold on his hand as the echo of his tiny footsteps sounded all around her.

"Is she nameless then?"

"No, Loki. She has a name, but it cannot be remembered." She leaned over and scooped him up into her arms, laughing as he wrapped his short arms around her neck lovingly, his warmth comforting as she rested her chin on his dark head of hair.

"There are rumors…" He perked up at this, and as he turned to gaze at her imploringly, she saw the flash of red in his eyes, the ghost of what he was beneath all the magic and glamour, the true Loki as he would never be, as he would never know, as he would never see. She didn't let her smile falter, though, and she whispered lowly to him, her blue eyes lit up with a mother's love, a mother's secret.

"They call her Grace."

With his eyes wide open, Loki looked possessed, glassily gazing at the world in his sleep, curled over the counter with his face turned away from the door. Tony waved a hand in front of the trickster's face and pulled back, wary.

"I still think he's faking it," he muttered as he turned to get the coffee filters out of the cabinet. Thor, seated beside his brother, shook his head and looked to the seat he'd moved out of his room for Loki the night before, blankets still wrapped upon the cushion as if Loki had crawled carefully out of them to keep their shape. And there he was at the counter, sleeping the day away when there was so much to be done, so much to be realized.

"He used to do this all the time; just be glad he didn't roam in his sleep last night." Tony swiveled on his heels, filter in hand, one brow raised.

"He sleepwalks?" Thor nodded, and Tony's shoulders slumped as he leaned against the counter behind him.

"Great." He turned back around to prepare the coffee maker, and Pepper watched him from her seat on one of the stools near him. Steve listened as he sat on the sofa, but he was distracted by his tedious efforts to pretend like he was watching his favorite show. Instead, he gazed protectively at Natasha, who stood by the floor length windows with her hands crossed behind her back, a bracelet donning one wrist. She had on a black undershirt, her jacket strewn on the back of Loki's chair, her hair curled at the ends. He thought it was natural, and blinked when he realized that he'd been staring too long.

"Absolutely perfect." Tony's muttering grew angered, and he slammed the sugar down on the counter.

"This is wonderful. Not only is there a murderer living with us, but he sleepwalks, too. Oh, boy! That's just awesome. Better sleep with one eye open, Pep."

Frowning, she reached over the counter and put a gentle hand on his arm, his muscles tense as he turned back around. He slammed the sugar again, and the noise woke Loki, who blinked and sat up with a start. Natasha was turned, then, and saw how Loki sat up, how ready his body seemed for a fight, how tense his posture was. She narrowed her eyes, and Steve turned to follow her gaze, eyeing him suspiciously. Thor smiled at Loki's wakefulness and clapped him on the shoulder, laughing.

"You look well-rested, brother." Unbeknownst to them, Tony, facing the cabinets, rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle from one of the cupboards, one with no label and housing a dark, thick liquid. Pepper watched him with a wary gaze, but ignored his actions for everyone else's sake, fingers shaking nervously as she drank her own cup of coffee.

Loki was confused, that much was clear, but he masked it well enough that only the spy glaring at him could discern the truth from his impassive expression. He cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on the counter, and nodded politely at Thor as the blonde retracted his hand, smiling at how Loki was finally calm, finally so collected among the people he'd claimed to have hated for so long.

"Panic attacks suit you, Stark," Loki drawled suddenly and casually, a smirk painting his features, and Steve drew his brows together in frustration.

"Hey! He can't help it, you know," he defended passionately, and Loki turned to send him a withering glare.

"Really?"

Steve stood, annoyed at Loki's lack of empathy.

"Yes, really! You're the whole reason he has those attacks, and you think you have the right to comment on them?" Thor got up from his chair and approached the captain as Tony looked on, panting as he tried to calm his pounding heart and shot nerves, and Thor placed a placating hand on Steve's arm, eyes sad.

"Captain, Loki still isn't well. He doesn't know-"

"Stop making up excuses for him!" He shook off Thor's arm and backed away, blue eyes bright with anger.

"Loki knows exactly what he's doing; he's always known! Every single thing he does is planned months in advance. He's not a child, Thor, and he's not that same little brother you're always talking about, like you can bring him back with a few kind words. He's gone."

He gestured to Loki, at his gaunt face, at the bones jutting out beneath the mortal clothes he wore, at the dark circles under his bright green eyes.

"Can't you see that?" Thor turned to Loki, and he looked so worn and saddened by Steve's words that Loki had to avert his gaze, jaw tensed as he ground his teeth together to keep his emotions from surfacing. Steve began again, but his voice was far gentler the second time around.

"All you've done so far is imprisoned him in his own mind. You haven't changed him; nothing ever will. He's done too much and gone too far for everything to magically go back to normal. Whatever you see when you look at him, Thor, whatever version of Loki that is staring back at you in your mind-that's not real. It never will be again."

Thor blinked and there were tears in his eyes, brightening his gaze and warming his face, and he stalked off across the room and down the stairs to Jane's room, the clothes she had bought him wrinkling around his aggravated muscles as he disappeared from view. Loki watched him go and was glad to be rid of his presence; at the moment, he'd had enough of his suffocating brother and the emotions that came with him. Steve deflated after Thor's exit and fell back onto the sofa, looking down at his hands as if there was blood coating his fingers, gaze horrified. Natasha watched him, and Loki noticed a glint of sadness in her eyes.

Tony turned and slid a cup of coffee onto the counter, frowning as he took one of his own and brought it to his lips.

"Drink up, Reindeer Games," he all but growled, and Loki's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Aren't you busy having one of your attacks?" The billionaire shrugged and swallowed a sip of the warm drink.

"I don't have time to entertain you." He held up another drink and gestured to Steve.

"Want some?" The Captain shook his head, and he shrugged before walking around the counter, watching how Loki glared at the cup before him. He hooked a finger around the handle and pulled it closer to inspect its contents.

"How do I know it's not poisoned?" Loki asked seriously, and Tony smirked at him.

"Pepper saw me make it, and Thor would kill me if I murdered you. But then again, it wouldn't be that bad of a way to die, if I took you down with me." He walked off, then, and Pepper rushed after him, her scolding whispers hot in his ear, and Loki's eyes followed him, a specific kind of loathing shining therein.

He left the cup steaming on the counter and walked off to his room, irritated and even more so at the unknown source of his aggravation. He slammed the door when he made it to his room, using enough force to make it shake the floor, using enough anger to wish it would bring the whole tower down, burying him and everyone else in the world amidst the rubble, never to resurface.

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