Quite a bit of people were questioning the last chapter, especially asking why Loki doesn't think of writing down everything.
First, I want to say, sorry for the spelling and grammar errors of the last chapter. I've actually sat down to look through this chapter for once and holy cow you guys my writing SUCKS when I write things for the first draft. I still probably have a lot of errors because I suck but I apologize in advance.
Second, I don't recall what I did and did not leave in the final cut of each chapter. I thought I mentioned earlier that Loki stays away from writing down things in order to communicate either, but it's possible that it never made it to the final revision, and I apologize for not making that clear.
Third, I'd like to make clear any confusion: it's not talking that Loki's afraid of. In fact, I wouldn't want to narrow it down to say he's just afraid of communication either. He doesn't want to exist anymore, and if communication happens to be a proof that he exists and affects others (and he generally associates himself with having a bad effect nowadays for unsurprising reasons), then he'll deny it. Throughout the progression of the story he seemed to have been getting better (at least, he makes an effort to be understood) but when he was confronted with a side of himself that he hated, he doesn't want to subject others to it and hides in himself. It's kind of like how you wouldn't give a whiteboard and marker to a shy/introverted/depressed/distrusting person just because they won't be honest with you and expect them to feel more comfortable writing things down to show you. Loki's silence, literal and figurative, is a choice, but it's a very emotional choice, and how often does emotion and logic come with the same conclusions?
Yes, it's been +30 chapters and Loki still hasn't talked, and in Avengers-time that's probably several months, but do remember that he's spent about +100 years developing the twisted understanding that he doesn't deserve to, so he's going to take a while.
Sorry for any confusion I made in earlier chapters...just wanted to clear things up now in case it still didn't make much sense. I think you'll see in this chapter, though, that the situation isn't hopeless, per se.
"Stark, where is he?"
Tony didn't turn to look at Natasha. There were shadows underneath his eyes and a plethora of conflicting emotions was evident on his face. Natasha was undaunted by his obvious distress; she couldn't let herself rest.
"Where is he?" she repeated.
"You are not going to Loki at this time," Tony said. It wasn't harsh, and strangely enough not an order.
"Don't you tell me what I will or will not do," said Natasha.
"No, you won't," said Tony, turning sharply to her. "He's unstable, he's mentally off the map—what makes you think you can get through him?"
"I'm not trying to play therapist," said Natasha, gripping her hands into fists. "I just want to see him. I want to make sure he's all right."
"Well, surprise," said Tony. "He's not. He's not all right in the slightest."
"And you think it's okay to just leave him alone to deal with everything himself?" said Natasha.
"No—I just think you're not the person to do anything about it right now," said Tony. "Thor's with him. Thor's the only one that would know what's going on in Loki's head right now, he's his brother—"
"I can too," said Natasha. "Loki opens up to me. He would be honest with me."
"Would he?" said Tony. "You, over his big brother?"
"This isn't a matter of competition," said Natasha. "If he can have two people understand him, then that is far better than one. You've got to let me go to him, Stark."
"Natasha— " Tony heaved a sigh and leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples. There was still blood under his fingernails from trying to clean the mess that Loki had left in the room; he refused to let Dummy or Steve do it. "I don't know, all right? Maybe I really don't know what's going on his mind, so I don't know what he wants, but he just went and shanked someone, then tried to bash in his own skull. I think he just needs some rest."
"He needs someone that can assure him that he's not alone," said Natasha. "I know he's scared right now. He's scared of himself and of what he's done. He's shocked, he's angry, he hates himself. He has always hated himself. He can't be alone with those thoughts, Stark. I care about him and I want him to know that. Can't I do that much?"
Tony watched her intently, as if this was the first time he ever saw her fully and all this time he had only viewed her in a haze with cheesecloth glasses. He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall before gesturing for her to follow him.
"Don't ask questions," said Tony. "When you see where he is—don't get angry. It was for his own good, okay?"
"Don't tell me you put him in a straitjacket," she said, the blood draining from her face.
"Of course not," said Tony. "But I needed to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself or anything."
Natasha could only fear the worst as she followed Tony to the lower levels of the tower. Tony and Steve had subdued Loki—or, at least, taken him out of the cell—and Loki had not reappeared since, leaving the dead prisoner to rot and haunt them, dripping down the walls. She watched JARVIS' security footage of what transpired in the cell. She could deduce nothing—Loki stood stock still while Gath spoke, until Loki rushed forward and stabbed Gath repeatedly, drenching the both of them in blood.
The sight of Loki killing so crudely, so violently, brought shivers down her spine. He needed little effort to kill, but here he was driven nearly mad.
Finally, Tony stopped at a door and unlocked it with a keypad. He cracked the door open just a mite, peering through the crack, before entering. Natasha quickly followed and winced at the sight of the room. It was very empty, save a bare bed. No windows—only padded walls and floor, as if Tony had stolen the room straight from a mental asylum.
Loki was in the corner of the room, his back turned toward them as he curled up on the floor. Thor was beside him, speaking softly so that neither Tony nor Natasha could hear. The two brothers looked so raw, so vulnerable, that Natasha felt a lump form in her throat.
"What kind of room is this?" she said to Tony.
"It was for just in case," said Tony, and he left it at that.
Natasha pursed her lips before stepping cautiously toward Loki and Thor. Thor turned his head slightly when Natasha caught his attention. He watched her warily before whispering something to Loki and standing up, coming to her.
"Agent Romanoff," said Thor.
"How is he?" she said.
Thor's eyes darted toward Loki. "He will not react to me. He will not even look at me. I do not know if he truly hears me."
Natasha swallowed hard. "Is he—is he injured in any way?"
"The good doctor has tended to his needs," said Thor, though his voice sounded unusually empty. "But he does nothing, as if he's trying to be nothing."
Natasha glanced at Loki. He had not moved a single inch, leaning tiredly against the wall. She couldn't see his face, and her eyes were drawn to his fingers curled on the floor. There were ruddy crusts of blood behind the crescents of his nails.
"Can I talk to him?" she said.
Thor hesitated. "I don't know," he said.
"You don't think he'll want to listen to me," she said.
"I do not fear that," said Thor. His voice became thick. "I am selfishly afraid that he will listen to you, and that in the end I cannot be the one to heal him."
Natasha put a hand on his shoulder, but Thor shook his head and gave her a sad smile.
"It matters not," he said. "If you can be the one to help him, and if you will, then I will want nothing more."
"You're so good to him," said Natasha. "Don't you think anything differently, Thor Odinson. You really are help to him."
"Thank you, Agent Romanoff," said Thor. He bowed his head before crouching next to Loki again, speaking softly to his unresponsive brother and kissing him lightly on the top of his head before rising again and following Tony out of the room. Tony closed the door behind them, leaving Natasha and Loki alone in the padded room.
She stepped slowly toward Loki before sinking to the floor next to him. Loki was staring passively at the wall, having no reaction to her. She wondered if his mind was truly still in his body.
"Hey," she said. "It's me."
He blinked, and she took that as an answer.
"Loki," she said.
If only you could speak to me.
"I think I know what you're going through," she said.
He made no gesture of disbelief, so she continued.
"You're shocked at yourself, at what you did. This, along with—with other things that happened lately. You hate yourself, and you think—you think you're a monster. You don't want to be yourself anymore. You're—you're—"
She didn't know how to go on, but it hurt her heart to say what she was certain Loki thought. She put a hand on his and his knuckles twitched—his fingers stiffened, and the fact that he reacted to her made her feel relieved.
"Listen to me, Loki," said Natasha. "You aren't a monster. You aren't. Whether you think it's because you're a Frost Giant—or of what happened, it's—it's not true. You don't see how much—how much muchness there is about you. You aren't a killer, Loki. You aren't a killer. Look at you, you're guilty for killing someone that hurt you. Killing isn't right, but just look at you—you know that, you know it's not right and you're guilty and monsters don't feel guilt, Loki. Monsters don't feel anything. You're not a monster."
She was rambling. She was wordless and speechless and yet sound came from her mouth. She didn't know how to comfort people, or assure people, or any of that. She was an assassin, not a decent human being.
But her heart still ached for him.
"Loki, I don't know what to say," she said. "I don't know what to say, because I can't put anything in words. I can't put the fact that I know how much more you are in words. I can't put into words how I know you're not a monster and you never will be because that's the truth, that's the plain facts, and you can't use something as small and volatile as words to prove something like that, just as words don't prove whether God does or does not exist, or just as words of love aren't what is love, or—or—"
If only she could let him in her mind, let him understand what she couldn't articulate. Let him see the truth about him, the truth about how much he was to her, how much he mattered. How much she cared.
"What I'm trying to say is that—you are never a monster to me. You never will be. When I see you, when I'm with you, I don't think that I'm with anything else or anything less than Loki, you, the man I've shared stories with, explored the city with, shared things I was afraid of with—what you've ever done, where've you been, that doesn't change that for me. I know you—I want to know you through and through, and I don't ever want to turn back. Because Loki—you are worth knowing and you are worth understanding. So you can be mute all you want, I will try to listen to you. You can be as unresponsive and you can ignore me all you want, but I will keep trying to reach out to you, because I want to—I want you to be you."
You don't know what you say, said the way he closed his eyes and pressed a hand against his lips. You don't know what you say and what if you realize later and you understand what I am? What if you leave me as you should? What if I'm not worth your cost? What if what if what if?
"I've seen you at your best and your worst, Loki," she said. "So has Thor, and so has practically everyone here in this tower. And you know what? We're still here, waiting for you to come back, wanting for you to be happy with us, and most of all with yourself."
She put her hands on his shoulders and gently turned him to face her. His eyes fell upon her face, and she realized just how brilliantly green they were, like precious jewels. Precious.
Just how dear she realized he was to her made her nearly unable to breathe.
"Loki," she said.
She placed a hand upon his chest. Behind his injured ribs, she felt it, as soft and delicate as a song—his heartbeat. It felt so comforting and assuring under her fingers. To feel how very alive Loki was—it nearly made her own heart skip a beat.
"You're so alive," she said, and she laughed at her own comment. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her ear against his heartbeat and listening to it echo in her head. It was better than any opera, any song, any honeyed words.
"You're so alive and real and you have no idea how happy that makes me," said Natasha.
And the moment that Loki's arms wrapped around her, tightly, desperately, made warmth blossom inside of her. He held her and she held him, and she could hear his heartbeat, steadily, reassuringly, beautifully, warm against her cheek, and she realized—with both shock and understanding, that she didn't want to let him go.
Thank you, said the ways he embraced her so closely that they could have melted into each other's bones if they tried—that they could have become whole. Thank you thank you thank you and I
But no words were ever needed.
The days were silent, but danced on busy fingers. Healing was not immediate, if Natasha could so call it healing (not if she was doing it), but Loki was no longer unresponsive. He did not speak, still, but he let himself express, and he worked. His hands created thoughts, and for now, it was enough. A hundred and some years of believing one way could not possibly be curbed easily by one moment, but so long as a step was taken in the right direction, she could not be any more thankful.
Loki worked endlessly in Tony's labs when he emerged. The labs were inhabited with protective gear of all sizes, from Tony's discarded models of his Iron Man suit to rollerblading elbow pads, until Tony—hooting with laughter—tossed them. Once Loki had managed to sneak Steve's shield into his studies and Steve did not notice until two days later. When indignantly confronted, Loki frowned disapprovingly as if Steve was being terribly impolite before resuming his close work with some of Clint's protective gloves.
Only Tony and Thor were allowed in the lab. Thor, because he was the one that understood Loki thoroughly, and Tony, because there were times when Loki could not figure out how to use a drill press. Otherwise, no one else saw Loki, as he rarely left the labs, except for the one moment when Thor begged Loki go on a 'coffee date' with him downtown (the result was that all of Tony's coffee makers mysteriously disappeared and later were found piled in Loki's closet) and when Natasha took him to the library (this time he disappeared for hours and left Natasha clues of his whereabouts as if to take her along a cat-and-mouse scavenger hunt, and by the time she found him he had already 'corrected' every book on Norse mythology in every library branch in the city).
Natasha would watch Loki's progress through JARVIS' security cameras. For hours Loki would scrutinize every inch of each scrap of metal, each weapon in his hands, before carefully manipulating it with the scepter that he kept with him, magic thrumming thickly from its tip as if Loki was glassblowing with steel. Or playing Operation with his own fingers, gloved with the golden glow of his power.
She could see how it drained him, even though he used his own magic sparingly and took lengthy rests in between to rebuild, but she couldn't just take off and slap him silly for doing it. She wasn't technically supposed to know, after all.
But she watched as Loki would test blades against Tony's discarded suits of armor, shaking his head disappointedly every time and re-testing the armor after tampering with them with unseen power. Magic, she reckoned grimly, had something to do with it, but being mortal made her half-blind.
She watched him prick his fingers with his blades, studying the wound until with a simple snap of the fingers, he healed the wound and bent over the weapons to tinker with them further. She watched him work until he collapsed in a metal chair and dozed off, in which she would surreptitiously leave a cup of tea and a sandwich on the workshop table for him by the time he woke up. She didn't watch him eat it, if he ever did, but it was never around anymore the next time she checked on him.
And she could have sworn that once he looked up at the camera and winked.
She thought of how his eyes watched her mischievously from the other side of the bookshelf in the library as she finally reached the last clue of his scavenger hunt, as if they were in a second-rate movie, and she parted the books that separated them just to slap him for hiding from her for so long.
He could be such a tease, sometimes.
Natasha could still feel how dearly and desperately he held her that day, in the lonely room. How he held her in such a way that said, I care for you and I will always care for you in a way that no one else ever had, has, or will.
She shuddered and closed her eyes.
Loki was far from innocent. He had just killed a prisoner on top of many mortals, after all, and she could still see how it haunted him in the shadows of his eyes, how he would look up from his work without warning and sit so still and stiff just remembering, and how he would slowly slide back into his work with hesitant hands and a heavy conscience. He was far from innocent, but she knew a naïve soul when she met one. By the way he held her, looked at her, smiled at her, all screamed I've never done this before…I've never thought this before…I've never felt this before…
It didn't matter which exact sentiment enveloped him, the fact remained. Natasha knew that Loki felt a closeness, an inexplicable emotion—platonic or not—toward a liar, a killer, and a guilty soul, if she still even had one at this point.
Barton told me everything.
No, he couldn't have. Because Natasha knew there were things that she held from Clint, nightmares and crimes that she couldn't bear to tell Clint in fear that she would lose him forever, that he would never trust her. Even now, when her friendship with Clint was far deeper than any crime could drive a stake through, she feared herself and her truth, and it bundled itself within her like a tumor until she swelled with cancerous self-hatred.
And now Loki, in his naïve, foolish, idiotic ingenuousness, looked at her as if she was someone worth admiring, as if she was whole, as if he was the most incompetent God of lies because he couldn't look past hers, couldn't find her truth.
The secrets curdled inside of her until it rotted, fermented into poison—a black stain within her until it couldn't be ripped away.
(She remembered how Loki drew the poison from Clint's wound and her heart jumped)
He couldn't know. No one could know—not Loki, not Clint, not Tony, not anyone. About the monsters that she remembered at night, bearing her face and name. They'd hate her—they'd hate her, and she wasn't as apathetic as she told herself she was. At the end of the day, these people—this ragtag band of misfit toys crammed in Stark Tower—were all she ever had. And if she had to live another day full of regret and emptiness, waiting to die alone, she would be driven mad. She knew it.
No one in this tower was ever innocent, but none could ever be as guilty as she.
(But she wanted to tell. She wanted to break open that metal box which compartmentalized her rawest thoughts and let them pour out, until their weight fell from her shoulders, until someone could look her in the eye and say, now I know. Now I know)
"Hey, Nat?"
Natasha immediately banished JARVIS' holographic screen of security footage just as Thor had entered the lab with Loki. She turned around and saw Clint at the door.
"Yeah?" she said.
"It's nearly two, want to grab some lunch?" he said.
She thought of how she couldn't be the one to fix Clint in the end, and she felt a pang of jealousy for the lucky woman who would.
"Sure," said Natasha.
She thought of how Clint couldn't be the one to fix her in the end, and felt a pang of fear at the wonder if there existed such a person at all.
"Loki, are you sure this is a good idea?"
Loki rolled his eyes as he positioned one of Stark's old machine guns onto the metal table. Thor watched Loki warily, shifting the metal sheet on its stand to keep straight. He was not so unaware of the pile of scrapped, utterly stripped pieces of metal in the corner and the scrapes along the wall of misaimed weapons.
"I think the last shield was a lot more effective," Thor said, hoping it was of some help. Loki shook his head, narrowing his eyes as he aimed the barrel toward the round metal shield. "At least, it reflected more than half of the bullets."
Loki waved a hand as if to say, Not good enough.
"Thanos plans to wage war, doesn't he?" Thor said. "That is why you bother testing how to better protect. There's a threat, and it will come soon."
Loki chewed in the inside of his cheek and nodded. He didn't take his eyes off of his aim.
"I should have wagered," said Thor. "This is Thanos we speak of. If anything would kill enough people to please death, it would be war."
He couldn't help but wonder if he was ever as warmongering as Thanos was and suppressed a wince.
"Where does he plan to strike?" said Thor. "Asgard?"
Loki nodded again. His bottom jaw twitched.
"Elsewhere as well?" said Thor. "Midgard too?"
A nod.
"All the Nine Realms?" said Thor.
A grimace, and a short nod. Thor ran a tired hand over his face.
"I should have known," said Thor. "Mother said that Jotunheim was accusing Asgard of launching attacks, when it must have been Thanos and his ploys all along. And Alfheim has been silent, undoubtedly preoccupied by threats."
Loki tossed to Thor a pair of plastic earmuffs. Thor fitted them over his ears until all he could hear was the muffled echo of the insides of his ears pounding against the side of his head. Loki pulled his own pair over his ears and steadied the machine gun. He laced his finger on the trigger before launching a volley of shots toward the shield.
The first rounds of bullets scattered, ricocheting off the shield without leaving a single mark and precariously rebounding onto the walls and shelves, scattering Tony's tools. Loki took the spear and positioned its tip onto the receiver, letting a thin pool of its power pour into the bullets. The shots, swathed in electric blue power, pummeled the shield, leaving dents but no penetration until the last round of shots punctured straight through the metal.
Loki powered down the machine gun, a scowl of frustration on his face. Thor pulled off his earmuffs and treaded carefully through the puddles of discarded cartridges and bullets toward the battered shield. He wrenched it off the stand, the metal hot at the touch from the attack.
"It was still more effective than the last time," said Thor, remembering how Loki blew a clean, large hole through the middle of one of his test shields in the first fifteen seconds. "What did you use this time? A rebounding spell?"
Loki nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. He kicked aside a pool of brass cartridges to make his way to Thor. He took the shield from Thor's hands and squinted at the torn bits of metal, knocking a knuckle on the shield. A tint of red shimmered across the metal at his touch.
"So—an amalgam of a rebounding spell, along with strength enhancement, force reduction, and…fire resistance," said Thor, trying to scribble this down in memory. "Though, any shield from Asgard would already be stronger than whatever metal you find on Midgard. Even these Midgardian weapons could not shatter them.
And any Chitauri weapon would be stronger than this, said Loki in the way he crushed his heel in the gathering of cartridges at his feet.
Thor pursed his lips, running a hand through his hair. He certainly was no stranger to Chitauri weapons, and their technology far surpassed both Asgard's and Midgard's, save the rocket weapon that Tony had directed toward the mother ship; unless all of Asgard's forces had a weapon similar to Gungnir or Mjölnir, they were essentially hopeless.
However, the fact that Loki thought he could create magically enhanced weapons and shields without any lore in blacksmith or the Dwarf arts of weaponry was a little too hopeful even for Thor. Spells could only go so far; Mjölnir was by no means a mere good-luck charm.
"How are your knives?" said Thor. "Do they fly any farther?"
Loki made a hand gesture that said, So-and-so, before tossing the shield aside to join its fallen brethren. Thor turned back to the notepad in his memory, trying to take in everything that Loki had at least gestured to him and piece them into a tangible, coherent puzzle.
Enhancement reduction rebounding resistance
All the Nine Realms
Thanos: Has a Gem. Power, Time, Reality? Space?
Not Mind
Gauntlet in Asgard
If the swiftness of a dagger counteracts the power enhancement spell then its acceleration must double in order to exact palpable damage to
DO NOT TOUCH THE SWORD IN THE GLASS CASE
Only sorcerers can activate the multiplication of the arrows—needs direct flow of seidr
Two months—approximately eight weeks—sixty days
NO POPPING TARTS ALLOWED IN WORKSPACE
"But two months is far from enough time to arm all of the Nine Realms with your own version of shields," said Thor. "Even if Thanos takes one realm at a time, there would not be enough time. And I wouldn't be surprised if he would rather strike all the realms at once to get it over with."
Loki nodded, scowling.
"But what of Midgard?" said Thor. "We cannot let Midgard fall on its own."
Loki punched Thor lightly on the shoulder as if to say, That's why you're here.
"And Jotunheim?" said Thor.
Loki hesitated before busying himself with the collection of Clint's spare bows he laid out on the table.
"Jotunheim has little to protect herself with, Loki," said Thor. "She was already struggling to stay on her feet even before…well, before the Bifröst incident, and they are no better off now."
Loki shot a look at Thor over his shoulders that clearly asked since when did Thor care so much. Thor felt a brush of indignation at Loki's reaction; Thor had not been banished on the day of his coronation for nothing.
"Do you truly think it so impossible of me to change the way I see the worlds?" said Thor. "I know I let my tongue slip against them, but that does not mean I do not worry of their welfare."
Loki shrugged noncommittally and lifted one of the bows from the table. He drew back the string, his poise impeccable, testing the strength of the bow.
"I had dealt with the diplomatic relationship with Jotunheim once the Bifröst was restored, you know," said Thor. "After the sorceresses formed a tentative replacement, the first trips taken were mine to Jotunheim to apologize and restore a truce."
Loki turned toward Thor.
"Our peace is—well, delicate," said Thor. He kicked around the cartridges on the floor as an absentminded tic. "The new leader—the queen—is reasonable and favors order over grudges. There was a great while of anarchy in Jotunheim, though—when Laufey first died and the realm nearly destroyed. But a dictator and a coup d'etat later, Jotunheim has an able ruler on her throne."
Loki scratched dust off of Clint's bows as if uninterested, but Thor saw how his eyes were bright and attentive, and how carefully he moved as to not muddle Thor with cluttered white noise.
"We paid Jotunheim penance in bullion and aid to help them rebuild," said Thor, "but they still suffer from instability in their ranks and a famine ever since their realm's half-destruction. Without help, they will surely die."
Loki looked away, running his hand down the black bow. Thor sighed and sat himself on a stool, watching his brother cautiously.
"I know that there are…discrepancies between you and Jotunheim," said Thor. "But no realm, no people, deserves Thanos' wrath. They shall be our allies, I assure you. And Asgard will see that. Asgard will no longer be as ignorant and harsh as they have been."
Good luck with that, said Loki's dry smile.
"When I am king," said Thor, "I'll go to the Jotuns and take arms alongside them all."
Loki's gaze flickered to the floor before he swiftly pulled back the bow and aimed it at the wall, releasing the string with a thick twang. Even though he did not string the bow, an arrow shot from the weapon and sank into the wall, leaving ripped plaster.
He nodded at the bow approvingly before tossing it to Thor. Thor caught it, the bow delicate and light in his heavy hands. He drew the string back just as Loki did, his gaze centered on the spot on the wall still unmarred by Loki's experiments, before releasing the metal cord. A conjured arrow shot from the bow landed perfectly in the last stretch of perfectly white wall.
"Impressive spell," said Thor. "Though, our archers would yet feel more comfortable with their quivers upon their backs."
Loki let the bow fall from his hand, wandering to the battered wall. Thor couldn't see Loki's face, but he saw the way Loki braced his shoulders stiffly as if to ward off any physical contact, how he stared down at his hand that clenched and unclenched into a fist.
Thor stepped toward him and gently laid a hand on Loki's arm. Loki jerked back, as if he did not expect for his arm to experience any sensation—as if it was not a part of him, but a foreign tumor.
"Let yourself rest, Loki," said Thor. "The more you use your magic, the stronger the Mind Gem becomes."
Loki clenched his teeth and hid his hand. He bent down to retrieve discarded arrows from the floor. Thor wondered if he imagined Loki's hand shaking, or if he imagined the chill coming from Loki's touch.
"Loki," said Thor.
Loki jerked his head slightly to acknowledge Thor.
"Should these weapons and shields work—even if we can push off Thanos' forces, what then?" said Thor. "Thanos is as immortal as we, and there will come a time when both our forces will dissipate." He swallowed hard. "And what of you? Will the Mind Gem curse you forever?"
Loki turned his head a millimeter toward Thor. He bit the tip of his tongue—tense, stone still—before cracking a wry smile and shrugging a shoulder. He bundled the arrows together and walked away from Thor, engaging himself in tidying Tony's encumbered workshop.
Thor felt his heart sink and he reached out to grab Loki's sleeve before Loki could slip away.
"You know something more, don't you?" said Thor. "You know something but you will not tell me."
Loki's cynical humor dried on his face until it crackled with age and nothingness. He tried to pull away, but Thor's grip was too desperate.
"What is it that you know?" said Thor. "If it will aid the well-being of any of the realms, Jotunheim or Vanaheim or anywhere, I beseech you to tell me immediately."
Loki shook his head, shedding his hollow grin. He raised his hand, but stopped himself halfway and let it fall aimlessly to his side.
"If it is of your own well-being," said Thor, "I beg that you do not keep me in the dark. I know you, how in your most desperate times you will not truly cry for help. Even if your life depends on it."
He took Loki gently by the shoulders and turned him so that he would face him. Loki locked his eyes on Thor, but focused on a stray strand of hair or a speck on his cheek, never letting Thor into his mind.
"Will you not help me help you?" said Thor.
Loki nudged Thor's hands away from him and returned to his work, his hands flitting with magic over his weapons meticulously. Thor watched, the awe of magic he once held now a hollow reminder that it was what dragged Loki further and further away from him, in both mind and spirit. There was a shimmer—Thor nearly missed it if he had not cared—upon Loki's visage, as if a haze masked him, until it was gone as soon as it came. And Thor knew.
Even for a god of lies, it ought to be considered cheating to use the magic of glamour to cloak the truth.
"You know, Fury, I really don't like talking to people on the phone."
"Well that's funny, because I was under the impression you couldn't care less talking to me in any other situation."
Tony took a gulp of his water bottle before turning back to his phone. "Fair statement. Can you blame me, though? You can be a really tight-ass sometimes."
"Stark."
"Right. Respect and manners. If I don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all, yada yada." Tony rubbed his throbbing forehead. "Listen, can you call back later? I'm dealing with a killer hangover from like, a week ago still."
"What happened a week ago that sent you into an alcoholic stupor?" said Fury.
"That's my stuff to worry about," said Tony. "What are you doing, calling me in the middle of the day? Want a play date? Sorry, pal, you gotta book it with my secretary, except I gave her a promotion. So I guess you're out of luck."
"Your innocent act is running thin, Stark," said Fury.
"No idea what you're talking about," said Tony.
"The security tapes have been tampered with," said Fury, "we've got blood residue in a storage room. There are recent traces of Agent Hill's thumbprint is on a scanner when she hasn't been down in the basement for a good four weeks. And my agents are dead."
Tony opened his mouth, then closed it. He waited in silence for what Fury had to say next.
"What I want to know," said Fury, "is why you SOBs infiltrated our headquarters to get a goddamn scepter that only one asshole in particular would be able to wield."
Tony gritted his teeth and filled the silence with another gulp of water.
"Vulk wasn't our fault, you know," said Tony.
"No," Fury said. "I didn't think so. But blame doesn't really make a difference to her family when they found out she won't be sitting at the table for the next Thanksgiving."
"I told you, we had nothing to do with her death," Tony said, his voice roughing up on the edges with indignation. "Look, the blood isn't our fault either, not technically, and all we wanted was to get the damn scepter and get out."
"Do you understand what that scepter can do in the hands of Loki?" said Fury.
"I know pretty well what can happen if it isn't in his hands," said Tony. "We would have asked nicely, Fury, if the rest of SHIELD didn't seem like they wanted to put his head on the chopping block."
Fury was stiffly silent, but Tony did not feel the satisfactory sense of victory.
"His magic is dangerous enough as it is," said Fury.
"It would be even more dangerous if he didn't have anything to channel it with," said Tony. "You saw how it exploded in the headquarters. With a scepter, he has more control over it."
"That was another thing I needed to talk to you about," said Fury.
Tony felt cold premonition trickle through his veins. "Shit. No. I'm putting my foot down."
"Your foot has been stomping all over the place demanding things go your way," said Fury. "You think people should get away scotch-free when they kill?"
"It wasn't his fault," said Tony. "You try keeping people safe when you have a grenade in your chest and you can't control when it blows up."
"Someone has to do something for this, Stark," said Fury. "Fifteen agents were killed from that, a good forty-three injured. And whether or not it was on purpose, there's no denying that it was his doing."
"Then what do you want to do?" said Tony. "Lock him up for eternity? Put him on trial at the Supreme Court? I don't know much about law, Fury, but I don't think you punish a landlord when an outside arsonist sets their apartment and tenants on fire."
"So you can sleep fine after fifteen families lose someone because of a supposed accident," said Fury. "I guess that's understandable, considering your past."
Tony felt his mind melt into acid.
"What do you want, a fine? I'll pay the fine. I'll pay you a billion dollars, right here and right now. Is that it?" said Tony. "Is that what it will take to leave me alone?"
"People's lives aren't priced with money, Stark."
"I know," said Tony, and he felt shame simmer inside of him. "Okay. That wasn't good of me. I admit that. Look, Fury, I'm sorry that those people lost their lives. I am. It's just that I know—I know—that Loki doesn't deserve whatever punishment you want to dish out."
"The Council demands a trial," said Fury.
Tony's stomach churned.
"They would give him a death sentence, hands down," Tony said. "Fury, you can't do that."
"There needs to be a trial, regardless of who implements it," said Fury. "Or do you think that those fifteen people who were killed should be tossed aside and forgotten about? You want me to have written the 'We deeply regret to inform you' letters to fifteen families and know that there will never be any justice, any explanation, any recompense for them except, sorry, your agent just had shit luck because we agreed to babysit an alien war criminal in the city he tried to destroy?"
Tony swallowed hard. He knew Fury had a point—that he couldn't ignore that at the end of the day, Loki's magic had killed people (that Tony's device had killed people), and many people at that, and nothing was being done for them. If he was in such a situation—if one day he found out that another person's incompetence had killed Pepper—he would never think the way he was thinking now. He would want justice—if not revenge.
It hurt to understand this.
"Then put me on trial," said Tony. "I'm the one responsible."
"Stark, that wasn't your magic."
"It was my device that made his magic do what it did," said Tony. "If Loki had a fire, I was the one who told him to use a fire extinguisher and ended up giving him a flamethrower instead. Yeah, it was an accident on my part, but it would have never happened if I wasn't there. It wouldn't have happened if I didn't make him use that arc reactor."
"They wouldn't consider putting you on trial, Stark," said Fury. "The Council wouldn't."
"Why not? I'll be a witness. I'll be my own prosecutor. I'll explain the hell out of it."
"SHIELD wants reparation," said Fury, "but the Council wants Loki."
Tony's breath caught in the middle of his throat.
"Loki's already paid justice for what he did in New York City," said Tony. "Is the Council still trying to hound him for that?"
"You do recall," Fury said, his voice bitter, "that the Council wasn't very turned off by the idea of nuking all of New York City to get rid of Loki and his army, right?"
"Then the Council can suck it. SHIELD families want some sort of restitution? Fine, I'll do what it takes to make it right. But the Council isn't going to get their hands on Loki if all they want is an execution."
Fury didn't say anything at first. After a moment of stiff silence, he gave an exasperated sigh.
"Since when did you become so protective over that son of a bitch, Stark?" said Fury.
"Trust me," said Tony. He couldn't help but give a grim smile. "When you're playing roommates with the guy, it's hard not to."