AN: Holy cow! Thank you so much for the reviews! Like, whoa! I was stunned! You guys rock! Also, thank you new followers and welcome! You are all awesome, and I am lucky to have you! Keep it up!
Here is the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks for reading, and I hope everyone in the US had a great mother's day!
Chapter 31: Press Play
Loki liked to think he wasn't stupid—on all of Asgard, he perhaps had one of the best minds. So when Stark had left him to watch over the laboratory, the prince knew he was being played. In no universe would the Avengers trust him—especially Stark. Nobody claiming to be a genius would leave him in a room full of weapons and computers filled to the brim with confidential information.
Narrowing his green eyes, the man walked around the expansive room filled with files and blueprints. On one of the desks he could see a picture of Stark and his female companion—they looked to be at a party—and others with the strawberry blond smiling brightly. There were others, of course: some warm photographs of Stark and a man named Rhodes—another with a man named Happy. Loki decided it was best that Asgard didn't have photography…he knew it would hurt too much to remember the good times.
Walking further into the lab, Loki's eyes glanced over a number of blueprints scattered sloppily across the many glass tabletops. Some of them were specially designed iron warriors, and others outlined the upgrades to Asgardian armor. Raising an eyebrow, the prince picked up a complicated blueprint that had the word "Rescue" written across the top in bold lettering-it looked as if Stark was no longer making suits only for himself.
And as he walked towards the computers in the room, something far more fascinating caught his eye. Putting his hand to the screen, man smirked as he saw a number of files littering the screen—the names of the various Avengers glowing brightly against the dark screen. Was this to be his test? Did Stark purposely plant the bait to see if he would betray them? It was a foolish plan, if that was the case—he no longer had need of such useless information. Barton had told him everything—and Stark was a fool if he thought he would fall for something so obvious.
But as he went to close the files, another bright glow on the screen caught his attention. In the corner of the screen, amongst the files for new armor and names of various heroes, was a name he new much better—his own. In seeing his name, a sharp shiver ran down the length of his spine, and after making sure he was alone, the god gave the glowing icon a fateful click.
Letting out a small gasp, Loki watched as the screen erupted with pages and pages of information. His face was now adorning the many pictures on the screen—his expression delirious and exhausted—and he couldn't help himself from feeling sick when he saw a video of his attack. He couldn't help himself from feeling the slightest bit guilty when he saw the photographs of the many SHIELD agents he had killed.
Clicking on an icon of his brother, the prince was shocked when the picture began to move and Thor's bellowing voice echoed through the laboratory.
"If you are asking me to kill my brother, Fury, I cannot help you." Thor was explaining, "He is to face Asgardian justice."
Loki could hear the disappointment dripping from Thor's voice.
"And if he tries to kill you?" Fury's voice asked from off screen, "What if he tries to kill Miss Foster? What if he threatens innocent lives?"
The Thor on the screen just looked at his hands and let out a frustrated sigh.
"My answer still stands."
Closing the video, Loki rubbed his forehead; there were other videos—one for Heimdall and one for Sif. There was a part of him that was intensely curious, but the logical part of him was winning out. Heimdall was never known to trust him, despite being an attendant to Odin. Sif, of course, trusted him even less, and he was sure that their videos were filled with nothing but venomous lies. He was certain both of them would have him hung for his crimes—unlike Thor, who despite everything…
Shaking his head, Loki managed to focus on the screen once more. He was foolish to think that the mortals knew nothing of him, and he was foolish for thinking he still had secrets to hide. They knew everything—from his psychological profile to his favorite flavor of tea. They knew the full extent of his magic ability, and they knew the truth behind his birth. There were no secrets, and for the first time in a while, Loki was feeling rather exposed.
Rubbing his forehead, the man flipped through the many pages of information once again. He could see his history written like a bad story across the pages, and with each passing word he could see the path of loss his life had taken. Each word painted a portrait of the relationship he and Thor once had, and each extra page showcased the figure he was now. But in the midst of his own history was something else—another ominous file.
Feeling the breath catch in his throat, green eyes widened when he saw the figure in the middle of the picture. His fingers were hovering over the mouse now—his mind unsure of what it wanted to do. Logic told him that what was behind the play button would only hurt him more. The emotional side of him, however, was desperate to hear what they had to say. With a fateful click, the video echoed through the room.
"You're going to be cooperative..." Nick Fury's voice said from out of the frame, "Because I don't think the general population will appreciate that you brought a known war criminal back to Earth."
The woman on the screen gave the camera a defiant glare.
"And if I'm not…" Eir started quietly, "…you will kill me."
Loki shivered as Nick's laughter echoed.
"No, you will wish we had."
Tony held onto the boxes in his hands tightly as he turned another corner of metal staircase. Racing down the many twists and turns of his tower, his footsteps ringing loudly in the column of steps, the man was given a rare chance to think alone. As of late he was having a hard time finding such solitude—with the Asgardians and Pepper taking up most of his time. It seemed that even with a tower almost a hundred stories high, he couldn't be alone.
And he needed it—he needed to be away from the world for a while. Each time he passed a window, he was reminded of the imminent threat of war. Outside he could see the bright flickering red and blue lights of police cars, and the long lines of cars trying to evacuate. SHIELD had done something right for once; but the swarm of people with scared faces didn't help his anxiety.
He couldn't even turn on the television anymore; despite efforts to keep the details of the attack quiet, the media had found out everything. Every news station had his face plastered on it, and everyone was wondering whether the Avengers would be able to hold off another attack. With each interview, he was reminded how much hope they had instilled in the population—and the notion that they couldn't save everyone this time was agonizing. He was suddenly reminded that he didn't just have an obligation to only protect Pepper…he had to protect everyone else, too.
Letting out a breath, Tony turned another corner of staircase. Each time he would close his eyes he would see the wormhole, and he could feel his heart race as he remembered the choking feeling of space. He couldn't help but remember the devastation he felt when he saw Pepper's call fail. He couldn't help but remember how heartbroken he was that he couldn't tell her everything he needed to and since then, he had made sure to tell her those things every day.
Turning a final corner, Tony pushed through a metal door and made his way down the hall towards his basement. Approaching his lab, the man could hear the raw screams from a video he hoped Loki would find. He wasn't proud of what SHIELD had done, but he couldn't change the past. They were an organization that campaigned themselves as heroes—painted the picture that they were an infallible organization concerned for the greater good. Perhaps they were; but he knew better than anyone that the road to Hell was truly paved with good intentions.
Walking quietly into the lab, Tony was shocked to see the devastated look now worn by the God of Mischief. Seemingly not noticing his presence, Tony watched as Loki kept his eyes fixated on the video playing on the large computer screen. In the glow of the screen, Tony could see the heavy tears falling silently down his cheeks—seemingly unable to look away.
"We already know everything." Nick's voice was saying, "I just want to hear you say it."
When the goddess didn't answer, a blood-curdling scream filled the room.
Feeling pity, Tony turned off the computer.
"Believe me, Antlers." He said quietly, "You don't want to see the rest."
Setting down his box, Tony watched as Loki sat transfixed by the blank screen. He was quiet, but he could tell from the tensed jaw and glossy eyes that the man was screaming inside. It was only after a few moments of silence, that the Asgardian even moved—placing his hands to his face and letting out a jagged breath.
"What were they…what did they…?"
Taking some scissors and breaking the tape on his box, Tony turned himself away from the distraught god. There was something hauntingly familiar about his expression, and he didn't need his own memories coming back to torment him.
"There is a school not too far from here." He explained calmly, "Bunch of gifted youngsters."
Tony ripped the tape off of his box with a loud screech.
"Some of them can break into a mind as if it were a safe." He continued quietly, "Funny thing about minds and safes though—they're hard to break into without causing damage."
From behind him, Tony could hear Loki let out a hiss of anger and in the corner of his eyes, he could see that the prince's hands were clenched hard—the white of his knuckles bright against his dark outfit. But while many of his features told a story of anger and revenge, his eyes were filled with a deep sadness and regret. Tony knew the feeling all too well.
"Pepper was tortured once." Tony admitted, not wanting to remember, "I know how you feel. I have never felt so we—"
"Stop trying to make us the same!" Loki yelled, his voice breaking, "You have no idea how I feel right now."
Taking a step back, Tony widened his eyes at the man. While Loki had done terrible things—unforgivable things—he couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"No, I don't." Tony agreed, pulling some tools out from his box, "But I have an IQ over 200, so I think I'll give it a shot."
Loki just stared at him venomously.
"You're wishing it was you instead." Tony said plainly, "You may be the God of Lies, but you don't hide 'devastated' very well…"
Loki put a hand to his face.
"You're blaming yourself and you should." Tony muttered, "The rest is downright brutal."
Loki had cast his eyes back to the empty screen once again. With each breath, Tony could tell that the man was trying to rationalize what had happened and decide what to do next. He could tell that one part of the God wanted to go on a murderous rampage, and the other wanted to cry. It was a familiar disjunction—he could remember feeling that when he couldn't save Pepper. He could remember wanting the world to burn. He didn't care who he hurt or how he went about it…he just wanted revenge.
"I want to see the life leave his eyes." Loki spat, his jaw clenched tightly, "I want to…to…"
He was positively shaking.
"Why wouldn't she just tell them what they wanted?" Loki asked, his voice dripping with frustrated and his hands shaking, "My life is worth nothing."
Tony couldn't help but smirk.
"I think we both know the answer to that, Loki."
In the silence that followed, Tony knew that his plan had worked. As dirty a play as it was, Loki saw what he needed to. As much as he didn't want to admit it, desperation was a powerful tool; it had made him who he was today. Had it not been for New York—had it not been for the events that followed—he may not have been the decent man he was. Had it not been for his time in a cave, he would not have become the hero the whole world saw him as. Killian had been wrong about a lot of things, but not about the gift of desperation.
"We could really use your help tomorrow." He said, his voice breaking through the awkward tension in the room, "I still have time to make you some—"
But when Tony turned around, the God of Mischief wasn't there. Smiling a little to himself, the man plugged in a number of values into a computer and took out the rest of his tools.
"Start is up, Jay."
Gold eyes concentrated on the chemicals dripping from their dropper and into the small glass vials atop her desk. After hearing the ominous news from Heimdall, and after swearing her powers to Lady Sif, she had taken to the supply closet of Bruce's infirmary. She may not have been a warrior like Sif, and she may not have been blessed with massive power like Thor, but she had a mind—and she hoped that it saved her tomorrow.
As much as she detested the image of Asgard's fair maidens, she knew she was one. She did not don war clothes and wade into battle like the others did. Instead, her specialty was at the front of a surgical suite or a healing room, and when she was attending to the queen, she was expected to look as elegant as any. Tomorrow she would be expected to put on the mask of a warrior, put on war paint instead of make-up, and lace her body with weapons instead of the finest silk. She would be expected to defend herself, and rush into the thick of battle with nothing more than a few weapons and her magic.
It was a scary thought.
But as her fingers danced across the vials, she hoped that she had tipped the odds in her favor. Using dozens of chemicals and expired medicines, she had created a deadly potpourri of poisons. Poisons to arrest the nervous system, poisons to induce cardiac arrest, and poisons to scald the skin and insides of those exposed. She certainly was no warrior—but she was Asgard's greatest scientist. That had to count for something.
Turning the top on her last creation, the Goddess stopped when she felt a shiver run down her spine. She could feel the unmistakable tingle of magic in the air, and its signature was one she knew all too well. Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, the goddess frowned.
"Heimdall assures me we are hilariously outnumbered." She muttered, "Last night alive? Surely, you have somewhere better to be."
Without missing a beat, a quiet voice answered.
"I'm there." He admitted, "This is where I want to be."
Blinking a few times, Eir turned around in her chair and looked at the man at her door. There was something decidedly off about Loki—his eyes red and his face pale. He looked as if he had been crying, and as the woman looked into his broken features she couldn't help but feel her heart drop.
"Loki, are you all—"
"Please, stop talking."
Finally moving away from his place at the doorway, Eir's eyes widened as the man came over and put his hands on her shoulders. She could feel his cool hands shaking, and as he looked at her, she could see the sorrowful shine in his green eyes. He didn't say anything—the silence between them deafening—but what he said with his eyes broke her heart.
Still quiet, Loki let out a shuddering breath before pulling her into him—his strong arms unwilling to let her go. Head against his chest, Eir could hear the frantic beating of his heart and the cool breath against her neck. Closing her eyes, the healer gave into his embrace.
"I am sorry." He whispered, his voice cracking, "For everything."
Golden eyes widened.
"I never wanted you hurt." He sighed, "What a failure I am."
Eir could feel Loki hold her tighter, his grip on her almost painful. Looking up to him, the woman felt warm tears wash down her face as she saw the deep regret and guilt painted over his features.
"I care not for what I did on Midgard—for what I did on Jotunheim." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, "But for the pain I have caused you I am truly sorry."
Eir could feel her bottom lip shake as he went on.
"I do not expect you to forgive me. I don't deserve it."
He let out a jagged sigh.
"But I cannot die tomorrow without you knowing how sorry I am."
Swallowing hard, Eir looked up to the man that held her in his arms. For a second, she could see a flicker of someone she knew much better. Almost like a ghost, the Loki that stood before her was one of long ago—whose vulnerable eyes held nothing but the truth. He was a talented liar, the best in the nine realms, but there was something laced in his words that was undeniably truthful. In the back of her mind, however, the doctor wondered if it was her wishful thinking.
Feeling his grip on her loosen, Eir shivered as his hands ran down her arms and his hands grabbed hers. It was just like so long ago—his cold hands cool against her warm—and it made the handmaiden want to cry. There had been so many nights she had wished he would say the words he was saying. There had been so many times she had wished it were her hands he was holding and not Sigyn's. She had wished he looked at her like he used to. And now-
She didn't know if it was real.
But in the silence that passed between them, she could see the devastation wash over his face. She could see the anguish pass over his features as she said nothing—as if her silence was denying him the very forgiveness he so desperately wanted. And as he let go of her hand, the healer knew he meant it.
Reaching out and grabbing his arm, Eir stopped the prince from walking away.
"I have every reason to hate you."
She could feel his pulse race under her fingertips.
"But when Thor told me what you did…" she whispered, "When I thought you dead…"
She couldn't help heavy tears from falling down her cheeks as she thought of it. He was looking at her now, hanging on her every word, and she grabbed his arm tighter.
"I lost myself."
Swallowing hard, the goddess took a deep breath and looked at the man she had saved.
"Despite everything you've done…" she whispered, her voice breaking, "I-I still…"
She could feel a terrible tightness in her chest as he looked at her. Her hand had fallen to his now, and she could feel her own hand tightening around his—her own digits shaky.
"I fear we may die tomorrow." She choked out, "So even if you must lie, please…"
A broken sigh escaped her lips.
"Tell me you feel the same."
But instead of answering, Loki pulled her into him—his lips crashing into hers hard. Closing her eyes, the healer allowed herself to get lost in him, her body molding into his.
There was something desperate about it, the way his hands fell to her waist and pulled her closer—his movements rough with a need she didn't know he had. Feeling the chill dance across her fingers, the handmaiden gripped his neck tightly with a want she knew she had been hiding. And as the chill of his breath ran down her neck…
He was cool and smelt like the forest—and when he kissed her, she could feel his lips smiling against hers. He had kissed her before, but this time was different. This time, she could feel everything he couldn't say. This time, he didn't give his words the chance to betray him. For once, he let his actions talk.
Pulling away only to breathe, Eir could feel the heat rising in her face as Loki gave her one of his famous grins. His face was flustered and his hair was unkempt—his lips still kiss-swollen and his eyes bright. He looked grateful—relieved—and as they stood in silence for a moment, the handmaiden knew he was telling the truth when he finally spoke.
"I need not lie."
Thank you for reading! Reviews are always much appreciated! ありがとうございます!
Next chapter: The War begins...
PS: Yes! Chapter 20 was a reference to Of Monsters and Men ;) I love them something fierce.
