There was another emergency situation not long after Steve's birthday.

Erika and Jormungand watched its coverage on the live news feeds, and Erika felt sick as she watched them take a beating.

"Take the cuffs off," said Jormungand after Captain America got thrown into a wall three times in a row and nearly disemboweled. "Erika, take them off!"

"I can't!"

"I can help!" he practically screeched. "Please . . . I can help."

Erika just hugged him.

The Avengers won.

Everyone was safe.

Jormungand was furious.

"Why do you do this?" he demanded to know as soon as he and Steve were alone. "Day after day, you put your life in danger for others—most of them don't even like you!"

Steve sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Can we not do this right now?"

Jormungand shook his head. "I can't do this."

Steve's eyes shot open and he sat up. "Excuse me?"

"Steven, please, I can't do this anymore," said Jormungand, sitting down beside Steve. "Why are you even staying here? Why can't we leave?"

Steve frowned. "I don't understand, what—"

"You want me to say it? Fine. Being an Avenger is ridiculous. You're risking your life for complete strangers!" He grabbed Steve's hand. "We can leave—I'll steal the key back to my cuffs, and we can disappear. We can go anywhere, just please don't make me sit here and worry like this!"

Steve pulled his hands away tiredly. "You know I can't do that," he said. "This city needs me—it needs the Avengers. I can't just leave." He shook his head. "Where is this even coming from? You were fine earlier."

"Earlier I didn't watch on the news as my lover was very nearly disemboweled," Jormungand growled.

Steve sighed again.

"If you truly loved me, you would leave with me."

Okay, that was it.

"Jesus, since when did you become so selfish?" Steve growled back. "Not everything's about you! And how dare you say that to me!" He stood up, truly angry with his lover for the first time since he could remember. "Whether or not I leave has nothing to do with how I feel about you, and it's selfish for you to ask me to give up on thousands of people just because of something you want."

"I'm not the selfish one!" Jormungand spat, standing so he towered over Steve, who didn't back down. "You don't even know those people, and I'm just supposed to sit here and wring my hands while you save some stranger's whining brat from a burning building!"

"So what am I supposed to do? Let them die? Trade my life for theirs?"

"Yes!"

Steve took a step back, horrified. "You'd . . . you'd let all those people—"

"If it meant keeping you safe, I'd let this whole planet burn," said Jormungand, a determined fire in his eyes.

He meant it.

Steve took another step back, shaking his head. He'd known how Jormungand felt about him but the revelation of just what Jormungand would do for him . . . . .

Steve felt sick.

"I need to get some air," Steve muttered, turning around and hurrying out the door.

He'd forgotten. How had he forgotten?

Jormungand wasn't human, no matter how good his disguise was. Underneath that tall, pale frame writhed a blood-soaked nightmare, and he wouldn't have any problem with watching the world burn.

He came back later and found Jormungand curled up on his bed, hugging his pillow. He could almost see the serpent just below the surface, and he swallowed down bile. When Jormungand looked at him, he could swear the other's eyes were glowing faintly.

Steve took a deep breath. This was going to be painful, but it needed to be done.

Jormungand was up in an instant. "I didn't mean it, any of it. You're right—I'm selfish. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he choked out, reaching for Steve and latching onto the super soldier.

Steve pried him off and shook his head. "No, you're not," he said firmly. "If it were me or them, you'd pick me, and I don't think I could live with myself if you ever had to make that choice."

Jormungand shook his head quickly. "Please, please, I'm sorry, I won't ever ask you to leave again, just don't—you can't—" he choked on a sob, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He knew. He knew what Steve was going to do, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out. "Vinsamlegast, Steven, ég veit að við getum gert þetta verk. Vinsamlegast."

Steve didn't need to understand him to know he was begging. "Please, don't," he said gently. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

Jormungand was trying so hard not to cry. "You promised," he said, his voice above a whisper. "You promised we'd make it work."

Steve sighed. "We can't. I'm sorry."

Jormungand was shaking, tears starting to leak down his face. "Ég elska þig," he sobbed. "Vinsamlegast."

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat—he didn't feel right saying it back.

Not when he was ripping the other man's heart out.

Jormungand swallowed thickly, still trying to control his crying. He nodded once, then darted around Steve towards the door, practically running from Steve's room.

Jormungand sat up on the very top of the Tower, staring down at the streets so, so far below him.

It would be easy to lose his balance. To just fall.

Everyone was right.

Fenrir, Rannhal, Odin—everyone.

Worthless.

Stupid.

Useless.

Freak.

Nobody wanted him.

It would make everyone happier if he just disappeared.

Jormungand placed a hand on his stomach and swallowed.

No.

There was someone who needed him, and he wouldn't give up on them.

He just hoped he didn't let them down.

He wouldn't kill himself—he couldn't.

He could, however, leave this life behind.

Jormungand looked down at what was clutched in his left hand—the keys to his cuffs.

He took a deep breath.

Fyrirgefðu—Ekki leita eftir mér.

—Jörmungandr

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"

Steve almost dropped his coffee in shock as Erika came storming into the kitchen, more pissed off than he ever remembered seeing her. "Good morning to you, too," he said, still reeling from the shock of her sudden appearance.

"Don't you 'good morning' me, Mother Fucker—tell me what you did to my brother that upset him so much he decided to leave!" She screamed.

Steve frowned. "What?"

Erika growled and slapped a slip of paper down on the tabled. "'I'm sorry—don't look for me.' What did you do?!" she yelled.

Steve glanced down at the slip of paper.

That was Jormungand's handwriting.

"He's gone?" Steve asked quietly.

Erika snorted. "No shit, Sherlock—why do you think I'm grilling you? I've got every available resource out there looking for him right now, and if they can't find him, J.A.R.V.I.S can. I'll ask you again, Captain—what the fuck did you do to my brother?"

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat.

He explained what had happened between him and Jormungand the previous night.

Erika slapped him.

She didn't talk to him for a month, and after that she only spoke to him when necessary.

Nobody asked where Jormungand had gone.

Tony used all the resources at his disposal to look for him, but monsh went by and they couldn't find anything.

Jormungand was gone.

A/N: One more, than this fic is done. Woot!