A/N: Hey guys look I'm actually alive! Hurray. Er, enjoy the chapter- I hope it clears up some questions, since I have waited so long to answer them.

"Stark, do you mind telling me what the everloving fuck you thought you were doing?"

A question Tony had been getting quite a lot lately. He hated it when people asked that- much less passive aggressive and much more time effective to just say they thought he was an idiot. He sighed with little tact and turned a bored expression on Fury, more amused than concerned by the emotion he was met with. There was probably a reason the Commander was named as he was. "Capturing Loki, who, I might add, you sent me after."

"In the middle of a god-damned cafe?"

"What did you expect me to do, lure him outside for a nice stroll? Loki's not a moron, he would have caught on. He could've killed half the people in that place before I even put on the suit."

"So you grabbed him by the throat and choked him? In public?" Fury snarled- really, snarled. He was literally baring his teeth at Tony, though he doubted the man realized he was doing it. It was both hilarious and strangely terrifying, though unfortunately for Fury the former was the more prevalent response.

Natasha gave him a warning look from across the table, but Tony had ignored more severe glares from Pepper on a daily basis for years. "Yeah, I did. What did you expect me to do, invite him to pistols at dawn?"

"I expected you to handle the situation with caution. A five year old would have noticed something was up. I ought to reassign you to secretary work, Stark, because I sure as hell don't want you on the field after that!"

Like Tony was afraid of Fury's orders- he wasn't like Natasha, he could act outside of SHIELD's direction when he wished, and they both knew it. So he only raised one eyebrow, though it was perfectly possible the threat would be played out before he even left this room, and watched with some amusement as a vein throbbed in Fury's temple. Of course Nat couldn't just let this go, it pained her to watch his idiocy in action sometimes, and, perhaps luckily, the woman cleared her throat to draw their attention before things could escalate to the dealing out of actual repercussions.

"I don't think Stark was thinking things through as clearly as he could have, Sir. Loki is a sore spot for all of us." Tony nodded, only somewhat sarcastically, and waited as Natasha studied him, as seemingly blank-faced as ever. "He was probably afraid."

Tony went rigid at the words, his cocky smile degraded to a less-than-pleased frown, and his eyes turned to the blank wall as everyone else's went straight to him. Only four sets (one incomplete), but three of them belonging to people he'd rather not be getting into the topic of fear with, not if he could help it. Leave it to Natasha to ruin his good mood.

"You were scared, Stark? Of a scrawny god with no powers?" Fury sounded somewhere between pissed and astonished, rolling his eye when Tony turned to him with a blank look. "You're Iron Man! A super hero does not get scared of waiters!"

"To be fair, we're talking about Loki. He seems like he's helpless now, but for all we know it's all an act." Bruce cut in, giving up his pretending-not-to-be-there act in favor of defending Tony. "Loki tricked us before, I wouldn't be surprised if he's up to it again."

"You should've just blasted him in the head, Stark. Saved me the trouble," Clint muttered, the first noise he had made, to Tony's knowledge, since he'd told the archer a week ago that he'd seen Loki at the construction sight. Ever since intelligence had pulled up that picture of him all he'd been doing was twirling an arrow in his hands wherever he went and... staring. It was kind of creepy, actually.

"I already told you, Barton, nobody kills Loki until I find out what he's doing here and if he's got another army coming with him. I've got no word from Thor, and I don't want to make a move without Asgard's approval," Fury spoke slowly, as he always did with them, like one might to a child. A child who you really wanted to kick through a wall.

Clint glared, but said nothing, only went back to twirling and watching his arrow as if he had never seen anything quite like it before. That, unfortunately, meant Fury went straight back to Tony, who was finding it harder to meet his gaze. "Well, Stark?"

"I don't see why it matters- we say a criminal took his identity, apologize, pay a few hospital bills and nobody would know. Shapeshifters would not be the weirdest thing to happen to this city."

"It matters, Stark, because you've just made Loki a national fucking celebrity. People are watching this bullshit," At last Fury now threw down the newspaper he'd been clutching for the past half hour, which somehow slid with expert precision to a halt right in front of Tony, who turned it around and picked it up without glancing at a word, "and getting all choked up about the guy who killed their kids, just because he was attacked by a national fucking hero in a public coffee shop! You think you're scared? You're Iron Man. You're the only reason half these people felt safe to walk outside after what happened to Manhattan, and now you're the reason they're afraid of the people who are supposed to protect them. It doesn't matter how I cover it up, do you know how badly people want to hate you, Stark? I've been trying to keep you a hero for years and you run out and pull this kind of thing because you're scared?"

Ignoring, for the moment, that he hadn't even been the one to say anything about fear, Tony instead devoted his attention to the paper. The headline was pretty blunt- Iron Man Assaults Civilian- but he was more interested in the image and the article. Loki was a god. Loki was ridiculously powerful, Loki was capable of surviving a very violent bashing around by the Hulk at his angriest, and yet Loki was lying in a hospital bed with a mask to keep him breathing and bandages ringing his throat. Tony thought he looked awful, but his sympathy was pretty much nonexistent. He was less worried that Loki was doing a poor job of recovering than he was that the newspapers were making such a big deal of it- whoever had written this thing obviously thought he was some kind of martyr.

"Anyone else think it's weird he's going by the name Kaiser? Creepy much," Tony concluded, looking up again to meet Fury's eye. "I don't see how this is a bad thing. I'd rather have people pissed at me than have him wandering the streets. I'll admit, he looks kind of harmless here, but that is Loki, and he's gonna have something up his sleeve."

"This, Stark, is a very bad thing. Their lives are in your hands, and now they don't even trust you. What do you think-"

God dammit. "All right, Fury, I was scared. Okay? You never had to fight him. You don't know how easy it would have been for him to just reach out and- snap my neck, or blow that whole place to hell, or make me do it for him!"

Ah, dammit, there it was. Fury's look turned to narrowed but cautious eyes, and Bruce's to some probably misguided sympathy in the form of a rare half-grimace. Clint stopped twirling his arrow abruptly and watched him with a completely blank expression, the only one to hold Tony's eye even for a moment, though he was annoyed to realize they were all trying to manage it. He looked away and muttered a curse under his breath, waiting for someone to speak. Eventually, he saw Clint nod out of the corner of his eye and go back to his arrow twirling, and like that something snapped, the tension spilling away silently.

"What did he do to you, Stark?" Natasha of all people had the sense to ask, leaning forward with slightly narrowed eyes, watching him like something between a cat and a psychiatrist.

Tony felt like he was being put up on display, but he knew his friends too well, by now, to expect they would let this drop. So he let out a frustrated sigh and turned his head away until the question was repeated once more, then glanced back just long enough to see them all looking towards him. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with them all? "He tried to work the mind puppet mojo on me when he showed up at my tower. This thing stopped him, so he threw me out the window. No big deal."

"I don't know, I'm thinking it was a big deal, or you wouldn't have pulled something so god-damn stupid." Fury retorted, though he seemed, now, as curious as he was pissed off.

Dammit, Tony hated the way they were looking at him. Especially Clint- after all, did he really have a reason to complain? He hadn't actually been taken over, not like the archer. "He could've done it, Fury. It would've been easy, all he had to do was move the damn staff somewhere else, and what could I have done about it? I'm done making weapons, I don't want somebody turning me into one."

And Loki had been so, so close to doing just that, to grabbing his mind and just using him. He'd heard from Barton just what that felt like, how complete Loki's control was once he got it. You were forced to see exactly what you were doing, but you couldn't even bring yourself to hate it, you just... did it, and so long as it made Loki happy you were glad to.

And fuck, if that idea didn't terrify Tony- he was not the best at making decisions, and he didn't always trust his own mind, but his head was his, the only thing he possessed that nobody else had ever pretended a claim to. And then Loki had come along swinging that staff, thinking to make him nothing more than a puppet he could send off on a killing spree. God, to think he might have been made to fight, maybe kill his friends... he didn't doubt that they could have stopped him, but a knock on the head in that situation wouldn't be easy. More likely than not Hulk would've just grabbed him and snapped his spine like a twig if he tried to shoot at him. Tony grimaced at the image and tightened his jaw, refusing to allow Fury any more chance for mocking him over this.

"So what, you were trying to kill him?" This from Clint, again startling everyone with his sudden ability to speak. Tony turned to the archer, unsurprised to find the gaze that met his piercing, not unfriendly but intense enough to leave him uncomfortable. "Or just keep him back? Don't you get it? We send him off to Daddy for a spanking and he comes back in less than a month. I don't care if he's supposed to be a god, I could kill him. Right now, anyone could."

"Did Loki suck up all your common sense when he got into your head, or are you just naturally like that?" Fury snapped, in such a way that Tony had to narrow his eyes further still, even if Clint only perpetuated that blank look. "Nobody is killing him, you got it?"

There was a long silence, the kind that felt like something stretched too thin too fast, and Clint shook his head. The arrow hadn't stopped its turning. "No, I don't."

Well, at least the attention was off him, but Tony still didn't like to wonder what the look on Fury's face meant, or how much that slight crease in Tasha's forehead said about Clint's mental state. "Thought so. Barton, you're on lockdown until further notice, I don't want you leaving base for so much as a second, are we clear?"

"Sure," Clint said with nothing more than a shrug. He waited for more, saw Fury was done, and stood up to leave, stopping beside Tony to glance down at the paper with a wicked sort of smile. "I've got that picture on my fridge."

"You are a man of interesting tastes, Barton, and my interior decorator would probably not agree with any of them. Surprised you didn't blow it up and tape it to your wall."

"The guy at Kinkos wouldn't do it." Clint sounded so wistfully regretful that Tony had to wonder if he weren't actually serious, but the archer was nodding a farewell in that way that said his talking spell was done, and a few seconds later he was gone.

"Well. That was... disturbing," Bruce noted casually, watching him leave.

Natasha did not look happy with the observation, but Tony had to agree, despite the threat of death-by-Russian. Loki's re-appearance was weighing on all of them, but none nearly so hard as Clint. "I think we're done here?"

"Wait, the hell are we going to do about Loki? All we decided is that Clint's probably gone vigilante."

"We've decided, Stark, that's it's your problem," Fury retorted, "and I expect a press release by the evening news. Just smile and make 'em like you, or spend a few weeks locked up for assault while your secretary complains to the big house. Doesn't make a difference to me."

VVV

A metal hand clamped around the throat was nothing to laugh at- the doctors said Kaiser (or Loki, as he insisted they call him, however they tried to insist he couldn't possibly be a Norse god) had avoided a cracked neck through a practical miracle. Surviving that, half of them were still in shock that his windpipe hadn't been completely crushed, or that he could breathe even with the respirator in the state he was in.

Peter had to agree with them, thinking back to how badly Loki had looked by the time he got back from fighting Iron Man. (And boy, the weirdness of that one wouldn't wear off anytime soon.) The bruises on his neck were nearly black now, but at least some of the color had returned to his skin, and anything was better than seeing all that blood running from his mouth. He'd looked pretty much dead, and they'd all thought he was, until the emergency response had somehow discovered a pulse. Waiting for them, though, was a lot of panic, a lot of failed reassurances to frantic coworkers and customers, and a lot of wondering why. From how he'd been speaking, Iron Man had mistaken Loki for some kind of murderer, but he hadn't said who he was supposed to be or why he might be there, just gone in for the almost-kill.

And Loki, when he had finally awakened, was as in the dark as any of them- more, in fact, since he had no idea who Iron man really was. "I have no idea why he might have gone after me. He knew my name, though, so I might be whoever he says I am. Really, I can't remember. I am very sorry."

Same answer, same question. Day after day. Peter was surprised Aunt May hadn't smacked any of these reporters over the head yet, but none of them stayed too long before the hospital staff sent them off, anyway, and Loki seemed too happy about having a name to bother even that he had almost died. Again. Though he did seem to appreciate the pampering- and the nurses. There were probably a million rules against it, but the amount of times Peter had walked in to find Loki lip-locked with some poor girl was an almost painful number. The fact that Loki didn't even know what a relationship was made it pretty hard not to feel sorry for them, but today Peter's only concern was for avoiding Loki's room, not whoever he may be flirting with inside it.

And boy, did that feel weird- standing around in a hospital barring Tony Stark entrance to a patient's room. Normally he would have been relieved to see the guy, but now all he could think was that he was a supposed-to-be-normal boy with no backup except for his nervous-seeming girlfriend attempting to ward off a super hero. A superhero he would normally have done anything to meet, rather than anything to be rid of. Peter wished they could call the cops or staff on this, but Loki had no idea he had a visitor and so couldn't refuse him, and the police had been forced to give up caring once Loki refused to file any sort of charges. Even against Stark there was a case enough to have him dealing with hell for a few weeks at least, but Loki didn't seem to want any kind of vengeance. And, Peter had to admit, he really did not want to be part of something going against Stark, either. Idolization was quick to dwindle, not so quick to vanish.

Especially when said idol was managing to look intimidating, nonchalant, and repentant all at once, even while Gwen was giving him her best 'fuck you' look. "Look, kid, no suit. No press either, so I'm not even getting a publicity boost out of this. So play nice and share your friend, k?"

"My friend is only here because of you. No." Peter couldn't tell if the thing boiling in his chest was anger or some mingled sort of grief, but he hated it, whatever it was. "He's had enough without you, you know. So go, get out, just leave him alone."

"Yeah, I figured all that out, actually. Look, if your pal isn't who I think he is, I want to apologize. If he is the same guy, you'll regret not letting me in that room," Stark retorted, but did not push past Peter or even make the attempt. He seemed willing to go with whatever he was told was alright, and that only made it more annoying, somehow. "Plus there's at least a fifty percent chance I owe him a drink, and it's just gonna get awkward if I wait too long to offer."

"And how are you supposed to tell that? He doesn't remember who he is." But he'd remembered his name, when Stark had said it- didn't that mean he was the same person this man suspected him of being? If that was the case he was a criminal, and one bad enough to have Iron Man losing his cool in a pretty violent way. Peter almost thought he didn't care. If Loki didn't remember committing a crime there was hardly any point in punishing him for it. "He doesn't remember anything."

"Fun fact, amnesia is one of the easiest things in the world to pretend to have. A knock on the head's a nice excuse for a second chance."

"Which would mean he wants one."

"Point taken." For a while Stark did nothing but stare, his expression not quite blank but too unfamiliar for Peter to figure out just yet, before ending the stillness with an anticlimactic shrug. "I won't hurt him. If he's not I think he is I won't want to, and if he is I won't be able to. Good enough for you, yet?"

Peter honestly wished it could be- this guy was an idol, a hero, a good person. But so was Doctor Connors. "First tell me who you think he is."

"Can't do that. If I'm right he's someone we want to hush up, not broadcast. Sorry, kid," Stark said, looking not the least bit apologetic. "I can tell you he killed at least eighty people, and one of them a friend of mine. Now are we done here? I don't think I'm a qualified babysitter, I'd rather get in there."

"Um- yeah, okay. Fine. We're not leaving you alone though, we're going too." Whatever Stark had to talk about sounded pretty secretive, and Peter wasn't going to even give him the chance to keep them out of that room.

"Whatever you want, kid."

Well, not much else he could do after that, was there? Hospital staff was at the end of the hallway and Peter wasn't actually technically allowed to keep anybody out of the room, so he shuffled off to the side and let Stark through. "I really don't like this. Should I go get May?"

Gwen, wearing that familiar worried little frown. "No, it'll be okay, he doesn't have the suit, i can handle him like this if I need to."

"Peter, you're practically drooling over him."

"Hey, I can prioritize! If he goes after Loki again, I go after him again. I can do that, you know. If he does get violent or anything run and call someone, okay?" War plans against Tony Stark. Who actually did that? Supervillains. And now him, apparently.

He let out a groan of annoyance and confusion, which at least got Gwen to smile, and sidled his own way into the room, only about half a minute behind Stark. The man was standing at the end of the bed, actually quiet, and Loki had given up the book he was currently holding to stare at him, a little paler than normal but not really afraid.

He was, in fact, feeling more nervous for everyone else's sake than his own- Stark was looking rather worn, as though this whole process was bearing down on him one way or another with the social consequences, or perhaps whatever had compelled him to attack in the first place was unnerving him now. And he was certainly upsetting Peter, to no great surprise. How odd that he would be here, now.

"Hey," Stark said at last, shrugging in the silence. "Sorry about choking you. Usually not so rough outside the bedroom."

That... was not something he had tried. And, considering the state of his throat at the moment, not something he wished to try. "You knew my name, I can deal with a little hospital time. We're old friends, this place and I."

"Yeah, so I've heard. That knock on the head wiped away everything?"

"Yes." Not even a hint of his identity, on his body or in his head, until Stark had attacked him. He was hardly going to turn him away in anger for a little beating, now was he? "Even my name. But you knew it. How?"

"What makes you so sure it's your name?" Stark was frowning, looking at his hair and his eyes lie he couldn't quite believe them. "Are you wearin' contacts?"

"No. Why?"

"Nothin'."

"No it's not. And I am sure because I am. It sounds right to me. Do you think it's not mine?" Loki was almost afraid of that- he was sure, but Stark was looking concerned. Like he was not so certain himself.

Peter seemed to find solace in this, but Loki felt a moment of panic at Stark's sudden indecision. Loki. A brief word, but one of the few things that had felt right to him, any way or another, in all the time he could remember, and he did not want to lose it. "Nope, not sure. But hey, might be a more common name than I thought, no need to get all identity- crisis on me," the man assured with something of a grimace, which was at least a change. Stark was quite expressive, but in very minute ways thus far, most of which were obscured by those glasses behind which his eyes hid. "Y'know, I might be able to figure out who you are. Or were, depending on your philosophical preference. Little trial and error might be involved, fair warning."

"How do you intend to do that?" Of course Peter and Gwen seemed piqued by suspicion at those words, but Loki was plenty curious enough to sit up attentively, showing Star his consideration for the offer.

"First? Question. Are you evil?"

"That would depend on your philosophical preference, but I've seen little reason to say I am, no."

Stark did smirk at that, though the visible total of his emotion concluded itself in no more than a shrug. "Touche. First test passed, take ten points. Second round up. I want you to come by my mansion, let me run some tests. Best case scenario would be you staying there for a week or two, but I think the over there'd pop a blood vessel if I suggested it."

"You know, that technically was suggesting it," Peter grumbled, in his pleasant half-heartful way. "Uh, no veins bursting, right? That sounds kind of painful."

"Hm, no, you're safe for now." Gwen smiled, and if Loki had paused a moment he might have been able to think of what seemed so off about the look, but Stark had distracted him from such things very thoroughly, and his attention wavered no more than those few seconds.

"No. May would murder me for one thing, and I owe her and Peter plenty more than I could repay from your home." A week, after all, could easily end up a month or more if the right things went wrong. And, though Loki would not mention it, he was not comfortable with the idea of being entirely alone around Stark. "I am sorry, but I thank you for the offer."

"Ouch, and here I thought our relationship had moved so far. I need to get a look at you though- once a week. My place or yours?"

"I don't have a place," Loki pointed out, realizing as he said it that this was rather truer than he would have liked it to be. "I could go wherever you are. Peter, is that-?"

"I'm not your babysitter. But uh, Aunt May might not be too happy. Normally people avoid the houses of guys who tried to kill them."

"I think," Gwen cut in, almost severely, "that you can come by the coffee shop without your suit or anything else and talk to him for awhile and find out what you need from there. Okay?"

"Nothing else? You sure? I mean, didn't see one of those no shirt, no shoes, no service signs, but you can never be too careful."

"Hm, right, we don't really want to see that. Clothes are okay."

Loki didn't know whether to smile at this exchange or shake his head in disbelief, but opted for neither, seeing as had he been in any better health he knew he would have been joining in. Meeting Stark at the cafe? It was hardly a terrifying concept, especially if it would unlock any tell-tale hints of his past. Without that robotic suit he was hardly afraid, and his wariness would be little trouble in a crowded building. Peter didn't look happy about even that, but Loki had to step out of this shadow somehow, and there was no use turning away any chance when it came. "I would be very grateful for that, thank you. Sorry for the inconvenience, I hope you don't live too far off."

"I'm the superhero equivalent of a hermit, 'cept I'm secluded on a cliff instead of some gross mountaintop. I'm used to it, I'll manage." Stark assured, pulling out his phone for a few brief moments of tapping before returning the machine to his pocket. "Saturdays, twelve, nice and easy to remember. I think I'll see you then, I should get going before the kid figures out a way for looks to actually kill."

Stark jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Peter, who grimaced almost guiltily but hid it with a shrug. Neither he nor Gwen seemed ready to bid the man farewell politely, so it was Loki to speak the goodbyes as affably as could be managed, even though Stark didn't return the favor beyond a studious look and a sort of absent-minded nod. Loki was less than bothered, and watched the man go with more relief than he would have expected. He knew very little of life in general, but he was beginning to believe his was a very unusual one.

A/N: -Tosses anticlimactic confetti into the air- Tada. Well okay not much really happened in this chapter, but I had fun writing it, and I hope you all liked it as well. Angry Clint is a very fun Clint to write about.