Avengers Fic: Ask Me No Questions 4/6

[alex51324]

Part 4



Pain returned like an old friend. A friend that Loki didn’t like very much, but who stubbornly refused to take a hint and kept on intruding into his peace with jugs of mead and glad cries.

Like, in fact, Thor.

Somewhere in his drug-fueled haze, the pain had settled down to a muted throbbing in his shoulder, and a dull ache behind his eyes if he tried to read or otherwise concentrate on anything for too long. Not so bad, really. The only part he really minded was when-half asleep or otherwise distracted-he reached out to heal the injuries, and met the yawning emptiness where his magic was supposed to be. Its loss had been agony, the first few days after Odin had stripped it from him, but it hadn’t taken long to break himself of the habit of probing at the hole where it had once been, like a tongue seeking a lost tooth.

Dr. Banner, in his infinite wisdom, elected to wean Loki off the medication over several days. Loki might have thought it a good idea-in fact, it was entirely possible that Banner had asked, and he had agreed-but the middle days of the process were the worst, where he was enough himself to be aware of pain, but not sufficiently sensible to stop the reflexive reaching for magic to heal it.

It was better when he was off it entirely, returned to the bright, clear world with all its sharp edges. That was fine; he had sharp edges of his own.

Thor brought him his first meal that wasn’t brightly-colored invalid pap-smoked boar with fried potatoes and eggs. It seemed a strange combination, but Thor assured him the mortals ate it regularly. He was sufficiently restored to himself to shake off Thor’s efforts at spoon-feeding him, though he did have to accept help cutting his meat.

In preparation for her own dismissal, Annie the nurse taught Loki how to shower without getting his cast wet, and to dress himself one-handed afterwards. Loki was initially pleased with the latter-now that he was neither too ill nor too drugged to recognize that the hospital gown was not a dignified garment-but his pleasure was drastically diminished when it became clear that his normal clothes-that is to say, his armor-could not be made to fit over the cast. And the items that would fit-his trousers, boots, and left vambrace, for example-were impossible to put on one-handed.

Thor and Banner provided him with some flimsy mortal garments. Thor, unsurprisingly, was of the option that shapeless trousers that remained on the body thanks only to an elasticated waist were among the cleverest inventions in the history of the nine realms.

Banner, slightly more adept at reading Loki’s reactions, said, “Yeah, if you’d rather ask Thor for help every time you want to go to the toilet, be my guest. And it could be worse-Tony wanted us to pretend they only came in pink.”

Weighing the options available to him, Loki accepted the garments. Thus appareled, he returned to the guest bedroom in Thor’s quarters. He was somewhat relieved to see that his belongings-such as they were-had not been disturbed. The Starkpad was even where he had left it, but operating it one-handed proved exceptionally difficult, and reading still gave him a headache. Fortunately, now that they were on speaking terms, Jarvis demonstrated his ability to play movies on the room’s television, so Loki continued to occupy himself much as he had in the infirmary-sleeping, attempting to find a comfortable position in which to sleep, watching movies, and tolerating Thor’s visits.

It wasn’t long before Thor began urging Loki to join his friends for their meals and other pitiful recreations, but now Loki refused, taking advantage of Thor’s reluctance to manhandle him in his weakened state. Sometimes, Thor thought to ask Loki why he wouldn’t go, but Loki was always able to cite pain or fatigue as a reason. If he didn’t happen to be in pain at the time, he could always provoke some by reaching for magic to heal his shoulder.

Thor didn’t give up, though. Even after numerous refusals, he came to Loki’s room and boomed, “Our friends are watching a movie. The saga is called Star Wars, and Tony has suggested that you might particularly enjoy it, as it has a villain who wears a cape and does magic. Will you join us?”

“No,” Loki answered, not taking his eyes off the television screen.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired.”

“You are watching a movie here,” Thor pointed out. “Surely it is no more tiring to watch one in company.” He paused, then apparently remembered that he had to ask a question. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Brother,” Thor said, with a sorrowful sigh.

Loki turned to give him a sharp look, jarring his shoulder in the process.

“Never mind.” Thor turned to go, then turned back. “You will be welcome, whenever you are ready to join us.”

#

“-so you can see it’s healing,” Bruce said, turning off the light behind the x-ray films. “But I’d say you’ll be in the cast at least another four weeks.” They were in the infirmary, for Loki’s weekly checkup. “Do you have any questions?”

“No.” Loki turned away from him.

“Wait a minute,” Bruce said. Loki turned back, a mulish expression on his face. “We’re not quite done. Your shoulder’s okay, but I have some concerns about the rest of you.” Bruce didn’t quite see it, but Thor insisted that Loki had changed since his injury-that he was even more standoffish than before, more prone to what Thor described as “melancholy.” “Your brother’s worried about you.”

Loki let his breath out sharply and looked pointedly over his shoulder.

“Why does that bother you?”

“He is not my brother.”

Bruce searched for something to say. It had been a long time since his med school psych rotation, and he was almost certain his coursework hadn’t covered demigods with attachment issues. “Uh, yeah. He told us you were adopted. And that you didn’t know about it until…recently. Is that right?”

“No,” Loki said.

“Where am I wrong?”

“I wasn’t adopted; I was stolen.”

“That’s not how Thor sees it,” Bruce pointed out. “He, uh, he cares about you a lot. Do you…why do you suppose that is?”

“Because he is a fool,” Loki answered.

“Caring about you makes him a fool? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No.”

“Then….” Shaking his head, Bruce decided that trying to sort out the verbal trickery that allowed Loki to answer “no” to that question was not a good use of anyone’s time. “Well, he does,” he said, and returned to the point he’d been trying to make. “He thinks you might be depressed. What do you think about that?”

“I repeat-he is a fool.”

He’d walked right into that one, Bruce supposed. “How have you been sleeping lately?”

“Usually while lying down.”

“Okay, I’m, uh, nearly certain that you understood that question just fine, and you’re just being a dick, but let’s try again. Do you feel that you’ve been sleeping well lately?”

Loki glared at him for a long moment, then uttered a sulky, “No.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Why not?”

“My shoulder hurts. It’s difficult to get comfortable.”

Bruce made a mental note-pain management issue and/or drug seeking behavior? “Is that the only reason?”

“No.” Then, before Bruce could stop him, Loki left the room, the soles of the slip-on shoes they’d given him slapping rapidly along the tile floor.

“That went well,” Bruce observed to the empty room.

#

“I can’t tell you what we talked about,” Bruce explained, before Thor could even ask him to. “Doctor-patient confidentiality. It’s a thing. But yeah, I think you’re right to be concerned about him.”

“Can you not help him?” Thor asked. “Your Midgardian medicine has ways of healing those who are unwell in their minds.” He’d learned of it during his banishment, when his first mortal friends had thought him mad himself. He hadn’t consciously planned on bringing Loki here to seek such treatment for him-he hadn’t entirely realized that Bruce was, in fact, a healer. But now that the opportunity was before him….

“I can’t give him any psychiatric medication,” Bruce explained. “We barely know how that stuff works on humans, let alone another species. And the other kind of treatment, talk therapy, is…outside my area of expertise, for one thing. For another, it’ll only work if he wants it to. He wouldn’t let me get through the entire depression screening, and that’s like six questions. I can’t force him to talk about his problems against his will.”

“The geas,” Thor began, but Bruce was shaking his head.

“It’s an ethical issue, not a practical one.” Apparently misreading Thor’s expression as one of incomprehension, Bruce went on, “Ethics, you know. It’s like honor, only…quieter. And given that at least some of his issues come from being lied to and manipulated by your dad, forcing him to confide in me would probably make things worse.”

“Then we can do nothing?”

“Keep trying to talk to him,” Bruce answered. “Make sure he eats, keep trying to get him to come out of his room and interact. See if you can get him to open up.” He hesitated. “I don’t think it’s giving away any secrets to suggest that you start with the adoption. I mean, finding out that he was adopted and lied to about it, then…losing touch with everyone he knows before he’s had a chance to get any answers about it, that would upset anyone.”

“I have taken great care to assure him that he is my brother still,” Thor said.

“Have you asked him how he feels about it?”

Thor thought over the conversations that he’d had with Loki since his return from banishment. “It shames me to admit that I have not,” he finally said.

“Well, I’d give it a shot, if I were you. What he has to say might not be very pleasant to hear. Or, uh, complimentary to your parents. But it might do him some good. You know, to get it out there. Through some medium other than horrifying violence.”

“I can but try,” Thor agreed. And since he was never one to put off an unpleasant task, he sought out his brother immediately.

While Loki had many clever hiding places in Asgard, here, tracking him to his lair was the work of a moment. Loki was on the bed in his sleeping-chamber, propped up on several bolsters with one of Tony’s computing tablets on his knees. “Brother,” Thor said. “I feel we should talk.”

Loki shifted a little, tucking the computing tablet beneath the coverlet.

“It occurs to me-no, it has been brought to my attention, that…that we have not really spoken of…of what you learned about your birth, during my banishment.”

Breathing hard, Loki glared at him.

“That is, I have attempted to show, through words and deeds, that you are my brother still. But I have not…brother, I do not know what to ask,” he admitted. Perhaps some putting-off of this particular task would have been a good idea, if he had used the time to really think about what he was going to say. “You were always the one of us gifted with words. And now….” Father, he now realized, ought to have asked, before placing this geas upon Loki. But he hadn’t, so now it was up to Thor to find a way. “The day that was to be my coronation, you told me…never to doubt your love for me.”

Loki bit his lip and looked away.

“My question is this. What-what do you feel has changed?”

“Everything,” Loki snarled, lunging up off the pillows for a half-second. Then, settling back against them again, “And nothing.”

“What do you mean? Speak plainly; you know I am not as clever as you.”

Loki’s jaw worked; Thor thought he might be trying to get out words which the geas would not allow him to speak. Lies, or half-truths. Finally he said, “Lies. Change everything. I was not the only one that your parents lied to.”

“What lies do you mean?”

“They told you that you had a brother. When in fact you only ever had an enemy.”

Thor shook his head. “No, Loki. You are not my enemy. Why do you insist that you are?”

“Do you forget that we fought, these few months past?”

“Of course not. That was…one battle, out of hundreds we have fought together. If you mean to do harm to innocents, to this realm or to Asgard, I must oppose you. That does not make you my enemy.” Loki, Thor was sure, would be able to explain it better.

Scoffing silently, Loki shook his head.

“We can be as we were,” Thor pressed on. “Brothers, and friends.”

Tight-lipped, Loki shook his head again.

“Why not? What stops us?”

“I,” Loki said, and stopped. When he spoke again, Thor was certain that it was not what he had first meant to say. “I do not wish to.”

Thor drew in his breath to insist that what Loki said was untrue. But there was the geas. Loki would not have been able to say what he knew to be untrue. Letting his breath out slowly, Thor swept the tangle of blankets and pillows from the corner at the foot of the bed, and sat. “Things between us have not always been as they should have been,” he admitted, remembering accusations that Loki had flung at him, of living in the shadow of Thor’s greatness. Imagined slights, he’d called them, and he’d thought his words true, when he spoke them. “I wished, often, for a brother who was…more like myself. Who fit more easily into my band of warriors. Who would be content to be my right arm and a mirror I could look into and see my own greatness.” He spread his hands. “I was arrogant and selfish. And I was wrong, if wishing for a different brother led the one I have to believe I do not love him.”

Loki was staring at him, his gaze intent and, as usual, unreadable.

“What say you to that, brother? I dearly wish to know.”

“I say you are a fool, and think me one as well. I say you have no brother, and never had. I say that even if I did wish to be your brother, I cannot. I am a prisoner, I am your enemy, I am Jotun.”

Thor wanted to tell him that wasn’t true, either. Jotun were monsters, little more than animals. Loki could not be one, except that he was-Father admitted it, as unreal as it seemed. Thor still didn’t understand it. “You are Jotun,” Thor allowed. “And you are my brother,” he added, putting the ideas alongside one another, to see how they looked. Passing strange, he had to admit, but they would grow familiar with time. “It is hardly unprecedented,” he added, struggling to warm to the idea. “When you were…ill, I told Tony of how you came to be Sleipnir’s mother. If a horse can have a…a Jotun mother-and a man, no less-then surely an Aesir can have a Jotun brother. Why not?”

“It cannot be so simple,” Loki said.

“Why not?”

“Because it cannot.”

“Brother, I believe you have told me more than once that simply repeating something in a louder voice does not make it true,” Thor noted. “And as you see, I do listen to your wisdom on occasion. Have you any other points to make?”

After a long hesitation, Loki said sulkily, “Not at this time.”

#

That had gone…better than Loki feared. Ever since it became clear that the Avengers had worked out the trick to letting him talk, he’d expected it wouldn’t be long before they took the next step to making him talk. Then, after Dr. Banner’s revelation about Thor’s concern for him, he’d expected-dreaded-that Thor might try to use the geas to force a discussion of his feelings.

Now it had happened. It likely wasn’t over, but he’d gotten through it, giving away less than Thor had. Under the circumstances, he would call that a victory.

So. Thor still thought them brothers-was prepared to insist on it even when Loki threw his Jotun ancestry in his face.

He ought to be glad of that. He could use it. Aesir took ties of kinship seriously; Thor’s insistence that Loki was his brother could be a weapon, if Loki could find a way to wield it.

Mostly, though, it made him shake his head at Thor’s persistent stupidity. He had learned, over and over again, the bitter lesson that how he felt did not change what was. Thor-the All-father’s favorite, everyone’s favorite-had been spared that teaching. What did he imagine, that they would return, Thor would announce that Loki was better, was good, and they would fight side by side again? No. The only place for Loki in Asgard was as a prisoner. The only way they could do battle again was on opposite sides.

Except. Except, some part of him wanted to believe that Thor could pull it off. The same part of him, perhaps, that, waking injured and in pain among enemies, felt safe enough to fall back into sleep because Thor was there. It wanted to believe that if Thor kept believing the old lie, it would somehow become true. And the new lies with it. When it had only been Loki who believed that his magic and cleverness was just as worthy as Thor’s strength and courage, no one had agreed-not any longer than it took for Loki’s magic and cleverness to accomplish what they wanted of him, anyway. But if Thor really believed it, too--

No. Only a fool-only Thor-would be stupid enough to think that his declarations of brotherhood and love could change what had been set between them-what had always been between them. Not even Thor could make Asgard swallow a Jotun in their midst, could undo the All-Father’s rejection of him.

He would get his magic back, somehow. Then he would make his own way for himself. Somehow.

#

When Loki stumbled into the middle of Team Brunch, Tony tried not to stare. Then he remembered it was Loki, and went ahead and stared. Because how often did you see a Norse-god super-villain wandering around in sweatpants and a flannel shirt?

Not often, Tony was pretty sure. He looked a lot less badass without the armor. Kind of scrawny, in fact.

Loki clearly hadn’t been expecting to see them all cluttering up Thor’s kitchen, because as soon as he saw them, he turned on his heel and started back for the bedroom. Before he could get very far, Thor caught him by the arm-the one that didn’t have a cast on it. “Brother, since you have insisted that you are too tired to join our friends in their rooms for meals, I have invited everyone here for breakfast.”

Tony had kind of been wondering what that was about, but he hadn’t asked, because Thor? Made awesome French toast. Where he’d picked up that skill, Tony didn’t have the faintest idea, but each piece was like a slice of buttery, cinnamon-y, honey-y heaven. He’d decided it was worth showing up, even if there was a 75% chance of Loki.

Loki, it was pretty clear, hadn’t gotten the memo about the 100% chance of Avengers, or about Thor’s French toast. “Hey, Loks,” Tony said cheerfully. “You should really try some of this.” He held up the French toast platter, then dumped the two remaining slices from it onto his plate. “I’m sure Thor will make more.”

Loki switched from looking daggers at Thor to staring incredulously at Tony.

“Okay, which part of that is getting me that look? The nickname? Yeah, I agree, it’s terrible. Or Thor cooking? As far as I know, he can’t make anything else, but the French toast is to die for.”

Loki stared at him for another moment, then said, “Both,” as he shook off Thor’s hand.

Tony had a feeling that only worked because Thor was ready to let go anyway. Nudging Loki toward the dining table, Thor headed for the stove, saying, “Yes, I will make more French toast.”

Across the table, Clint stood up quickly, stuffing a last, oversized bite of French toast into his mouth and picking up a sausage. “Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m outta here anyway, you can have my seat.”

Loki gave a satisfied little huff, like at last something was going the way he expected it.

But that quickly went on the window when Clint kept talking. “Look, about the, uh, balcony thing. I didn’t know you were gonna almost die and all. I mean, I still don’t like you.”

Steve cleared his throat meaningfully.

Clint went on, “But I wasn’t trying to kill you or anything. So, uh, sorry. About that. No hard feelings?”

Now Loki turned the incredulous look on Clint, with a side order for the rest of them. Tony couldn’t blame him; it seemed surreal to him, too, and he knew that Steve had made apologizing to Loki a condition of Clint’s return from administrative leave.

Bruce, on Tony’s other side, spoke up. “I’m not, uh, sure if that counts as a question. Loki, what, uh, what do you want to say to Clint?”

Loki tilted his head to one side and grinned manically. “I believe the mortal expression is…are you fucking with me?”

He had, Tony reminded himself, been spending a hell of a lot of time on the internet.

“No,” Clint said. “No, uh, fucking. I’m going to just go now. Steve, can I go now?”

Steve nodded. “Let’s end on a high note. Unless Loki has anything he wants to add?”

Loki made a dismissive gesture with his left hand, and Clint booked it.

Pushing the recently-vacated chair out from the table, Tony said, “Here, sit. We’ll just put this--” He picked up Clint’s used plate, piling the dirty silverware on top of it “-somewhere…else. Thanks,” he added as Bruce took it from his hand and put it on the counter behind him. “Sit,” he repeated.

Loki, still looking deeply uncertain as to whether he was being fucked with, sat.

“The French toast will be like a minute,” Tony went on, listening to the sizzling coming from the kitchen area. “But there’s, um, sausage, and here, you should try the orange juice; it’s fresh-squeezed. Tell me, we’ve all been dying to know, does Thor do much cooking at home? ‘Cause I can’t really picture it. I mean, maybe, like, roasting meat over a fire or something.” God, Tony wished somebody else would say something and shut him up. Open-ended question, open-ended question, “So, yeah, Thor. Cooking. What’s the deal with that?”

“No,” Loki said, accepting the glass of orange juice that Tony was holding out. “Thor has not previously shown much interest in the womanly arts.”

Natasha snorted.

Yeah, it wasn’t wise to make fun of anyone by calling them a girl in Natasha’s presence-Tony had learned that one the hard way-but still, the moment made Tony think Shit, they really are brothers. Teasing the other one about being girly was definitely a brother thing.

Thor, coming back to the table with a huge stack of French toast, said, “I have been given to understand that in this realm, men are expected to know how to cook. Midgardian women feel that a man who has not troubled himself to learn this skill is an ‘overgrown child.’” He put the plate-more of a platter, really-down in front of Loki.

“Jane,” Tony said, with a snap of his fingers. “She taught you how to make this?”

“She introduced me to the process,” Thor answered. “I improved the recipe.” Then he watched anxiously as Loki fumbled with the fork and took his first bite. “What do you think?”

Loki chewed carefully. “It is…not repellent.”

Thor laughed. “I knew you would like it, brother.”

And Tony might have been wrong, but it kind of looked like Loki didn’t, particularly, want to rip Thor’s face off and shove it down his throat.

#

Steve watched as Loki approached the meeting room, at Thor’s side. Now that Loki was up and about, and they had figured out how to get him to say more than one word at a time, they had decided it was a good time to get some answers about the Chitauri and the potential threat they posed to Earth. Steve hoped that, at the same time, they could get some understanding of what had motivated the invasion.

As the two Asgardians passed the spot where Clint had flung Loki over the balcony, Loki edged closer to Thor, as though he were afraid of it. Steve wondered if that was true. He wondered what it said about him that, if Loki was afraid, he was glad. Assaulting Loki when he couldn’t defend himself was the action of a bully; he should have been against it. In theory, he was. In practice, it gave him a bit of satisfaction to think that Loki had known what it was to be helpless and afraid, as Earth had been afraid during his brief reign of terror.

Thor and Loki were the last to arrive; Steve followed them into the room and started the meeting. “How are you feeling, Loki? Not in too much pain, I hope.”

“It is bearable,” Loki said.

“Good. I’m sure Thor explained, we brought you here to talk about the Chitauri. What kind of threat do they pose to the Earth?”

“I know not.”

“Can you speculate?”

“Yes.”

Bruce broke in. “What, uh, what are your thoughts regarding the threat that the Chitauri pose to Earth?”

It felt strange to Steve, not being “good cop,” but Bruce could play that role more convincingly than he could. He and Loki had developed a rapport, while Loki was in the infirmary.

“If they came, I expect you could fight them as you already did.” Loki seemed to measure his next words. “They sent their best technology, and you have plenty of samples to study, do you not?”

“We do,” Tony said cheerfully. “And we’ve been studying the hell out of them. We’re more interested in how likely they are to come back.” With a glance at Bruce, he went on, “What are your thoughts on that?”

“It is difficult to say. The Tesseract was both the cause and the means by which they came. Since it is not here, they would have to find another means to make the journey. I know not whether they would wish to.”

“What kind of other means?” Steve asked.

“Some similarly powerful magical artifact, I suppose.”

“Do they have one?”

“I know not.”

“What do you think about the likelihood that they do?”

“I doubt very much that they had one when I was there, or they would not have wanted the Tesseract so badly. As to whether they have obtained one--” Loki tried to shrug, then winced. “The only such artifacts that I know of are safely in Odin’s treasure room. But their realm was unknown to me-unknown to Asgard-before I went there. There may be other such treasures, less closely guarded.”

Steve had planned to go on asking more questions about Chitauri technology, but Tony interrupted, “How did you hook up with those guys, anyway?”

“I was thrown from the Bifrost,” Loki said, with a sidelong look at Thor.

“You fell,” Thor rumbled.

Bruce made a calming gesture at Thor. “What happened after you-parted company with the Bifrost?”

“I fell through the Void between worlds.”

“What happened next?”

“I fell some more.”

“Brother,” Thor said. “You should try to help our friends. How did you first encounter the Chitauri?”

To Steve’s surprise, the question worked. “I tumbled into some distant branch of the world-tree. As I clung there, like an air bubble to a rock in a stream, the Chitauri came in one of their vessels, and took me to their realm.”

“What do you mean by ‘tumbled into a branch of the world-tree’?” Tony asked.

“I meant what I said. I was falling. Through the Void between worlds. My path intersected with a branch of the world tree.”

“Okay, but the ‘world tree’ is some kind of metaphor. What did you actually bump into?”

“A branch. Of. The. World. Tree.”

“Tony,” Bruce said. “Darmok, remember? Is this important to sort this out right now, or can we put a pin in it and move on?”

“I, for one, vote for moving on,” Natasha said.

“Let’s table comparative astrophysics for now,” Steve agreed. “What happened when they took you to their homeworld?”

“They presented me to their military leader.”

“Then what?”

“He spent some time questioning me about where I had come from, and how, and why. Eventually he took me to Thanos.”

That was new. “Who’s Thanos?”

“He stands to the Chitauri as Odin once did to you mortals. Their God-King.”

“I see.” Steve glanced over at Thor. “Have you ever heard of this guy?”

Thor shook his head. “No. What race is he, brother? Is he of Asgard?”

“No. He is-his own race. I know not what they call themselves.” The others all started asking questions at once-how many were there, what kind of powers did they have, that sort of thing. When the babble died down, Loki said, “I know little of them. Our exchanges of information were rather one-sided.”

Something about the twist Loki put on the words made Steve asked, “When you say ‘exchanges of information,’ do you mean…interrogations?”

“Perhaps.”

“Were they, or weren’t they?” Clint asked. “It’s not that hard a question.”

“Is this an interrogation? If it is, then yes. Sometimes our conversations were less…amicable, sometimes more.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “What, uh, what was your…relationship with Thanos? Your status in his…court, or whatever you’d call it?”

Loki regarded him for a long moment. “My status was…vague. Deliberately so. Honored guest, prisoner of rank, salvaged artifact…the line is not sharply drawn. As we know,” he added with a significant look at Thor. “Since I had little choice in the matter, I ingratiated myself by performing such small magics as were outside Thanos’s skill. I did a great deal of scrying.”

“That must have been a trial to you, brother,” Thor noted. Loki responded with something that was almost a smile.

“Then what?” Tony asked. “How’d you go from prisoner-guest to leading his army?”

“My efforts to prove myself useful granted me some measure of status and…freedom of movement, but I…grew eager to leave his hospitality. He was reluctant to grant my leave. One day-or night; they’re much the same in that place-my scrying detected the Tesseract on Midgard. When I told Thanos of its power, he was eager to possess it. I presented him with a plan. His part was to supply troops and their weapons, along with a minor magical artifact-the ‘glow stick of destiny,’ I believe Stark called it-which would provide the necessary energy to transport myself here. My part was to take control of the Tesseract and use it to create a larger portal that would admit the army, and to command it when it arrived. The agreement was to conclude with my delivering the Tesseract to him, at which point he would exercise no further claim upon me, and would leave this world to my control.”

“So, basically, the Tesseract was a…ransom,” Bruce said. “You had to give this guy Thanos something before he’d let you go. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Loki said. He didn’t look like he enjoyed it one bit. It was a pretty different story than the one he’d told in the SHIELD base and in Stuttgart. He’d set himself up a king, but really he’d been Thanos’s pawn. Maybe a knight or bishop, at best. Steve almost felt sorry for him.

Natasha unfolded her arms slowly, saying, “There’s one part I don’t get. Why was conquering the Earth necessary? Why not just pop in, grab the Tesseract, and pop back out?”

“Because…then the bargain would have been entirely too far to Thanos’s advantage.” And, just like that, Steve didn’t feel sorry for him at all. “To trade an artifact as valuable as the Tesseract simply for my release would be laughable. To trade it for my release and this paltry realm is still a very unequal bargain, but I am a being of simple tastes. Perhaps a small, but thriving realm in a desirable neighborhood was the extent of my ambitions.”

Thor was nodding like that made perfect sense, but Clint spoke up. “Except it wasn’t. I was there, remember? What about double-crossing Thanos, conquering the Chitauri, and then moving on to Asgard?”

“I did say perhaps,” Loki noted. “Those were…long term hopes. Dreams. I was prepared to settle for just Midgard.”

“You would have been near home,” Thor observed, sounding a little bit wistful about it.

“Near enough to conquer it,” Clint pointed out.

Steve tried to drag things back on track. “So Thanos is the real threat-the Chitauri won’t move against us without his order, correct?”

“Yes,” Loki said.

“How much of what you said about the Chitauri as a threat to Earth is true of Thanos?” Tony asked.

“Most of it.”

“Which part isn’t true?”

“I do know of a reason why Thanos might wish to return,” Loki said, clearly reluctant.

“What reason?” Steve asked.

Loki opened his mouth, then closed it again. “He did promise me tortures beyond my imagining if I failed to uphold my end of the bargain.”

“So, basically, Thanos might send the Chitauri back to get at your worthless ass?” Clint asked.

“Brother,” Thor said. “Why did you not mention this threat before?”

“You never asked.” After a moment, Loki added, “And I greatly doubt his ability to carry it out.”

“You don’t think he can torture you beyond imagining?” Natasha asked.

“No, that I’m quite confident he can do.”

“But the things you said about the Chitauri not having a way to get here,” Tony said. “Is that all true of Thanos?”

“Yes.”

“Then that doesn’t change things for us that much,” Tony said, looking around the table at all of them. “Even if he’s strongly motivated to track Loki down, the chances that he’ll figure out a way to do it in the short time that Loki’s here are pretty slim. And we have found a lot of weaknesses in their tech.”

Natasha said, “Not to mention, if he does show up while Loki’s here, we can just hand him over.”

“Could even be a reward,” Clint added.

“We will not surrender my brother to an enemy,” Thor declared.

Steve had to agree. “Not really our call,” he reminded the two assassins. “He’s Asgard’s prisoner. But we can’t be a party to surrendering a prisoner to a foreign power that we know intends to torture him.”

“I’m pretty sure I could manage to sleep at night,” Natasha answered.

Thor turned to Loki, placing a hand on his arm, and said earnestly, “I will not allow such a thing to happen, brother.”

“It’s hypothetical anyway,” Steve reminded them. “But SHIELD’s going to want to start a dossier on Thanos. What do you know about him? Tell us everything.”

#

An hour or so later, Loki was still monologuing. Bruce knew that the geas didn’t require Loki to answer questions comprehensively, so it was clear that he was telling them all about everything from Thanos’s fashion sense (creepy) and his religious beliefs (even creepier) just to be a dick.

Bruce couldn’t help but be impressed by his sheer commitment to his dickishness. With injuries like his, sitting up and talking for long periods couldn’t be comfortable. As Bruce watched, his posture became stiffer, his breaths shallower. Loki was willing to suffer for his art; you had to give him that.

Bruce was also pretty sure that everybody else knew exactly what trick Loki was pulling, and nobody wanted to be the first to tap out. Steve was watching Loki with an intent expression on his face, taking notes-but Steve could look intent and take notes watching paint dry. Natasha was leaning back in her chair, arms folded across her chest. Bruce wouldn’t put it past her to be napping with her eyes open. Clint was spinning an arrowhead on the tabletop, occasionally glancing up from it to Loki with an expression of utter boredom. Tony had his phone out; he was probably solving world hunger, or else playing Candy Crush. Thor alternated between trying to look interested and openly fidgeting. Every now and then he opened his mouth or cleared his throat, at which point Loki would stop talking and look at him with a disdainful expression, until Thor shook his head and Loki went back to describing Thanos’s favorite chandelier.

Finally, Bruce realized that he had a way to put everyone out of their misery, without letting Loki win his little game. Holding up his hand, he said, “Steve?”

Loki shut up for a moment, and Steve sat up a little straighter. “Yes?”

“We should draw this to a close soon, on medical grounds. Loki’s still recovering from his injuries; it isn’t good for him to over-exert himself. We can pick this up again another day.” If anyone was crazy enough to want to.

Steve nodded sharply. “Yes, you’re right. Humane treatment of prisoners is very important.”

Loki’s expression was priceless, half relieved and half annoyed that he’d been thwarted.

Steve went on, “Does anyone have any final questions, before we wrap up?”

“I do,” Tony said. “Loki, is there anything useful, important, or relevant that you haven’t already told us about Thanos?”

Loki considered. “No.”

“Anyone else?” Steve asked. After a rousing chorus of silence, he said, “Loki, thank you for your cooperation; you may go.” As everyone started to stand up, Steve added, “Everybody else should stay for just a little bit longer to discuss implications.”

“Oh come on,” Clint moaned.

“Can we at least take a break and reconvene in my apartment?” Tony asked. “I need a drink. And a pee.”

“Hear, hear,” Natasha said.

Steve agreed that they could meet up at Tony’s in fifteen minutes-which Bruce mentally extended to twenty or even thirty-and they began staggering to their feet and filing out. Out on the mezzanine, Bruce joined Loki and Thor-noticing as he did that Loki was keeping Thor between himself and the railing-as Thor was saying, “Brother, why did you not tell Father that your attack on this world was not entirely of your own will?”

“It wasn’t relevant,” Loki answered, glaring past his brother’s shoulder at Bruce.

Thor turned to see who he was glaring at. “Ah, Bruce. I appreciate your concern for Loki’s well-being. I would have said something myself,” he explained, looking earnestly at Loki, “but I did not know that on Midgard it is customary to halt an-a questioning, when the subject becomes tired.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce said. Then, out of a mixture of genuine concern and desire to sell the bit, he asked solicitously how Loki was feeling, and if he needed any pain medication or supplemental oxygen.

Loki refused both, and left in the direction of their apartment. Thor, after a moment’s hesitation, followed him.

By the time Bruce got to Tony’s apartment, Tony was mixing drinks and talking about ordering dinner. “Bruce!” he hailed, holding a drink in his direction. “Excellent. I thought we were going to be stuck in there forever.”

“You know, any of us could have told him to stop stalling at any time,” Bruce pointed out as he took it.

“Yeah, but then he would have won.”

Thor was the last one to rejoin the group, explaining as he did so that he’d had to persuade Loki to rest. “But it is glad news that we have received this day, is it not?”

Everyone looked at him with varying degrees of disbelief.

“I think I speak for everyone,” Tony said, “when I say, ‘What?’”

“We now understand my brother’s reasons for attacking your world,” Thor explained. “It has long troubled me. I thought-in my arrogance-that he chose it merely because it is dear to me. It sorrows me to learn that he was held prisoner by this Thanos, but now we know that he bears no particular enmity to your world.”

“Yeah,” Natasha said, very sarcastic. “That’s a huge relief.”

Thor looked befuddled.

Bruce said, “It does, uh, I mean, it is a more sympathetic explanation than anything we’ve heard before. Assuming it’s true. He was…under somebody else’s control, and he had to play into what they wanted, if he was going to have any kind of…autonomy.” Half-prisoner, half-guest kind of reminded Bruce of his status with SHIELD sometimes. They were willing to treat him like a person and an employee as long as he did what they wanted, but they both knew it could change at any time. “Some of us know what that’s like.”

“I know exactly what it’s like,” Tony said flatly. “And the answer isn’t ‘give them what they want, and conquer yourself a kingdom in the bargain.’ Escape, that’s an option. Play along until he got his hands on the stick, then teleport himself to Asgard for some backup. Or come here first, if that’s how the stick works, and then zap himself home. That’s what I would have done.”

Thor sighed. “I wish greatly that he had done as you describe.” He offered tentatively, “He was already quite troubled in his mind when he fell from the Bifrost, and I fear that his treatment at the hands of Thanos further unsettled him.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony said. “I’m not exactly overwhelmed with sympathy for him. Sorry.”

“I do not expect you to be overwhelmed,” Thor said seriously, his eyes going from one face to the next, and not finding much sympathy anywhere.

“Look,” Bruce said, feeling bad for him, “You’re right, in terms of, of your relationship, his mental health, it changes things to know he had a reason. It doesn’t change what he did,” he added, looking around at the others. “But it does make a difference in terms of what we can expect from him going forward. If his…behavior…was brought on by acute stress, from finding out about the adoption along with whatever Thanos did to him…maybe he’ll get better. I’m sure it’ll take some time, but…you guys live a long time, don’t you?”

“Our father is ten thousand of your years old,” Thor agreed. “And Loki is barely a thousand.”

“I’ll pull together some resources for you,” Bruce promised. “On adoption, and trauma, and…whatever else I can think of. Maybe you’ll be able to get some ideas on how to help him. All right?”

“I would be grateful,” Thor said.

“Let’s talk about Thanos,” Steve suggested.

They did, eventually deciding that little had changed-the Chitauri might or might not return. SHIELD, Tony, and Bruce were already working on understanding their physical and technological vulnerabilities, and on developing a means of detecting and-hopefully, down the road-closing portals like the one the Tesseract had created. The priority level of those projects wasn’t significantly altered.

Bruce hung back when the others left. Tony offered him another drink, saying, “So, what, you actually feeling sorry for--” Apparently at a loss for a new nickname, he crooked his fingers into devil horns behind his own head, and continued, “Or were you just trying to calm Thor down?”

“A little of both,” Bruce admitted. “Considering he could live for another nine thousand years, it would be better for all concerned if he could be convinced that the genocide and world-conquering were just a phase he was going through. I don’t know if that’s something anyone can come back from,” he added, thinking of the opinion Tony had expressed before Loki’s injury. “But I do know that if everyone-including Loki-thinks he’s an irredeemable monster, that’s what he’ll be. Thor’s faith that he can change is the best thing he’s got going for him.”

#

For younger children, Loki read, a positive sense of cultural identity can be fostered by reading folktales or other stories from the child’s birth culture. Older children, including teens, may enjoy movies from the birth culture. For all ages, meals based on the birth culture’s cuisine can be fun.

Ah. So that explained why Thor had asked him what Jotun ate, the other day. Over the last few days, Loki had seen Thor reading a book about “trans-cultural adoption.” Presumably one with large type and plenty of pictures. Since Thor and Dr. Banner both seemed intent on characterizing what had happened to Loki as “adoption” rather than “captivity,” he’d decided it might be prudent to research what they thought they were talking about.

Midgardians, it seemed, made rather a hobby of adopting infants from less pleasant parts of their realm. Several celebrities were known for it. The mortals appeared to consider it important to raise such children to take pride in their heritage.

Loki had absolutely no idea why anyone would want to rescue an infant from a primitive backwater, and then teach that infant to take pride in that same primitive backwater, but apparently it made sense to the mortals. Of course, they didn’t have the option of using magic to make the child appear as one of their own-but still, it would be much more practical to emphasize the horrors that the child had escaped, and thus to inspire gratitude and filial piety.

It amused him, though, to imagine Frigga and Odin doing as these mortals urged. Learning the tales that Jotun parents crooned to their cubs, and telling them to him in turn. Feasting on snow and the flesh of disobedient children-or whatever it was Frost Giants really ate. Teaching him to communicate in the grunts and growls that such creatures used.

They would never have disgraced themselves in that way. Perhaps if they had-

Suddenly, his thoughts didn’t seem funny anymore.

Later that day, Banner turned up in the sitting room, which Loki was making use of while Thor was out sparring with Rogers. “Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

Why Banner was asking him, he had no idea. Surely Loki had no say about who was permitted in Thor’s quarters and who was not. “I expect so.”

Banner entered and sat on the second sofa, across from Loki. “How’s your shoulder?”

Ah, so it was a professional visit. “No worse.” The pain really wasn’t bad, now. If he exerted himself and tried to draw a deep breath, he suspected he would regret it, but by now the inconvenience of the cast, and the indignity of the flimsy mortal clothing he had to wear over it troubled him more than the pain of his injuries.

“Good. And, uh, Thor said you guys had a good talk about, uh, the adoption thing.”

Was that how Thor had characterized it?

“Like I said, I can’t share with him anything you’ve told me as your doctor. But that doesn’t mean I can’t, uh, listen. And I noticed that what you told him is pretty different from what you told me.”

Loki wondered if he was about to be accused of breaking the geas. It was a flattering conjecture, but he was in no mood to appreciate the irony of being accused of something he wished dearly that he could do.

But Banner said, “That’s, you know, I understand this geas thing has to be pretty invasive, and dealing out half-truths is a way to keep some of your privacy. But Thor is trying like hell to understand what your problem is, and that’s…you’ve done some horrible things. I mean, really horrible things. And one of the people you hurt most wants to understand why you did it, and forgive you. That’s…not an opportunity everyone gets. So maybe, you know, think about not
throwing that away.”

Banner seemed to be waiting for a reply, even though he should know better. Finally, Loki nodded curtly, just to get Banner to stop looking at him.

“Do you…want to respond to that?”

“No.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I just…wanted to say that. And then I did have a question, if that’s okay. When we talked, before. You said that you weren’t adopted, you were stolen. And that got me wondering…I mean, maybe this is just a translation issue. But in our language, you can’t steal people. You kidnap them.”

Loki nodded.

“So my question is, are Jotun -people?”

The answer came out faster than thought. “No.”

“Okay,” Banner said, nodding. Loki was pathetically grateful for the expression of pity that didn’t pass over his face. “What are they, then? Things? Animals?”

“Monsters.”

“Yeah. Okay. So.” Banner clasped his hands between his knees and looked down at them. “What does that…mean, about you?”

“That I’m a monster, as well,” Loki answered woodenly. So Banner had come here to taunt him after all. He should have expected it.

“That’s-yeah, okay. But what does that mean? Are you-I mean, I came out of the monster closet not too long ago. You’ve seen the other guy. I-lose control and turn into a big green rage-monster, is how Tony put it. Your thing isn’t like that, is it?”

“No.” His was blue, for one thing.

“I didn’t think so. You seem…pretty in control. Is that accurate? Do you feel like you just can’t help hurting people, attacking planets, that sort of thing?”

“Yes. No. I’m not an animal attacking by mindless instinct.”

“Okay. Is that…what most Jotun are?”

“I know not.”

“What do you know about Jotun?”

Precious little. “They are the enemies of Asgard. Their realm is a wasteland of ice. They have ever sought to invade other realms, more hospitable than their own. But any realm they touch becomes as frozen and barren as theirs. They invaded this realm, once-you mortals call it the Age of Ice. Odin drove them back. Children, in Asgard, are told that if they disobey their nurses, the Frost Giants will come and eat them up.” Loki shook his head. “They are capable of planning, of a rudimentary sort. They form armies-not very organized ones. Like packs of wild dogs. I dealt with them once-led them into Asgard, a sneak attack on Odin’s treasure chamber. To provoke Thor into demonstrating his rash nature, so Fa-so Odin would think better of making him king. I’m sure he’s told you the story.”

“He has,” Banner said. “He says you told him not to attack Jotunheim. That it was reckless, Odin wouldn’t approve. You knew that the best way of getting him to do something reckless was to urge him to be cautious. He says you were right. That if he really was ready to be king, he wouldn’t have fallen for it. He says you could have left him to get himself killed on Jotunheim, but instead, you made sure he got back safely. Why’d you do that?”

Because it had always been his role to save Thor from his own foolhardiness. “I thought he was my brother.”

“So…would you do it again, now? If he was risking his neck doing something stupid, would you stop him?”

Loki fought against the geas, which would not let him answer, No. “I know not.” Without his magic, he couldn’t see the future. Perhaps, in the heat of the moment, habit would take over.

“Do you-want to expand on that?”

“No.”

“Okay. How about we go back to the Jotun? Is that okay?”

He preferred it to some other subjects. “Yes.”

“What about their culture-stories, art, religion, music. What do you know about that?”

“They have no culture worthy of the name.”

“How do you know that?”

It was a startling question. He knew it because everyone-all Aesir-knew it. “I have never heard of any.”

“So maybe they do, and they just don’t share it with their enemies,” Banner suggested. “What do you think about that?”

“Anything is possible.”

“Once, when Thor was talking about your magic, he said that you had-used to have-an unusual talent for walking between worlds. Then he said that for all he knew, it was a common ability of Jotun.”

Trust Thor to try to take that away from him, too. The one thing that had made him special.

“What about magic? Do they have…I’m not even sure what you call them. Sorcerers? Wizards?”

“Not as Aesir do.”

“What do they have?”

“Ice magic. They draw the moisture from the air, or their own bodies, and shape it into swords or spears. A crude form of--” He searched for a word Banner would understand. “Of the form of magic that is like your chemistry.” That type of working had come easily to him. Now he knew why. Though he had quickly moved beyond mere ice.

“That makes sense, that they’d start there. If their world is mostly ice. Humans, early humans, made tools out of rocks and sticks, because those materials were readily available.” Banner leaned back on the sofa, bringing his hand to his face. “One thing that we’ve figured out, about the different cultures here on Earth, is that the ones that advanced the fastest were the ones in places with a decent climate, raw materials, species diversity, stuff like that. They didn’t have to put quite as much time into staying alive, so they could experiment with more sophisticated tools, with developing art and culture and religion. And that led them to agriculture, and that was where cultural and technological development really exploded. And led to…all this.” Banner gestured at their surroundings. “Am I boring you? I do have a point.”

Loki suspected he knew what the point was, and he wasn’t sure if he ought to be offended or…something else. “I am not bored.”

“Really? Great. So, where I was going was that, groups of people that lived on the edge of survival, once they found something that worked, they generally stuck with it. Because if they took the risk of trying something new, they would die. And for a lot of our history, we-the people who had the best technology-thought that the people from those…less hospitable…parts of the world weren’t quite as good as others. That they weren’t as smart, weren’t as…human.” Banner grinned, sharp and humorless. “So that’s what it reminded me of, what you’ve said about Jotunheim. I mean, neither of us, it seems, know what they’re really like. But maybe, maybe, they seem crude and uncivilized because their realm is a lot harder to live on than Asgard. You have to have a steady food supply before you can build a skyscraper. Or a Bifrost. The problem can’t be that they’re stupid, because…you’re not. And it can’t be that they’re evil, because…you’re not that, either.”

Loki jerked back where he sat, in a sudden, involuntary spasm.

“What?”

“How can you say I am not evil? I would have destroyed that realm of monsters that you pity so. Warriors, and sows, and cubs alike.” He’d thought that the mortals considered his attack on their realm “evil” as well, but he was less sure of that.

“Yeah, that was…not one of your better moments,” Banner conceded. “But it’s not the only thing you’ve ever done. Thor talks about you a lot. Trying to get us to see you the way he does. It’s pretty clear that you were always a sly little shit with a chip on your shoulder, but there’s a lot of ground between that and evil. I mean, take Tony. He’s my best friend, love him like a brother-but he can be kind of a douchebag sometimes.” Banner laughed hollowly. “The way he treats women is…revolting. He goes around seducing women at the drop of a hat, and then it’s like he thinks that the fact that they had sex with him proves they’re promiscuous garbage with poor judgment and no self-respect. It’s a self-loathing thing. Which brings me back to my point.” He stared into the middle distance for a long time.

Loki shifted position, crossing his legs ankle-over-knee.

“Right, yeah. Point. When I was…adjusting, to being the Hulk. One of the first things I did was try to kill myself. I’m not talking a handful of pills and tearful 9-1-1 call; I mean really serious, earnest attempts. Shooting myself in the head, jumping off buildings.”

Loki pictured a bullet ripping through Banner’s head, spattering blood and brains against the wall behind him. The image was…not as pleasing as he would have expected.

Banner went on, “Thought about setting myself on fire, but I was too chickenshit to try it. The other guy just would. Not. Die.” Banner shook his head. “There was only one of me. If there had been others-a country full of big, green rage monsters that I’d been taught all my life to hate-and I had a way to kill them all?” Banner shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I sure can’t swear that I wouldn’t have tried. As it was, I did a lot of damage. Hurt a lot of people. Killed a lot of people. People I knew were people. What do you think about that? Am I evil?”

“I’m hardly one to judge,” Loki noted.

“This is America. Everyone has the right to an opinion. What do you think?”

“I think…it matters not what I think.” It was laughable, asking him to sit in judgment over one of the Avengers. Ridiculous, to suggest that he and Banner had anything in common.

“You’re right about that,” Banner admitted. “A question like that, it really only matters what I think. Want to hear what I eventually decided?”

Loki swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“I decided…I’m exactly as evil as I always was. A little bit.” He held his thumb and forefinger a small distance apart. “Everyone is. Some more than others. I can’t get rid of it. I can’t get rid of the Hulk. I can’t undo the things that he-that I-did. But it doesn’t define me. I choose not to let it define me. I am a monster. I lose control and turn into a big, green rage-thing. But I get to decide what that means. I get to decide how that affects me, how it affects the people around me. And that makes me-at the heart of things-exactly like everyone else. We all have strengths, weaknesses. Things we’re good at, things we like. Things we don’t like about ourselves. Ways we can hurt other people. Ways we can…not, do that. So, that’s what I think. You can go on saying, ‘I’m a monster,’ like it’s a hole you can’t get out of, or you can…decide what kind of monster you want to be.” Bruce’s mouth twisted wryly. “Thus endeth the lesson. Any questions, comments, rants?”

“Yes.” So many.

“Which?”

“Comment. Or rant. I’m not sure of the distinction.”

“Okay. What, uh…will this work? What do you want to say?”

It did work. “You speak of choosing. What choice do you imagine I have? I cannot choose to be what I always believed I was-a prince of the Aesir. I cannot choose to have my magic back. I cannot choose to leave this cursed tower. I cannot even choose but to sit here and listen to you prate to me of choice. What choice have I but to be Thor’s pet?” Banner had touched on the point that rankled most. It was his magic, and his status as Odin’s supposed son, that had given him the power to choose what he would make of his life. Without it…he could choose what he wished to watch on television, and little else.

“Do you…want me to answer that?”

“Oh, yes, please, do,” Loki said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“First of all-the last time you didn’t want to listen to me ‘prate,’ you didn’t have any trouble leaving the room. Did something change to make that not an option?”

Perhaps that had been a poorly-chosen example. “No.”

“Okay, so that was a choice. You chose to sit here and listen to me saying a lot of stuff you didn’t want to hear, and answering questions you maybe weren’t completely thrilled about answering. For what it’s worth, I think that was a good choice. Other choices…we’re not actually stopping you from leaving the tower, either. You try it, we’re gonna have to either haul you back, or escort you to make sure you don’t get killed, or kill anyone, and we’d probably end up putting you in a cell, over Thor’s objections. You decided not to make us do that. You’ve also chosen not to try to kill us while we’re sleeping. You would not succeed, but you haven’t tried. Again, I approve of those choices. You could, if you really wanted to, drive us to the point where we have to put you down like a mad dog. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little envious, that you have that option.”

That choice, Loki had recognized-death, or this torment of a half-life. He didn’t know what it said about him, that he clung to life so desperately.

“As for the bigger picture stuff…I don’t know what your options are. I’m not sure I know what mine are. For a long time, I thought being on the run, hiding from the authorities, keeping the monster under wraps-I thought it was either that or spend the rest of my life in a SHIELD cell being experimented on. Then this came up.” He gestured at their surroundings. “I’m not sure how SHIELD would take it if I decided to give up on being an Avenger and go, I don’t know, open a demolitions company or something. Going back to my old life-academia, private research, anything like that-probably isn’t on the table. The other guy is a huge liability risk; I’m pretty sure SHIELD and Tony are the only ones who can afford the insurance. Even here, I think they split the bill. I haven’t…I’m okay with where I am now, so I haven’t looked into it.” He shrugged. “Think about what you can do, and what you want to do, and try to find someplace where they overlap. You wanna brainstorm? I can try to help you with that, if you want.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Loki admitted.

“Brainstorming is, uh, where you make a list, of ideas. Everything we can think of that you could do, even the really bad ideas. Sometimes getting those out helps you move on to the better ideas. You want to try it?”

“No. Perhaps later.”

“Okay. Yeah, this has been kind of a heavy talk. What do you want me to do? I can go, or just hang out, if you…I mean, whatever.”

Recognizing Banner’s clumsy overture of friendship, Loki swatted it down. “You may go.”

Link to Part 5