Eighth Thor / Being Human Crossover: Chapter Thirty-Three

[coneycat_fic]

Notes: It was surprisingly hard to find specs for the Quinjet, at least on the Marvel wikis I could access on my phone when I went looking. Memo to such wiki writers: in the "History" section on the aircraft, could you please put in more information about type development and fewer recaps of the ENTIRE PLOT OF THE AVENGERS? I just wanted to know if the Quinjet is STOL! In the third wiki I consulted, I did find out that it's VTOL-- Vertical Take-Off and Landing. Thank you!

[I had similar problems when I was working on Brother's Keeper and needed to know the maximum flying speed of the helicarrier for a plot point. That was before The Avengers was released, but I still found much more recapping than specs. Seriously, be better boffins! I finally gave up and just had the helicarrier send a squadron of its jets to attack London, because I could easily find specs on real jet fighters to use for reference.

All of which actually sent the attack on London off in a direction that was much more fun to write, at least from my point of view, so I won't complain too hard about that...]

This message brought to you by the nerd who's spent the fall collecting books about World War II aircraft...

I keep apologizing for life intervening in various ways in the writing of this story. Of late I've been planning a move (just across the same town) and looking for a new living space. All of that has been very distracting of late, on top of the work stuff, and should reach a crescendo by the New Year. I say this only because I sometimes worry when people I follow online vanish for long periods. Everything is fine-- more than fine-- but writing time and concentration is still a bit squeezed. Sorry.

Warnings: Heroes can be arseholes-- but so can supervillains. Also, remember that in A!Loki's head, the Avengers are all referred to by surnames. And also that his impressions of the world are his own, and may or may not reflect objective reality or anyone else's intentions.


Chapter Thirty-Three

Thanks to the Quinjet's vertical landing capacity, the SHIELD pilot was able to set it down in a field, an easy walk to the lodge for the three Avengers.

Much to Tony's relief, Coulson and Thor had taken charge of the Extravengers. Coulson, obviously, could handle the situation (Coulson was his own mathematical equation: he was pretty much equal to anything), but Tony felt a little sorry for Thor.

Unless, of course, Real-Thor intended to take advantage of the chance to have a moment alone with Othor. And possibly a big stick, which prospect filled Tony with savage good cheer.

"Mitchell? Are you coming with us, or do you want to stick with Coulson and Thor?" Steve had asked as he, Bruce, and Tony got ready to meet the Quinjet.

Mitchell fidgeted, looking torn, before finally replying, "I think I'll stay with Coulson and Thor, and then I might actually go back to Bristol and see if Clint needs any help. Look, about the other Loki-- the best thing for you to do is to follow Annie's lead, all right? And don't crowd him if you can help it. I don't know if he'd be inclined to try to hurt you-- and anyway I'm pretty sure he couldn't even if he wanted to-- but if he panics or something he might be able to hurt himself."

Thinking about the condition their Loki had been in after only a couple of days in the custody of the Extravengers, Tony was quite willing to promise to be careful. Steve and Bruce naturally went without saying.

So here they were, back in Scotland. Tony hadn't spent so much time here since he was a kid. And apart from the obvious worries about, you know, supervillains allying with vampires to possibly take over the world-- or, more realistically, to attempt to take over the world, leaving a lot of destruction and death in their wake before they were stopped with maximum prejudice-- it really was a beautiful day for a walk. Particularly when Steve, without comment, picked up Tony's and Bruce's duffle bags as well as his own and marched off down the worn track toward the house. When he was a kid, Tony used to fantasize about having a pony to ride along this track-- not that he knew how to ride a pony, or had any experience with pets aside from the ones small enough to live in cages or tanks in his room at school, where they couldn't get in Howard's way or annoy him. He'd never asked for a pony-- if Howard didn't actually say "no," Tony could still pretend it was possible.

All of which, he reminded himself, was absolutely neither here nor there. As they approached the house, Tony sent a quick text to Natasha to let her give Annie-- and therefore Loki-- some advance warning. Just under ten minutes later, they were walking up to the front door.

"Honey, I'm home!" Tony yelled as the three stepped into the entry hall and Steve dropped their things. In response, Annie appeared-- literally appeared, like from out of thin air-- in front of them and threw her arms around Tony. Annie was affectionate with her friends, but not normally in the habit of tackle-hugging the Avengers. She was also usually a lot more careful about showing her powers when there was an ordinary human in the house. She must be pretty freaked out by everything, then.

"I'm so glad to see you all," she exclaimed, holding Tony's hand in her cold one and talking almost too fast to understand, the way she did when she was worked up.

"Sounds like you had a rough night out here," Steve sympathized. Annie nodded vigorously, then blushed when Steve added, "But it also sounds like you handled it all really well."

Annie made a brushing-away gesture, and Tony asked the question he'd been afraid to, earlier:

"When the commotion happened last night-- Doom and the vampire would have had to get past my security guards. Does anyone know what happened to them?"

"Doom put some kind of spell on them," Annie explained quickly, "but they weren't hurt and Loki managed to lift it-- the spell-- a little while ago. He and Nina, that's George's friend, she's a nurse, looked after them and then we sent them home. They didn't remember anything about last night, so we thought we'd better just get them out of the way."

"Good idea," Steve said, with an approving smile. Annie smiled back.

"Come on, you can meet everyone," she said, leading the way toward the television room at the back of the house, in what Tony finally realized was a planned-out maneuver. He would have expected Natasha to meet and brief them, while Annie hung back with Loki. Instead, it made sense that Annie be the one to lead the Avengers to Loki, to demonstrate that she trusted them.

Steve had mentioned Annie doing something similar, the time Steve had been hit with a spell that made him afraid of his friends and colleagues in the Avengers. The housemates had been trying to convince Steve that he could trust Thor, and part of their technique had involved Annie voluntarily approaching Thor to demonstrate that she wasn't afraid of him. That the gambit had worked was probably mostly because Steve was Steve, but certainly Annie being Annie had also played a part.

Natasha, who was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, raised a hand in greeting when the Avengers walked in. Tony's response, for one, was probably a bit distracted. It wasn't that he wasn't glad to see her, it was just--

Jesus, Loki. No wonder Thor was shook up.

Seated at the far end of the far couch in a pose of exaggerated (and quite probably fake) relaxation, Loki was wearing jeans and a dark blue cotton button-down that had to belong to, to their Loki. In fact Tony was pretty sure this was the same shirt their Loki had worn on Ellen's TV show.

It had looked just fine on the original Loki, but wasn't entirely a success on this one. The colour of the shirt managed to both wash out his greyish complexion and accent the heavy shadows in the hollows under his eyes and cheekbones. The blue shirt was cut for someone tall and thin in the first place-- it wasn't like their Loki was a bruiser-- but even so it hung off this one's scrawny shoulders. Come to think of it, the jeans he was wearing looked a whole lot looser than intended as well.

He looked like hell, frankly, ashen skin stretched tight over the prominent bones of his face and grayish-green eyes half again as large as they should look. The most upsetting thing about it all was, he was still obviously Loki-- he looked like someone had Photoshopped their Loki, adding years to his age, subtracting a whole lot of weight he couldn't afford to lose, and carving lines of pain, exhaustion, and anger into his face. It was a bit like looking at pictures of, say, a young RAF pilot before and after the Battle of Britain.

It was also a very uncomfortable reminder of what might have been for their own Loki, if his time in the void had gone differently. Not something Tony cared to dwell upon, frankly.

And then, of course, he found himself remembering the guy he used to see in the mirror, just before and immediately after his time in Afghanistan--

-- And that was just about enough of that, thanks, since Tony figured he'd be busy enough in the near future without actively courting flashbacks.

Tony was conscious of Steve starting forward, glanced over in time to register the solicitous look on the captain's face-- and the way he came to a sudden halt. Tony looked back at Loki, watched the sorcerer draw himself up, wearing an expression that combined arrogance with defensiveness in a way that reminded Tony of nothing quite so much as a cobra spreading its hood. Even if you thought to look for fear in his expression you were unlikely to spot it, but-- just like the cobra-- Tony was pretty sure it was there all the same.

It was pretty hard not to think of his first encounter with their Loki-- no, not the first one, come to think of it. Tony-- or rather, Iron Man's-- first encounter with the Loki they all knew had occurred outside the school where Loki worked. Loki had actually tried pretty hard to be reasonable but Tony had, unfortunately, been operating with bad-- well, outdated-- intelligence. As a result he'd had a mistaken impression of the threat level represented by Thor's brother, and when Loki turned to walk back into a school full of little kids he'd panicked and over-reacted.

Their second encounter happened after Tony had flattened Loki with his repulsors, when Loki woke up in restraints. There had been a little of the scared, angry cobra in his expression then-- at least until Thor showed up and reassured him. Which, from what Thor had told them, seemed unlikely to happen this time.

Loki rose from his seat, shoulders square and chin lifted a little, and Steve took an unobtrusive step backward. It wasn't that Cap was intimidated by the exhausted-looking sorcerer-- rather, it was pretty obvious his concern was all the other way. It wasn't clear Loki recognized Steve's intentions, but he clearly resented them anyway.

Tony opted for good sense, for once, and let Steve lead:

"Hi Loki, I'm Steve Rogers, one of the-- "

"I know who you are," Loki replied flatly. Annie crossed the room to stand beside him. Her all-friends-here gesture fell rather flat, since Loki immediately angled his body to put himself between Annie and the Avengers, as if he was afraid they might attack her. Tony probably should have been offended, and certainly Annie looked nonplussed, but at least half the gesture was so unambiguously Loki that Tony found himself kind of reassured by it.

"I don't think any of you have met Nina," George spoke up suddenly, from another corner of the room. "Nina Pickering-- Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Bruce Banner."

"Pleasure," said the tiny fluffy-haired young woman next to him, her tone no more welcoming than Loki's. Her quick, protective glance at George suggested a lack of enthusiasm for superheroics, at least as they related to George.

"It's very nice to meet you," Steve greeted her gravely, and after a few seconds Nina smiled at him. Which at least let Tony know they hadn't been sucked into some weird parallel universe.

Really, it might have been smarter for Tony to let Steve do all the talking-- and maybe Bruce, who was good with people as long as he wasn't green and they weren't trying to perform experiments on him-- but Tony spoke up anyway:

"Annie tells me that you and Loki looked after my security guards after Doom zapped them. Thank you-- I underestimated the danger they'd be in, and it would have been pretty awful if they'd been killed or something because of my mistake."

"It was more Loki than me," Nina replied. "He was the one who lifted the spell."

"Thank you," Tony repeated, directly to Loki this time, and ignored the faint sneer he got in response. It was of course possible the sneer was genuine, but it felt unproductive to assume as much. Tony had spent years expecting the worst of people, but-- except for Obie, who ironically had been the one person Tony had expectations of-- he'd generally been mistaken, and these days he tried to remember that.

While, of course, keeping his guard up, because he wasn't stupid.

When Loki didn't respond, the Avengers didn't press him. Instead, Steve changed the subject.

"Okay. We know that, as of this past winter, Dr. Doom had a place here in Scotland. Of course he might have gone back to Latveria by now-- "

"How likely is that?" Bruce asked, breaking his silence for the first time and obviously ignoring Loki's expression of defensive hostility, which seemed a little more pronounced now. "I mean," Bruce went on, "Latveria's one of those landlocked little countries right in the middle of Europe, isn't it? That would be quite a haul, going back and forth between here and there every time he wants to cause trouble."

"Depending on whether he was traveling by magic," Tony pointed out.

"Do we have any way of finding out?" Steve asked. Tony very carefully didn't look at Loki. He wasn't the only one carefully not looking at Loki.

Which might have been part of the reason Loki abruptly got to his feet and walked out of the room.

"Damn," Tony muttered.

~oOo~

Strangely, even with the dwelling's owner present-- even knowing who that owner was-- the bedchamber still felt like a sanctuary. Loki closed the door, first remembering to ensure he had not shut the little cats into the room with him. He then crossed to where Men At Arms lay on the floor and picked up the book. He smoothed a few crumpled pages, then returned to his-- to the-- comfortable chair and found his place in the story.

After a moment, he looked up to where the voice came from the walls, and asked it for music. And then he stared at the printed page as the music washed over him and his heart gradually slowed down.

He must have presented a cozy image by the time Steve Rogers knocked on the door.

"Hi, Loki? May I come in? I'd like to speak with you for a minute."

"Enter," Loki replied, distantly. The door opened and Rogers sidled through. Loki closed his book and held it in both hands, drawing himself stiffly upright as he did so. "Yes?"

Rogers made a deprecatory gesture and remained in the doorway. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that nobody here wants to put any pressure on you. We know you've been through a really rough time, and you don't owe us anything, and we're not going to ask you for anything. All right?"

Loki inclined his head, his expression cool and, he hoped, hiding the painful way his heart was thumping once again. Of course they did not trust him. Why would they?

And if they did ask for his help, what would his answer be?

Loki did not know the answer to his own question, but it seemed unlikely to matter, since the question would never be asked.

"Is that all?" he inquired coolly, and had the small satisfaction of watching the captain wince.

"Sure," Rogers murmured, and withdrew.

It was a very small satisfaction, Loki thought, when the door closed behind Rogers and he was left alone. And now he really was alone, of course-- he could hardly go roaming about the house, after all, not with the Avengers in residence. They had given no sign of wishing to harm or restrain him, but he had no desire to display himself to their regard, to their judgment. He was effectively no longer free to move about the house, and the knowledge was wearying. This most recent captivity was a great deal more comfortable than any he had previously endured, but as his strength returned he found himself reaching the end of his patience with captivity.

Not, of course, that he had any desire to provoke the Avengers into resorting to a more stringent form of restraint.

The words of the story danced unseen before his eyes, though-- a ruse so long practiced that it had become automatic-- he continued to pretend to track the print and to turn pages at appropriate intervals. He was almost entirely master of himself once again-- as well as any prisoner could call himself master of anything, even his own mind-- when the next knock came at the door.

"Loki?" Annie called. "Can we come in for a minute? We need to talk to you."

Puzzled, but not entirely displeased, Loki set down Men At Arms and walked over to open the door. Annie, George, and Nina immediately slipped inside, followed by the dog and the two little cats. George closed the door behind them, and-- not much to Loki's surprise-- the visitors went over to sit on the bed.

"Yes?" Loki prompted, looking at the three anxious faces. Prompted by some ridiculous urge, he moved his-- the-- comfortable chair so as to face the others, then sat down and waited for their explanation. One of the little cats, the mostly-black one, took this as an invitation to insinuate herself into his lap, and he chose to permit this.

Annie spoke, words tumbling over each other:

"Loki, we need your help. The Avengers don't want to ask you, and we all understand why-- you don't really have any reason to care about them, or this, this realm, and you've certainly been through enough. Only-- Tony's going to try and track down Dr. Doom, but as good as his technology is, this really is a job for magic. And it sounds like they've lost touch with Dr. Strange, who I think is the only other sorcerer besides our Loki who routinely works with SHIELD."

"Perhaps your friends the witches would be willing to assist," Loki suggested dryly. "They have been remarkably accommodating so far."

And then he was sorry, when both Annie and George winced and fell silent. Nina, however, glanced at the others in confusion and then took up the thread.

"You know what Doom's magic feels like," she pointed out. "That's why you could remove it from the security guards. Annie and George think that makes you the best person to find his hideout." The mortal's round little face was solemn as she added, "I know this is a lot to ask, and you don't owe Earth anything-- " Loki kept his expression neutral and did not look directly at Annie or George as Nina went on, "-- but we could really use your help."

Loki inclined his head as he pretended to consider the request. It might have been the purest manipulation, to refrain from mentioning the very real debt Loki owed not only to a realm he had tried to conquer-- granted, not in this reality, but the point remained-- but also, and more personally, to Annie and George.

Might have been, but the damnable thing was, the pair were transparently honest, and he could sense no desire in them to use their prior kindness to their own advantage. And Nina, whatever her tendencies would have been, quite obviously did not know how desperate Loki's straits had been when he arrived in the little household.

It briefly crossed his mind to wonder whether anything would have been different if the royal family of Asgard had made less of a meal of his obligations ("we are your parents") and his place in their efforts to regain control of him. If the crown prince's requests for help had felt less like demands for that to which he was entitled.

"You ask my assistance?" he asked, just to make sure everything was clear between them.

"Yes," George said quickly, and Annie added, "Please."

The word nearly soured everything-- for a moment he had a nightmare flash of the Other gazing down at a broken prisoner who was not Loki-- but he retained control over himself.

"Very well," he replied. "You have it."

~oOo~

The Doombots had had to be disassembled when Doom moved to his new accommodations. Work on them occupied his attention so completely he quite forgot about his worthless supposed allies. Well, not forgot, exactly. He fully intended to have words with Wyndham, about controlling both his servant and his own predatory impulses. Becoming ruler of a people did not mean they were cattle for consumption. Evidently, that needed to be made clear to the vampires, when Doom had time to address the problem.

He was rather taken by surprise, therefore, when Wyndham himself walked uninvited into his laboratory.

"I would speak to you," the vampire announced, without preamble. Doom turned toward him, movements measured and bearing still. A human-- even one of the accursed Avengers-- would have taken warning from his posture. Wyndham, for his part, merely inclined his head and narrowed his eyes. "Our... partnership... has not been a particularly fruitful one thus far." The creature's voice rose as he went on, "We vampires are not your lackeys, to be baulked of our rightful prey because of a spasm of sentimentality on your part-- "

"Those I would rule are not merely your prey-- " Doom began, in an awful tone.

Wyndham laughed at him. "Those you would rule? A certain number of the humans will be left to serve you, it is true, but for the majority, a select number will be recruited and the rest serve as fodder for their betters. Do not pretend to have been ignorant of our intentions-- you know what we are, and what to expect. The lion may lie down with the lamb, but only one of them is likely to get up again." A sneer lifting the corner of his mouth, Wyndham added, "And what rewards will your sorcerer expect, once he is brought to heel?"

"What he expects will be the least of my concerns," Doom replied, magisterially. As will be your wishes.

Wyndham uttered a sharp bark of laughter. "Perhaps it should be given a little more thought."

The vampire walked out of the laboratory, closing the door quietly behind him, and leaving Doom deep in thought.

~oOo~

The Midgardian saying concerning the non-boiling properties of a watched pot was equally applicable to a watched electric kettle, but eventually Loki was able to brew himself a mug of acceptably strong, sweet tea. He carried it into the lounge and sat down on the sofa, then turned to Clint, seated in the comfortable chair Thor always occupied when he visited.

"I really am terribly sorry about... all that," he said, gesturing vaguely upward.

"What, you mean trying to brain me with-- what was that, anyway? A paddle?" Clint replied.

"A cricket bat," Loki murmured into his mug.

"Of course it was," Clint said. "Seriously, what the hell was that all about?"

Loki squirmed. "I... I do not remember. No, really, I do not remember very much about-- " he frowned. "How long was I... away?"

Clint looked startled. "You mean you don't know?"

"That is what I said," Loki scowled.

"Two days. And you don't remember much about it?" Clint demanded.

"My magic was bound," Loki began, and then broke off to drink deeply of his tea.

"So you were, like, mostly out of your mind," Clint said bluntly, apparently remembering their conversation in the aircraft. Loki shrugged. Clint's eyes narrowed. "So did some alternate-universe Clint Barton have anything to do with it?" Loki wriggled uncomfortably. "That's a yes, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Loki agreed. "I... when I saw you, I was suddenly angry and afraid, and I thought, I thought the other Agent Barton had followed me and... and..."

Clint sighed. "Look, man, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. What do you say we order a pizza and try to fill in a few blanks here?"

Suddenly aware of exactly how empty his stomach was, Loki nodded. "Would you care for a cup of tea while we wait?" he offered.

Clint grinned. "Thanks, man, but the only drink that has magical properties for my people is beer."

Loki smiled tentatively back. "I believe we have some in the refrigerator."

"Good. Now, what's a good place to call?"

Loki had time for another cup of tea before the pizza arrived, and then the two sat in the lounge to eat it and drink beer. To Loki's relief, Clint did not press him for any more recollections. In fact, for the moment, the archer seemed far more interested in unburdening himself concerning his time at the school.

"I mean, it could have been worse of course-- nobody was trying to kill me or anything-- but I did get sick of their judgey little faces. You could just hear them thinking, 'Loki would do that better' and 'Loki would know that' and 'when's Loki coming back?' Little monsters."

Loki paused in the act of lifting another slice of pizza from the box. "I hardly think such behaviour counts as 'monstrous,'" he rebuked the archer. Carefully detaching a stretchy string of cheese from his slice, he added thoughtfully, "And should they have wished, I am quite sure something far more definitive could have been arranged for you."

Clint shuddered. "Yeah, no kidding. I tell you, it was like a couple of missions I've been on in the jungle-- the same feeling of being watched, and knowing there was something carnivorous hiding behind every frigging bush, waiting for me to drop my guard."

"That must have been terrifying," Loki commiserated, through a mouthful of pepperoni and crust. Hastily chewing and swallowing, he then asked, "What I do not fully understand is, why were you at my school? I am sure Carol was pleased to have your assistance-- "

"Oh, she was pretty anxious for you to come back, too," Clint grumped, then reluctantly admitted, "although she was perfectly nice to me."

"-- But SHIELD has never replaced me when I missed time on their business before this. And sending an agent of your rank to fill the role of a school caretaker seems excessive." He realized he was ripping bits from the crust of his slice of pizza, and forced his hands to be still. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Clint said quickly. "But we got worried that it might. For one thing-- did anyone explain to you that Dr. Doom was behind you and the other Loki trading places?" Loki shook his head. "Well, he was. And, according to one of Mitchell's old vampire pals, he's working with a gang of vampire overlords, or something like that. They're apparently trying to take over the world, and Mitchell's contact figures they want to kidnap the other Loki and try to force him to work for them."

"Would he need to be forced?" Loki asked, picking at the label on his beer bottle and somehow finding himself with little appetite.

"Annie seems to think so," Clint said mildly. "Anyway, they showed up here the other night, probably planning to grab Loki-- don't worry, the rhino charm kicked their asses. Annie, George, Loki and George's girlfriend went up to Scotland for safety's sake and SHIELD thought there should be someone on the school, too. Just in case the vampires do anything stupid."

"Thank you," Loki said. "And-- has there been any evidence of vampire activity?"

Clint squirmed a little. "Well, yes, but not the way I expected." Loki lifted an interrogative eyebrow, and a moment later Clint was unburdening himself regarding his adventures with Daisy, Geoff, and the inanimate Ivan.

When he finished, Loki-- who had in the meantime finished his first beer and started another-- asked,

"And what do you intend to do next?" When Clint remained silent, Loki prompted him: "You told them you intended to learn about magic. Did you have a plan?"

Clint drained his beer and detached another slice of pizza. One did not have to be the so-called God of Mischief to know he was stalling.

"Clint?" Loki insisted, although he was beginning to sense where this conversation was going.

"Look, man, I really am sorry," Clint blurted, and confirmed Loki's growing suspicions, "I wouldn't ask this of you if I could think of another-- the thing is, I don't have a plan, except maybe to try and get hold of Strange and ask him-- I mean, I'm pretty sure he's tangled with Doom before now."

"Do you know what his feelings are concerning vampires?" Loki got to the heart of the matter. Because if Strange felt compelled to do something about the Bristol vampires... well, Mitchell was not really part of their community any longer, but Loki knew his friend did not want anything terrible to befall them.

And besides... this was his city, not Strange's.

And therefore his responsibility, and not Strange's.

For a moment, Loki indulged himself in the wish-- the longing-- to go to Scotland with Annie, George, and Nina. And then--

"I think," he said, as calmly as he could, "it would be best if I remained here and assisted you."

"That would be awesome," Clint replied, with every appearance of gratitude. Awkwardly, he added, "Here, you can have the last piece of pizza."

Manners suggested Loki should demur and offer the slice to Clint in return.

"Thank you," he said instead, and helped himself to the pizza.