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Chapter Text

Chaos Theory

“Thor," Nick Fury stated. "Everything went to hell when that blond Asgardian showed up in America’s backyard and his prick of a little brother followed. They didn’t think about how their appearance would upend the general public’s psyche and send the world into hysteria. They just wanted to beat the shit out of each other. Earth just happened to be where they landed. Why couldn't it have been some other planet?

"You told me nothing would ever be the same. We were all thinking it. You were just the one who said it out loud. The governments of the world have known of the existence of aliens for thousands of years. The pharaohs even drew pretty pictures of them on their walls." Fury lectured with a sweep of his hand against the blank wall of the SHIELD medical ward. "The Powers That Be have called it "science fiction."  They poo-pooed the Nordics their ancient history and made the Egyptian hieroglyphs nothing more than scintillating mystery.  We’ve managed to dupe the population for centuries. I think it was better that way. I know you do too," he nodded, eyeing the man laying on the hospital bed.

"You should see it now, Coulson.  Everyone’s lost their muthafuckin' minds. Cults have sprung up like weeds in the summer.  Suicide has become a pandemic, and you can find a raving evangelist on every traffic island spouting the end is here. Nobody can really tell them anything different with real assurance.

"And they all say its epicenter is Tony Stark’s Tower in the heart of New York City.

"You know I never liked Howard’s kid. Never bought into his bullshit. You convinced me we needed him and told me I didn’t have to like him. I admit, I respect what he did a few months ago during the battle with the Chitauri.  He surprised a lot of people.  Surprised me.  Did he surprise you?" he asked, waiting for an answer that didn't come.

"I don’t envy Stark the backlash that has followed. There are assassination plots against him everyday, attempts every week. They’re calling him the antichrist. I maintain he’s just a cocky asshat with too much intelligence an overabundance of swagger."

Fury paced the room, hands clasped behind his back.

"Going through that portal changed him, made him nervous, more reclusive than he was before the Battle of New York. I'll let you dig your teeth into that. Just leave the psych report on my desk," he said with a wry smile.

"You’ll be glad to know that we’ve managed to stop anyone from popping off any rounds in his lily white ass," he said. "There have been days when I ask myself why I’m defending the class clown, but I think between Stark and Rogers and the influence they have with the others, this Avengers Initiative just might work out.  I trust him about as much as he trusts me, but we gotta make it work, as you say.

"This codependency thing very well may be the death of me." Fury exhaled loudly and stood at the end of the hospital bed, leaning his forearms on the footboard. "Don't think you're getting out of this. You are still assigned as the Avengers' handler.  So wake the fuck up," he demanded.

Fury stared at Phil Coulson, memories of battles won and lost with the man at his back. “I'm not buying into this whole coma bullshit anymore. Doc says he sewed you up, put you back together, you should be awake right now. But you're not.  So whatever magic mumbo jumbo is making your eyes glow in the dark like some freaky cosmic night light, tell it to fuck off. I need my one good eye back."

~*~

Twenty nine days, thirteen hours, eleven minutes and thirty four seconds since Pepper walked into Tony’s lab and said that she just couldn't do it anymore, that she wasn't strong enough to watch him risk his life over and over and have a relationship too.

He should have known the end was coming. But Tony chose to ignore the strained silences, the increased amount of business trips and Pepper more often than not curling up on the sofa instead of sleeping in their empty bed.  

The hurt look on her face nearly ripped Tony to shreds. Worse was the fact that he put it there. Tony usually ended up disappointing everyone who cared about him eventually. So he guessed it really came as no surprise that Pepper bailed.

Tony got the 'let's still be friends speech.' Wasn't that awkward?

Pepper also stammered out a hasty, "If he wanted her to resign from Stark Industries, she'd understand." The thought of removing her completely from Tony’s life scared the shit out of him. He could not reassure her fast enough that there was no way in hell that he'd ever let her resign. She'd signed contracts and everything. Plus a lawsuit would make everyone uncomfortable. She even laughed a little at that line.

Hell, Pepper was a better CEO than Tony could ever be. He was made for PR stunts and was way more comfortable working in research and development. At least that way, Tony could keep his own hours.

Then she somewhat tearfully announced that she'd be moving her things out of the large penthouse suite they shared. With one final hug, she was gone. Tony didn't bother to follow her out. He simply cranked up some Black Sabbath and lost himself in some modifications on the suit which had been badly damaged in the attack on New York.

Now, Tony spent his days in his workshop, making sure they would all be protected. Exhaustion was his constant companion as he created. Most of the time, Tony didn’t even know what day it was.

After endless cups of coffee and almost scorching himself for the third time on the acetylene torch, Tony decided to give up for the night. Well really after JARVIS threatened to let Dummy get the fire extinguisher.

Tony could not bear the thought of going back to what was once their rooms and their bed, which was why at two o'clock in the morning, he was wandering the floors of the currently under-construction Stark Tower. He had a cut crystal glass of Dalmore single malt in his hand and Dummy trailing him with the bottle clutched in his servo claw.

The building was eerily quiet since all the crews had gone home for the weekend. The tower was understandably mostly vacant during the reconstruction, and Tony found the stillness fit his bleak mood. The only other signs of life were the Stark Industries security team that kept the ground levels secure. After the events of the invasion, his tower had become very popular with thrill seekers and fans. It was easy to avoid anyone else, since they were not allowed on his private floors or on the ten R&D levels. He preferred that no one be here, but Pepper insisted on the extra security.

"Jarvis how long before the renovations are complete?" Tony spoke just to break the silence.

"Sir, estimated time, factoring in all the variables, puts the renovation completion at approximately two months," the slightly British sounding AI replied.

Tony sighed and stared at the exposed beams and newly painted walls. The only parts of the building that were finished were his workshops and the penthouse levels. Once completed, the lower floors would house VIP suites, conference rooms, and various R&D divisions of Stark Industries. They would contain projects that would need his direct input. As for the rest? Who the fuck knew.

Pepper called this place a monument to his vanity. It almost became the epicenter for the destruction of the planet.

The billionaire wanted to know who he royally pissed off in a former life. Or perhaps he'd racked up enough bad karma in this one to fuck himself five times over.

Tony absently raised his almost empty glass and smiled when Dummy carefully filled it. He took a moment to pet his sensor array making him chirp happily.

"Good boy," he complimented, because really, Dummy was, despite the fact that the work crew found him creepy.

A few more glasses and Tony was feeling more than a bit fuzzy. He should know better. He could almost feel Rhodey's disapproving frown and hear the lecture Tony knew he'd get if he was here.

Tony really wished he was. Or someone, because being alone and drunk really fucking sucked. Tony didn't have the energy though to go out now. Barely a few years ago, he'd be out partying hard with a socialite on each arm.

Tony hissed in pain as he nearly tripped over some rolls of carpeting stacked against one of the walls. Even months after the battle, his wounds were slow to heal. Bone deep bruises and cracked ribs along with torn muscles made him ache fiercely.

First of all, getting tossed out of a window made of thick safety glass really fucking hurt. That coupled with the beating he’d already taken when the helicarrier was attacked, then the battle in the streets of Manhattan, it was a wonder Tony could even walk at all.

He was sure that facilitated Pepper's decision to leave. The first time she got the full monty of his battered body, tears welled in her eyes. Tony remembered her hand hovering just above the livid welts and contusions, afraid to touch.

She just didn't understand the burning desire he still had to atone for his checkered past, the adrenaline rush Tony got from being in the armor, the ability to be able to actually help people instead of hurt them.

Tony held his glass out again and noticed it remained empty. Dummy chirped distressingly and clutched the now empty bottle.

"Well now. I guess we ought to find another." He pretended not to notice how his words slurred.

"Sir, perhaps that would not be wise. You've eaten nothing all day. You should get some sleep." JARVIS chimed in.

"Damn mother hen." He turned towards the bank of elevators and staggered when a wave of dizziness had him clutching the wall.

Shit. Maybe he ought to lie down. The only place that sounded appealing was the large battered sofa in his workshop.

Tony made his way carefully to the elevators and reached out to hit the button.

It took a few tries because really, how was he supposed to hit it the first time when there were three of them dancing in his vision. Tony leaned against the elevator wall and closed his eyes.

Truly he hadn't been this shitfaced in a while. When the car stopped and the doors opened, it took him a minute to lever himself away from the wall and stagger out the door.

Tony paused at the entry into his lab and squinted at the keypad. This was the one thing that he could do even with his eyes shut. In fact, it was easier that way. A second later and the door whooshed open.

Tony finally felt able to take a deep breath. This was home to him, more so than the penthouse suite or the currently empty mansion on Fifth Avenue. It had been Tony’s parents house, and he never really felt comfortable there.

Tony thought he had a floor in Trump Towers too. He'd bought it just to piss old Don off. Really, the man couldn't stand him, and the feeling was mutual. At least Tony figured he still owned it. he'd have to ask Pepper.  Oh right, like that was going to happen any time soon.

Even more depressed now, sleep seemed like a great idea. Tony flung himself in the general vicinity of the large couch that was shoved against the wall. Wide and overstuffed, it was slightly beat up and a bit stained. Not that he cared. Tony landed face down. Right before he passed out, he felt the fleecy throw from the back being carefully draped over him.

"Thanks buddy." Tony murmured to Dummy then he was out like a light.

~*~

Clint Barton, sometimes known Hawkeye, lay in his bunk staring up at the ceiling of his small room aboard the Helicarrier. He was pretty much confined to quarters until his SHIELD psych eval was complete. The vultures working for SHIELD took a fiendish kind of glee in picking his brain apart. After all, how often did they get a formerly mind-controlled lackey of a god in their evil clutches?

It was different when he was off saving the world. His skills were needed but now? This version of house arrest was going to drive him nuts. Left here with nothing really to do, Clint couldn't help thinking of the things he'd done while under Loki's influence. Oh sure, he told the headshrinkers he didn't remember a thing. But he and Natasha knew better. In fact, it was Nat that told him not to blame himself. Clint didn't think how he could help but blame himself.

And that was the kicker. Agent Phil Coulson, his handler and the first person to believe he was worth the effort, was dead. The man who recruited him when Clint was nothing more than a thief. Phil gave him a reason to try and work within the system.

Clint's eyes narrowed as his head started to pound.

Fucking Loki...what the hell chance did Phil have going up against a bat shit crazy god with delusions of grandeur? A situation that Clint helped facilitate. He knew Natasha had been holding something back when she was sitting in the med bay with him after kicking his ass before the battle of New York. It was something he'd be forever grateful for, because it got that bastard out of his head. Hopefully for good.

Still, it pissed Clint off that no one thought to fucking tell him Phil was dead until after the fight, after Manhattan was in shambles and they wearily made their way to one of the SHIELD detachments. It was then, as they were getting patched up, that Natasha quietly informed Clint what happened, how it happened and how it brought the team together. Well fuck that....it was not worth the life of someone he held dear.

So when the team got dragged by Stark to the obligatory shawarma celebration, he’d been exhausted, in pain, and frozen with grief.

Only Natasha had managed to wring a smile out of Clint on the day they sent Loki home. By whispering in Clint’s ear, in exquisite detail, what she would do to the God if given the chance. After that, the archer had been isolated and picked apart until he wanted to scream.

God, he had to get out of here. His quarters felt too much like a prison. Clint could feel the walls closing in on him. Due to his penchant for late night exploration and his need to find places to be alone, Clint knew the layout of the Helicarrier better than Fury did. That thought made Clint's gut twist. He'd been perfect for Loki's purposes. But that knowledge was invaluable now. Clint knew where most of the cameras were and their blind spots.

So within moments Clint disappeared into the ductwork and then deep into the bowels of the ship. There, he could be alone with his dark thoughts and decide what he wanted to do with his future, since it was unlikely SHIELD would ever trust him again.

~*~

If one more person asked Clint how he felt, he was seriously going to put an arrow in their eye. They felt entitled to his thoughts, just because they had some fancy degree in a dark wood frame hanging on their wall.

How the fuck did they think he felt? Remorseful, helpless, guilty? God, yes. So much guilt and all of the above.

He wondered why bother telling them. He was being grilled by high-security clearance shrink while he lay on an expensive leather sofa in a tastefully decorated office. It was at a non-nondescript location in a SHIELD facility somewhere. Clint had been escorted to this appointment, led right to the door and ushered inside. His current bodyguards waited unobtrusively right outside. Thank god he didn't know these two agents.

It was a scheduled visit right after yet another CT scan of his messed up head.

The only bonus to this situation was he got off the Helicarrier for a while and away from the constant reminder of what he'd done.

Clint didn't want to talk about his feelings, or the nightmares that plagued his restless nights, or when he finally got up the courage to visit the place Phil died. Of how he sat on the floor against the wall with his forehead resting on his drawn up knees, too numb to even howl out his pain. It was his fault Loki even got onto the carrier in the first place, due to his ever so 'helpful' intel.

He should have been there to back Phil up, just like the times his handler had been there for him.

Clint stayed at that spot until found by Natasha. She'd poked and prodded him until he roused. Then she led him back to her quarters and produced three bottles of vodka. There they got sloppily drunk toasting the man that had changed both their lives.

It was a much better send off for Agent Phil Coulson than SHIELD saw fit to give him.

So Clint bullshitted his way through another session with the shrink. He sat up on the couch and watched as the doctor left the room.

His rebellious side surfaced as Clint glanced at the partially open French doors leading to a small balcony.

Fuck this shit, I am out of here, Clint said to himself. He went out onto the small terrace. It didn't matter that it was ten stories up. He simply hopped up onto the railing and quickly surveyed his surroundings. He looked around with a grin. There were a succession of similar balconies all the way down to the second floor.

So without a backward glance Clint swung over the edge and was gone.

~*~

For the first time in weeks Clint felt like he could finally breathe. With every mile, he got further away from all the reminders of the invasion, from all the poking, prodding and incessant questions, from having his mind taken apart from the inside out. Being remade, he called it, in someone else’s image. To not be in control of your actions was worse than rape, in Clint’s opinion. But that’s the definition of rape isn’t it? To not have control. To have someone else’s control forced on you.

He knew it was going to take some time to get his shit together. It wasn’t something he could do under the ever watchful eye of SHIELD.

Clint knew he needed to go where he was just another face. Not an agent, assassin, sniper or fucking hero. He felt as far away from being a hero as you could get. Captain America was the hero, not the former carnie thief turned lap dog for SHIELD. The fact that the Captain trusted him enough to help end the invasion plainly fucking amazed him. That Clint got a clap on the back and a hearty handshake for a job well done afterward. The Captain’s sincere thanks stunned him even more.

But now, he needed a place to settle, to try and lose the fragmented feeling he could not seem to shake, to be able to grieve properly and in his own way without someone telling him what he should do or how he should feel.

Clint had just the place in mind.

It hadn’t been that hard to get away, really. It was easy climb down the balconies to the last one, then a drop to the ground that Clint accomplished with ease. Finally, he got lost in the crowd as he made his way to a vehicle he had stashed for just an occasion.

Clint and Natasha were alike in the respect to have a need for their own bolt holes. Necessary pieces of their lives that had nothing to do with SHIELD. Clint only knew where a few of Natasha’s were located. She preferred it that way.

But the one Clint headed to now was one that Nat knew about and had been to many times. It was a place relatively new to their handler. In fact, Phil had been rather surprised at Clint’s choice of a safe haven.

Phil… God, it still fucking hurt, like a raw wound Clint could not stop poking at.

Clint needed to go to his haven. It was the last place Nat and Phil and he had been happy and relaxed.

~*~

Clint relished the wind in his face as the bike he straddled ate up the miles to his destination. It was a motorcycle that was his alone and not one that SHIELD was aware he owned.  It was used, paid for in cash, and kept stashed in a rented storage space until needed. The bike was slightly beat up looking and well broken in, but impeccably maintained. It got Clint where he needed to go.

Clint didn’t even mind the light drizzle that started to fall as he sped along the highway. Finally at his destination as the day grew dim with the falling dusk, Clint maneuvered the bike down an alley behind the building. He parked it in a dingy shed after unlocking the door with a key from his key ring.

Then he walked to another door in the building itself. He unlocked that one too with yet another key and took the narrow steps upstairs two at a time. He ended up in a hallway that led to a compact apartment.

Clint turned on a lamp and sighed, finally able to relax in the quietness of the small space. It was just a living area and a miniscule kitchenette separated by a breakfast bar. There was also a short hallway leading to a bedroom and another door to a full bath. This space was clean and almost dust-free.

Clint peeled off his leather jacket and hung it by the door to dry. He toed off his boots and left them there too. He went to the sink and opened a cabinet for a glass,  filled it with water, and took a couple of aspirin from a bottle sitting nearby. After that, he walked down the hallway and into the small bedroom. The space was mostly taken up by a queen sized bed and low dresser. He shucked off his jeans and collapsed onto the bed, weary beyond belief and thinking maybe he’d actually be able to get some sleep.

The last thing Clint did was set the alarm on his burner phone for 4 a.m. Then he lay down and let the stillness of the room wash over him.

~*~

In the past, Loki had hopped through the Nine Realms mostly by traveling the Bifrost.  The experience was always thrilling as well as dependable. And, it cost him nothing, since it’s source of power was outside his person.

The opposite of traveling Asgardian's bridge was use of dark-power portals. They were one of Loki's least favorite things in all the nine worlds and beyond. They were damp and smothering and spine-tingling painful. A person came out on the other side covered in hot sweat, disoriented, shivering and weakened.

They also gave him a terrible case of vertigo. He was usually able to counteract the effect with the utterance of a quick spell. But this time, there would be no enchantment. His lips would not move properly to form any spell and his tongue was swollen and useless.  

In place of the muzzle they'd fashioned for him before leaving Midgard, his lips had now been sewn shut with Vartari. It was a poisoned leather binding created by a cruel craftsman to humiliate and cause long-suffering. And it was doing a fine job of it.

The Allfather only added to Loki's misery by commanding Thor be the one to carry out the placement of such a malevolent contraption.  Even Fandral knew Thor was the worst with needle and thread.  It was punishment for both sons, but Loki's sentencing far outweighed the momentary grief that sewing Vartari into Loki's flesh might have caused Thor. Loki cared not for his not-brother's feelings anymore.

He hurt everywhere.  The tremors that wracked his body covered him in sweat. The excreted poison smelled like death. It made his stomach clench. Loki wanted to flee like a wounded animal caught in a trap on the verge of hysteria but he could hardly move, much less run.

At least he was no longer in the bowels of Asgard, no longer a prisoner kept by the Allfather for sins against humanity. He was no longer awaiting trial in a gloomy cell for punishment for the slaughter of countless Jotuns before he fell into the Void.

Before the Chitauri.

Before Thanos.

Before his scheme to discredit Thor and keep him off the throne of Asgard.

That seemed like an entire lifetime ago. Or maybe it was the poison distorting time in his mind.

"Brother, look at me.”

Loki opened his eyes to find Thor leaning over him. He looked terrible, worried even.  He was speaking to Loki but he didn't really care to give Thor any attention, not when the world outside his mind was such a very painful place to be.

“I will get help.  Wait for me, Loki. Do not slip away to Hel's embrace.”

Hel, Loki's beautiful daughter. Even she wouldn't have him. Don't give in, Father. That's what she told him in his dreams. What he heard was her refusal to accept him and end his suffering.

He rolled away from Thor onto his side and cursed the room for spinning wildly. When the world righted itself again, he wondered who was it that used such dark magic to transport them both out of Asgard. There were only a few who knew how to use it, Thor certainly not being one of them. The Allfather wouldn't sentence Loki's punishment and then release him.

He didn't even know where he was. He wanted to ask, but the poison made it hard to think. He still could not communicate properly. So he rested on the cold surface and closed his eyes, focused on breathing. There was little more he could do.

Thor's chest ached. It was too familiar a sensation. He'd felt it when he thought Loki died in the void of the cosmos. Staring down at his brother now, after coming through the dark-magic portal, he felt the same fear of loss. Loki needed help.

And so Thor asked the executor of their escape to be sent to the one place he hoped he'd find it on Midgard. His mind was set on Jane Foster's home.

Unfortunately, this was not her home. He recognized it immediately and wondered the wisdom or folly of arriving at Stark's Tower instead.

He spoke to Loki, smoothing the wet ropes of hair away from his swollen and sickly eyes. They were bloodshot and glassy, and Thor knew not what Loki's vision revealed.  Thor had felt the effects that very poison that oozed from the leather binding he'd placed in his brother's lips months ago. It seeped into his skin through his fingers when he himself had placed it into Loki's mouth, the very same mouth that had begged him for mercy, begged him to hear him out, begged him not to silence him, not until he'd had his say.

Thor had done it anyway, as was the will of the Allfather. The poison had cleared Thor's system in a day, with the help of the healers and some rest in his comfortable bed with the soothing touch of his mother. Whereas for Loki, his punishment had gone on for what must seem an eternity, agonizing in a miserable cell without any comforts known to a Prince of Asgard.

Mere months ago, they'd been happy together. Loki had stood by his side before Thor's coronation to become King, the coronation that never happened. Loki had said, "Sometimes I am envious, but never doubt that I love you."

And that's what Thor clung to. He had to believe those words weren't a lie. But nothing was as it should be. His brother betrayed him, manipulated him into starting a war with the Jotuns, told him the Allfather was dead, and then chose to die instead of face the consequences of his actions.

And when Loki didn't die, when he'd fallen into the clutches of an alien race unknown to even the Allfather, Loki must have undergone unimaginable trauma. The brother he'd faced on Midgard was not the brother he knew at all.

"Master Jarvis?" Thor inquired, pushing the code he'd been given to enter Stark Tower. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes. I must inform you that the Tower has been alerted to your arrival, being that you've brought with you a mortal enemy to the planet itself."

"I understand," Thor answered. He walked into the large elevator, hanging his head low as the doors hissed closed. "He is no threat to you or anyone at the moment."

"I must advise you that Loki appears to be in Ms. Romanoff's parking space. I believe she would not hesitate to park her vehicle there, regardless of the body currently occupying most of the lane."

Thor's stomach rolled, perhaps from the effects of the portal, perhaps from the stress of his escape, more likely from his mad plan to ask Loki's most recent enemy for sanctuary. That, and his brother lying helpless and exposed and likely dying at any moment. "Take me to Tony Stark."

The elevator doors parted and Thor was greeted by early morning sunlight streaming through the ceiling to floor windows of Tony's penthouse suite.

He'd been there thrice before. The first time was after Loki had nearly destroyed the top floors with the Tesseract and Chitauri. Loki's misplaced anger nearly resulted in Tony Stark's death. He'd come to Stark's steel castle twice again afterwards for conferences regarding his brother's transference back to Asgard. He knew the lay out well enough to recognize the living quarters when he stepped out of the elevator.

"Tony Stark, I come to seek audience with you on a very serious matter." Thor strode into the center of the room, his head swiveling and ears listening for a response.

After a short time, Jarvis stated, "Sir is not responding. If you wish to speak to him, you will find him in his workshop."

"Then why am I here if the Man of Iron is not?" But Thor understood well enough. It was good practice to delay any ambassador of a warring people seeking audience with the master of the house. Allowing them immediate access was unheard of, especially when preparing for a possible attack. Thor thought better of Jarvis and spoke sincerely, "Please know, I mean him no harm."

"Understood. You would gain no access here if my protocols listed you as such," Jarvis placated. "However, I believe it is necessary for you to wake sir yourself."

Thor frowned. "He not responding to your herald?"

"No, he is not."

Had Thor not been so desperate, he'd have detected a bit of annoyance from the artificial intelligence. "Is he unwell?"

"He is just… sir."

Thor entered the elevator again and hoped Jarvis would, this time, deliver him to the proper place. "Jarvis. Do your omniscient eyes see my brother?"

"Yes. He has not moved since you left him."

Thor's eyes closed in both relief and concern. "Is he still breathing?"

"Yes. Though it appears it is a struggle."

"I must hurry."

Thor exited the elevator with enthusiasm. "Where?"

"To the left down the hall. Approach the door on your right and I will grant your access."

Thor followed the instructions and found Tony Stark on a couch in a room full of mechanical beings, some of whom hovered around him. One in particular stood between them.

He attempted to reach out to Stark to shake the man awake, but the robot wouldn't allow it. An electrical current arched between its only arm and Thor's hand.

Thor laughed. "You forget yourself if you mean to harm me, little one. Electricity is also one of my weapons. You'd do better to douse me with water, though it will get you no further than my annoyance."

Still, Thor acknowledged the robot's warning. This was not his home, nor his servants. And although Thor found it odd, he still had enough manners to respect one's odd culture and one's most loyal subjects.

It was then that he could smell the strong odor of alcohol and understood the situation. Being practically raised from boy to man by Volstagg, he could recognize drunken sleep when he saw and smelled it.

This did not bode well for his purpose. Or perhaps it did. All he needed was a safe spot for Loki to rest while Thor found the right weapon to release the poison binding. Then they could be off.

He really was turning into a scoundrel. But, he was a scoundrel who was running out of time.

"Tony Stark," he said boldly, and so very loudly as only Thor, The God of Thunder could.

To say Tony didn't dream would have been an outright lie. That he didn't expect to replay the pivotal events in his life would have been another. Or at least the major fuck ups. The cave in Afghanistan, Stane pulling out his fucking heart or the blackness of the void that he ferried a nuke into all made his nightly exercises in sleep a real joy. Alcohol tended to make them worse more often than not.

Tony would have thought going from passed out drunk to violently awake and air-born to be impossible. He proved that also to be a lie after he found myself lying on the floor near the couch gasping for air in total panic mode trying to get his galloping heart to slow the fuck down.

"Jarvis! Intruder alert! What the fuck? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I mean seriously, total heart failure immanent here!" Tony grasped his chest and tried to take in a deep breath. He didn't need a panic attack…really didn't.

Laying on the floor, his head pounding and having The God of Thunder bellowing at him was not exactly a good morning. Was it morning anyway?

Tony blinked blearily up at Thor and frowned when a clawed arm obscured his vision. He focused on the item Dummy was holding. It was the box Pepper had given Tony containing his first arc reactor. She'd had it repaired and during the move to New York and Dummy refused to leave it behind. He could not have pried it out of his servo arm even if he tried. Some misguided notion that the billionaire might need it again. Proof that Tony Stark had a heart indeed.

Obviously, Dummy figured he was in dire circumstances. Truly, as much as Tony yelled at him, Dummy never failed to amaze.

"It's okay, Dummy. I'm fine. Well, hung over but fine." He then looked at the Asgardian standing over him. "Thor, what the hell? Why are you here? Now? With me? You have some weird fetish with watching me sleep?"

Thor wanted to laugh but he didn't. Stark and Volstagg had much in common, such as how they woke from their slumber, although Tony hadn't tried to lop his head off with an axe. At least not yet.

"Forgive my rather abrupt intrusion, but it was necessary," Thor said. He reached down and clasped Tony's forearm with his hand and righted the man as best he could. "I am here on an urgent matter in which I require your assistance."

"Pardon me," Jarvis interrupted, "but I wanted to warn you that Ms. Romanoff is ten blocks away. Given her lead foot, you should return to the parking garage and retrieve your... baggage… from her spot."

"Lead foot?" Thor questioned the ceiling, as if Jarvis were up there.

"That is to say, she is rather heavy on the gas pedal and will be here quickly."

"I understand." Thor nodded and focused all his attention on Tony. Stalking forward step by step as he spoke. "Tony Stark. My father, Odin, and his father before him have protected this planet for millennia, as have I, even most recently as we fought together. I would not purposely bring ruin upon your people. Please remember this when I beseech you, by the legacy of my kin, please give myself and my brother, Loki, sanctuary here at your Tower of metal and glass."

And that is when Dummy tossed a plastic Captain America cup full of water in Thor's face.

Okay. There was no way Tony could have heard that correctly. Pepper was right. He finally managed to pickle his brains. To test that theory, he quickly ran through some quantum mechanics equations. Yup. All still there. No brain damage yet.

Tony ran his hands through his hair, grimacing at the oily texture. He was sure he now resembled a particularly untidy haystack. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He counted to ten and opened them. Yup, Thor was still there with his hair and beard dripping wet.

Thor wiped his face with the palm of his hand and scowled at Dummy. He had been kidding before when he gave the machine the playful idea. But he didn't have time for censure, not when Loki's life may be hanging in the balance.

Tony blinked slowly and shook his head. How was this his life? The Gods were very cruel indeed. Seriously, Loki? The last thing Tony needed was the God of Thunder pissed at him for denying him sanctuary. He seemed to have a blind spot a mile wide for his 'adopted' brother. The billionaire was so getting that story later too.

Tony had to admit to being curious though. It was a terrible failing he had and one that almost got him killed more times than he could count.

And Natasha on her way here? Oh that was one shit storm he really didn't need. She'd stab first and ask questions later. And damn, there they were, the puppy eyes from the God of Thunder.

"Thor, what the fuck? Most of the time my guests don't dump potentially dangerous, homicidal maniacs on me before breakfast. Don't look at me like that."  A labored sigh, a skipped heartbeat, and the resignation. "Fine. Get him. I can't believe you left him alone to cause more trouble. Just take him into the elevator and up to the top floor. The penthouse suite. Jarvis will show you the way."

Tony paced nervously. "Jarvis see if you can stall the fierce, redheaded, and deadly agent on her way. I don't care how you do it. Change the codes on the parking garage entrance or something. Fuck, I need another drink."

Tony scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a deep breath. He was going to get into so much trouble over this. "Dummy - aspirin, four of them and my favorite hangover remedy. I'm going to need it."

Thor almost didn't believe his ears when Tony told him to retrieve Loki and bring him into the Tower's royal suite.

"You are most gracious, my friend." He patted Tony on the back enthusiastically, nearly toppling the little human over. "Your generosity will not be forgotten."

He pointed at Dummy, "nor yours," he said with a mock scowl.

He turned to rush down the hall, a small smile of triumph curving his mouth upward, when his legs gave out. He hit the ground hard on all fours. The dark portal. Thor remembered Loki once telling him to expect odd effects shortly after using it's energy. Surely that was the reason for this embarrassing predicament. If only the room would cease spinning, he'd find his way upright again and retrieve his brother so they could rest.

Tony grabbed the hastily concocted hangover remedy and downed it with the aspirin Dummy also handed him. He only hoped the bot made it right this time. He looked up from drinking the green sludge to see Thor collapse halfway down the hallway. Shit.

Tony set the cup on a work table and hurried to his side. Now that he took a closer look the big guy did not seem to be doing so well. Were Asgardians supposed to be so pale?

Tony bent down and got his arms around, well partially around him and tried to hoist Thor to his feet. Okay. That was not going to happen.

"Come on hunky, we got to get you up and moving. Natasha remember? I'm sure she's trying to break in right now with her secret ninja skills. Dummy, a little help here?"

Between the two of them, they managed to get the Thunder God standing, mostly.

"Thank you," Thor thought he mumbled, but it came out like a drooling slur. His reaction to the portal seemed oddly delayed. He felt mostly normal until seconds ago.

Once upright, he tried not to lean so heavily upon Stark. He knew his weight was too much for a human to manage. Even Loki would be impossible for Stark. No, Thor had to do this. He had to retrieve Loki himself and get him to safety.

"My brother, he is not able to help himself to any bed chamber right now. He needs my help to do this. I do not wish to burden you any more than I already have." Thor tried to explain their predicament as succinctly as possible without giving away Loki's utter vulnerability. He trusted Stark enough to ask for sanctuary, but now that he had it, could he trust Stark not to harm Loki? Asking bluntly would surely offend.

He pushed away from Tony and the mechanical servant and walked along the hallway, using the wall to maintain his balance. The vertigo was ebbing somewhat. He reached the vertical lift, dreading its ride down into the depths of the Tower. Because no one could vomit like a son of Odin.

Did you ever wish you could just back up and start the day over? How about the entire year? Did I really know what I was getting myself into? Tony wondered. He had the feeling this was going to be a cluster fuck of epic proportions.

When Thor pushed away from him and staggered his way to the elevators, the god of thunder had gotten some color back on his pale face, although Tony was not sure green suited him at all.

Tony’s mind was still running around in circles like a hamster trapped in a wheel. It was fairly shouting at him in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Fury's. Mostly, it was saying, "What the fuck are you doing, Stark?"

He’d been told he had horrible impulse control. This just proved it in spades.

Tony didn't know Thor very well, and frankly, he came off most of the time as a pompous ass. But he did save this planet, almost at the expense of his own life, fought and bled alongside them. How could Tony deny him what he asked when he looked so broken?

But his brother, the one responsible for this whole mess? The city was still digging itself out from under the invasions aftermath.

Tony wanted answers as to why Loki did it, but he had to make it clear to Thor that he would be responsible for controlling his crazy-ass sibling. Tony would hide them here, but there had to be a few ground rules, and maintaining control over Loki had to be paramount.

And God forbid the rest of the team found out. They'd kill him, Tony surmised. Actually, the person he wanted here the most was Bruce. At least with the Hulk, Tony would not have to worry about Loki stabbing him in the back. On the other hand, the massive property damage if the Hulk decided to have another 'chat' with Loki was frankly more than he wanted to contemplate.

There was still a Loki shaped hole in the living area of his suite. It hadn't been repaired yet, though the window he tossed him through was replaced, this time with a reinforced polymer compound of Tony’s own design. So no worries there. He'd bounce off and not crash through if someone decided he needed unassisted flying lessons again.

Okay, focus Stark. Get to the penthouse, find out what the fuck was going on, and figure out what to do next.

~*~

Steve hated being cooped up. For weeks, he was limited to SHIELD headquarters and their efforts to bring him fully into the twenty-first century. He felt like he was going stir crazy. Steve needed to get out, to view the city himself, make his own assessments and once more try and get comfortable in the world he had to live in.

Now, after the battle for New York, he was given that chance. But walking the city, taking the subway, familiarizing himself with this age all added to his morose mood. Steve had nothing but time now to reflect and to brood.

Not feeling like having an escort today, he fairly easily ditched his SHIELD watchdogs. It wasn't difficult and a lot of the time they underestimated him. One does not carry out dozens of missions in enemy territory without learning a few tricks along the way.

Steve stopped at a little corner diner he’d discovered in Brooklyn called The Paris Cafe. They served honest to god meatloaf and mashed potatoes on a white china plate and coffee in a heavy ceramic mug with real cream.

Wearing his leather bomber jacket, jeans, and a long sleeved t-shirt, Steve was hardly ever recognized, especially with a ball cap pulled low on his forehead. He was left to eat in peace and think.

How could anyone look at the destruction after the Chitauri attack and not want to do something to help? Steve had all this power to help, yet SHIELD wanted to keep him away from the public eye. The Captain felt like he needed to do whatever he could. Anyone who said he only followed orders obviously didn't know the Howling Commandos very well. The first couple of times Steve slipped away and ended up drawing a crowd or on the news SHIELD was not happy.

If Steve being out there gave the people some hope then no one was going to stop him. He was not a glory hound by any stretch of the imagination, but he wanted to feel useful.

Besides, Steve had very little faith in SHIELD at the moment. He’d been lied to repeatedly and felt that was an abuse of their power. There was one thing the Captain abhorred, and that was a bully.

He’d put up with their poking and prodding and tests for weeks after he woke up. Plus that whole fiasco with the fake apartment was not the way to gain his trust. Did they think he was stupid? Sure everything was different. Louder, brighter, and most of the time confusing. But he was managing, almost.

Technically, Steve was still in the military. He'd gotten wind that they'd tried to stake their claim on him like he was a possession and not a person. Director Fury made it very clear that the only reason the soldier wasn't in an army base lab somewhere was because of his intervention. Supposedly, some general named Ross was eager to get his hands on him but even Fury didn't want that.

Steve was dependent on SHIELD for everything, including the apartment they got him in an older building in Midtown. He guessed it was intended to make him more comfortable in his current surroundings. Steve just found it depressing. Added to that, SHIELD supplied a dossier with the information on his former associates. Everyone was deceased, except for Peggy. It was a fact that the soldier really wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Was he supposed to go see her? Steve just wasn’t ready for that. To Peggy, he'd been gone for decades. For Steve it had only been a few months.

No matter where Steve went, he had at least two SHIELD agents following him. It was degrading and even if they were discreet he still knew they were there.

Steve also wondered where the team he'd been a part of during the attack ended up. The soldier rarely saw Agent Romanoff. He never saw Agent Barton, though he heard Clint was getting put through the ringer like he’d been when he'd first awakened.

Apparently, SHIELD was not so trusting to believe the archer was totally free of Loki's influence. Thor had taken Loki in chains back to Asgard, and that was hard to swallow - other realms, demi gods, and creatures from outer space. It was all like some bad sci-fi serial.

Dr. Banner left with Tony that day in the park, off to parts unknown. Then there was Tony, the son of a man Steve had known, respected even in some ways. He guessed time changed people, some not for the better, judging by the way Tony bristled whenever he mentioned Howard.

But Steve would like to think they’d at least settled a few of their differences during the attack. Afterward, eating shawarma in that ridiculous little hole in the wall restaurant amidst the destruction, Tony had extended an invitation to visit if Steve was in the neighborhood. He was not entirely sure the billionaire was serious. Tony still looked more than a bit concussed.

They’d all been hurt during the fight. Some of them more than others. The blast Steve took  to his side was messy and bloody and would have incapacitated a lesser man. But due to the serum, he healed quickly. Sometimes, his modifications were a blessing and sometimes a curse.

The death of Agent Coulson hit the soldier hard. He'd been someone Steve could call friend. He had been there when SHIELD was doing its best to treat him like some kind of lab rat. The agent kept him from strangling Fury or one of the scientists on more than one occasion. It was Coulson’s sacrifice that brought them all together that day. The sight of those bloody cards had been heart-wrenching. He was a genuine fan, and Steve had done his best not to let him down.

There should have been some kind of memorial service to honor the real hero of that battle. But Fury insisted that Agent Coulson would not have wanted that. He was quietly cremated and his ashes sent back to his family.

Now after everything was said and done, the super soldier felt so adrift. What now?

After he ate and paid his bill, Steve got on the subway and looked out the dingy window at the city around him. The soldier rode for a while. When tiring of that, he got off at the next stop. Steve climbed the stairs out of the station and realized he was only a few blocks from Stark Tower.

Well, Steve guessed he could see if the man was really serious about having him drop by. The soldier felt weird doing so without a direct invitation, but Steve was feeling rather desperate for, if not a friendly face, then a familiar one.

He walked up to the VIP entrance at the back of the building and spotted someone he knew. The red hair and nicely curvy figure was a dead giveaway. Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow, was a formidable fighter with a quick wit and a sharp mind. She reminded Steve, in a lot of ways, of Peggy.

She was standing outside of the secured VIP garage with a fierce scowl on her face that would have sent lesser men running.

She glanced over her shoulder before he was even ten feet away and nodded her head in acknowledgement. Then turned back to the entrance to argue with someone the soldier couldn't see.

"What do you mean Mr. Stark is unavailable? I've tried calling him. And no, I don't want to make an appointment." Agent Romanoff was starting to sound very exasperated. "Are you going to let me in or not?"

"Is there a problem Agent Romanoff?" Steve asked. It didn't occur to him that Tony might not be here.

"Mr. Stark is apparently not seeing any guests at this time." Agent Romanoff replied as she punched in some numbers in a keypad beside the double doors. They didn't appear to work. "What brings you here Captain Rogers?"

"It's just Steve. I was just going to call on Tony to catch up." Steve shrugged awkwardly.

"Director Fury has been trying to get a hold of him for days. Stark industries is handling some of the repairs and tech upgrades for the Helicarrier. Every time Fury tries to contact him, his calls get routed to a '900' number." Her lips quirked upward slightly when she said that.

"A what number?" Steve asked a little confused. This time, Agent Romanoff did smile. It made him a bit uncomfortable.

"A phone sex line," she succinctly stated.

Okay. Steve still didn't quite get it and knew he'd regret asking, but it slipped out before he could stop himself. "Phone sex?"

"You call a certain number, get to talk to a girl who does her best to make you feel good. You know, real good, all the while charging you a fee." Agent Romanoff's explanation was delivered completely monotone, but Steve got the distinct impression she was laughing at him.

"Oh. Um, okay." The soldier colored a bit as he now understood what the term meant. Equally embarrassing was the fact that he had to have a woman explain it to him. Steve was kinda sorry he asked.

Steve was no stranger to sex, especially the bought kind. Not that he ever indulged, but after a mission, the commandos needed to let off some steam, and there were always willing girls, ones that would, for a price, give his team some company for a few hours. How could Steve deny them some simple pleasures to help them wind down when the next mission could be their last?

Bucky hadn't been particularly shy in telling Steve all about his escapades. He'd even tried to drag the Captain to a French brothel for a threesome.

Steve cleared his throat, and his mind, and focused on the situation at hand.

"Fury was not happy when he got the credit card bill," Agent Romanoff said. She sighed as she tried yet another code. "Anyway, apparently Stark is determined to barricade himself inside his little castle. I'm here to make sure he hasn't drank himself to death."

"Does Tony have a problem like that?" Steve asked concerned. He also had trouble thinking of him as Mr. Stark. The Captain always thought of Howard when he said that name. Now that man certainly had a problem with alcohol.

"Occasionally, yes. Along with forgetting to eat and getting so sleep deprived he becomes a danger to himself and everyone around him. He suffers from abysmally poor judgment," she explained. "Excuse me a moment while I call someone."

She stepped away from the door a little and spoke to someone on the phone. Steve thought he heard her mention the name "Pepper," who he recalled was Tony's girlfriend.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ms. Potts. Yes, I'll do that. Not a problem. Thanks," she said before hanging up.

Agent Romanoff stepped to the keypad again and punched in one more code. This time the doors slid open with a hiss.

She turned to look at Steve before walking inside. "Are you coming?"

~*~

Tony ran his hands through his hair again, as if that would help the lingering headache. Shit, he needed a shower, a change of clothes, and some food. Then, maybe he could think clearly.

"Jarvis, make sure Thor gets Loki back upstairs okay? I'll meet them up there."

"Sir, Thor appears still somewhat unwell, but he is now on his way down to the parking garage."

"Location on Miss Romanoff?"

"She is currently entering the back entrance after using Ms. Potts' override code. She also appears to be bringing Captain Rogers inside with her, whom she met outside, coincidentally.

"Fuck. That's all I need." Tony wondered why everyone picked today to show up. This was quickly heading into the realm of epic disastrous proportions. "Jarvis, continue to tell them I'm not in. I'm currently out, somewhere. Better yet, tell 'em I'm dead."

"Sir, I do not think that is wise."

"Ya think?" he said, raking his hand through his hair. "Damn it. Just make them stay away. I don't care how you do it."

~*~

A little bemused, the Captain followed the Black Widow. "How did you get in?"

"Tony didn't think to revoke Pepper's access, despite the fact they broke up. She asked me to check on him too." Agent Romanoff headed for the elevators.

Steve thought it would be pretty tough to break up with your girl, particularly if you had an ego like Stark. He hoped Tony wasn't in too bad a shape.

"Jarvis, be a dear and tell his majesty that we are here?" Agent Romanoff asked sweetly.

"I will do so, Ms. Romanoff, but sir was quite adamant that he have no visitors."

Where is he now?"

"I'm afraid you are not authorized to have that information, Miss Romanoff."

"Fine. We'll do this the hard way. There are two places he's most likely to be: his workshop or the penthouse. Workshop first, since it’s where he likes to spend most of his time." Agent Romanoff entered another code for the elevator and the doors slid open.

Steve followed her in before the doors closed. "Something tells me this isn't a good idea."

~*~

Tony quickly took another elevator up to the penthouse. He hastily looked around and found the area to be immaculately clean. Not surprising really, because he hadn't been up there since Pepper left.

The billionaire paced in the living area waiting for Thor, wondering how much time he had left before the two inconvenient guests Tony left outside managed to get in.

Jarvis' voice jarred Tony out of his incipient panic attack.

"Sir, I regret to inform you that Miss Romanoff and Captain Rogers have entered the building."

"Fuck. Where are they now?" I can't panic, Tony repeated to himself like a mantra.

"They are now in the elevator to your workshop, sir."

"Okay. Kill that elevator. Tell them it’s an electrical malfunction and that you are working on fixing it."

"Sir, I do not believe this will endear you to Miss Romanoff."

"Just do it. Have you've forgotten we have an illegal house guest? They can't find out Loki's here." Tony wanted to tear his hair out in frustration. This was cruel and unusual punishment for him to go through this before coffee.

"How could I forget, sir? Your wish is my command."

Sarcasm, really? Tony didn’t remember teaching Jarvis sarcasm. Tony sat heavily on the edge of the sofa, dropped his head in his hands and waited for the fall out.

~*~

Steve couldn't think of a more uncomfortable situation, riding in the elevator with a beautiful woman who was a formidable fighter and terrifyingly efficient agent of SHIELD. He had nothing to say. Steve raised his hand the back of his neck and rubbed to ease the tension. Agent Romanoff glanced in his direction.

"So how long have you..." Steve started to ask before the car ground to an abrupt halt. The lights dimmed for a second and came back on the elevator refused to move.

Agent Romanoff pressed a few buttons and then frowned. "Jarvis, what's the problem?"

"I'm sorry Miss Romanoff, but there seems to be a slight electrical problem with the elevator. I am attempting to fix it now. I assure you that there is no danger. If you would wait patiently, it will be rectified soon."

Great, what else, Steve thought as he leaned against the elevator wall prepared to wait it out. Agent Romanoff wasn't that willing.

"Jarvis, that is a load of crap. Stark had something to do with this didn't he?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

"I am going to kill him." Agent Romanoff hissed. "You tell Stark to quit acting like a five year old having a tantrum and let me see him."

"I will convey your message." Jarvis replied in monotone.

~*~

As the elevator sped upward, Loki was fading in and out of consciousness. Thor held him upright on weary legs. He longed for a moment's rest and some cool water.

Thor could not imagine the thirst Loki must have been experiencing. He had taken no food or drink since returning home. A lesser god would have died, but this was Loki, a prince of Asgard, a would-be former king. But regardless of his lineage and station, no god lived forever, but Thor was not yet ready to let him go.

He had no delusion that this would be an easy task, nor did he think they'd be able to turn back once this escape began. He despised Loki for what he did to the people of earth, for what he forced upon Thor's allies, but he did not lack compassion for the desperation Loki must have felt after falling away from Asgard.

He wanted to hear Loki out.  They all asked why, even the Allfather, and yet no one allowed Loki to answer to the queries of his crimes and happenings.  This had to be the worst punishment imaginable for Loki, well beyond the poison that turned his blood to think ink.  He would not be heard by anyone while Vartari still prevented communication.

That was Thor's endeavor, to free Loki from the poisonous binding so he could question Loki himself. There was much to answer for. Thor was not so naive to think he could heal the wounds laid open in Loki's mind. He prepared his heart for the worst, that Loki had succumbed to madness in the time spent between leaving Asgard and bringing war to Midgard.  But he wanted to give Loki one last chance to explain.

"Sir is waiting for you, Odinsons."

Loki managed a chuckle at the title.

Thor lifted his head to look him. Loki's skin was too pale. His eyes were sunken and glassy. The bruising around his mouth where the leather darted in and out of his lips was blackened and raw. It pained Thor to see him this way, though Loki would not believe it.

"Remember your manners, brother. Your enemy has been most gracious to us both with his permission to rest here." He saw fear come into his brother's eyes, felt his body tense with a surge of adrenaline. Thor wondered which enemy Loki imagined. There were many, too many.  "I will not leave you to harm. Please, brother, do not waste this opportunity to begin to make amends."

When Thor dragged his brother out of the elevator, he wrinkled his nose. "We stink like bilgesnipe dung and dragon piss. Very uncomely."

He raised his head and saw their host. "Tony Stark, we have arrived."

Tony looked up from his perch on the couch. His eyes widened as he took in earth's public enemy number one. To say Loki looked like hammered shit was a vast understatement. Hell, even after that beat down by the Hulk, Loki hadn't looked so rough.

Thor appeared to be barely supporting his younger brother. They both seemed worn out and on the verge of collapse. Loki hung at Thor's side, his hair a messy tangle around his face, his thin clothing stained and wrinkled.

"Bring him through here, Thor. Lay him on the bed." Tony let Thor go ahead of him, not knowing what to do if case he passed out. The only thing that would lift him would be if the billionaire went and got the suit. That was something Tony was not too keen on doing. They might take it as a threat.

Another little voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Jarvis whispered, what are you thinking? He ignored it just like he tended to do every they piped up. Pepper said it was his conscience. Tony never listened before so why should he now?

Thor drug Loki down the hallway into the bedchamber Stark instructed. It was more difficult to get his brother onto the mattress than he'd admit. Dumping Loki face down revealed Thor's fatigue, but he quickly rolled the slighter prince over. Loki was not pleased but finally, his brother would be able to rest his body.

Loki slowly curled onto his side and shivered violently once. His eyes searched the room, unfocused but wary.

Thor turned his back to his brother and sunk down onto the floor, the bed keeping him upright. Weakness was something Thor strove to hide, but he feared no judgement from Stark. Perhaps it was because they'd survived battle weariness together and thought no less of each other. Perhaps it was because he was too tired to care.

He did wonder about Tony Stark's mechanical servant and wouldn't mind the water to his face at the moment.

Okay, now what? Tony asked himself. One god in his bed and another almost passed out on the floor. Sounded kind of like the plot for a really good porn movie, if you asked him. But all kidding aside, when Tony got a good look at Loki's face, he couldn't help his startled exclamation.

"What the fuck?" Tony stepped closer and felt his stomach rebel.

Loki was pale as death and sweat beaded his face. He shivered as he lay on his side. But the most horrifying part of this whole tableau was the fact that his lips were sewn shut and the skin around the stitches were dark, infected, and weeping.

Tony shuddered. As a victim of torture, he knew the kinds of depravities that could be inflicted upon the human body, but this was… it was...

Before he could stop himself, Tony got in Thor's face. Not a wise move, but leap before you look and all that.

"What the fuck did they do to him? This is just cruel, Thor. Is this Asgard's idea of justice, this kind of torture? Did you know they'd do this?” Caught up in his own flashbacks Tony just got more pissed. "Maybe it would have been kinder to just kill him. Jesus Christ, Thor! Men get put on trial here for inflicting that kind of punishment.”

He felt Stark's words as if he'd been struck down by a fist. It moved Thor to stand and face Stark as an opponent. The anger he felt transferred wrongfully to the Midgardian, as he wanted to both defend his father and admonish him, but Odin was not there.

"I hear accusation and anger behind your every word, Stark. But know this: Crimes are punished in Asgard in a severe manner to discourage such atrocities from ever occurring. I've seen your justice system, and many times, criminals are merely inconvenienced for the harm they've caused others. In Asgard, punishment is swift and harsh, and because of it, most would never entertain the thought of going against righteous laws put forth to serve the Nine Realms and to bring justice to the innocent against their transgressors."

He took a calming breath and turned to study his brother. "I do not know what shattered the inner workings of Loki's mind and made to him act out in this manner. He is angry at me, angry at the Allfather, at Laufey, and at Fate herself. Even so, I too admit that this kind of torture is not just."

He turned to face Stark again. "I have also broken the laws of Asgard by removing my brother from his prison cell in order to free him from this merciless suffering. I understand your shock at seeing him in this condition, but I must ask, why would you have a care for someone who has grievously hurt your people? Why would have compassion for my brother when you are still burying your dead and rebuilding your city?"

It took everything Tony had not to flinch when Thor rose to his full height and approached him. The blond god was still a little unsteady on his feet, but Tony could see the anger in his face. He’d made him angry? Well too damn bad.

Okay, fine. Asgard had different laws than America did, but that still didn’t make it right. No one, and Tony meant no one, deserved to be tortured.

Thor asked Tony why he was showing compassion for Loki. It wasn’t so much that he cared one way or the other about Thor’s so called ‘misguided’ sibling. It was just that Loki’s treatment hit Tony too close to home. He had to tell Thor and make him understand. But Tony was not okay with that prospect at all.

If he was going to do this, Tony couldn’t look Thor in the eyes. His hands felt empty without the comforting weight of a cut crystal glass and it's soothing contents. Tony turned towards the bank of windows and tried to keep his voice from shaking. The memories were still too close to the surface.

“Has anyone ever told you how I got this glowing accessory in my chest?”

Tony faced Thor again and pointed at the arc reactor. It was nicely framed in the opening of his half unbuttoned shirt. Usually he kept it covered, but Tony hadn’t been expecting company, especially with it being the weekend.

Thor looked at the glowing device in Tony's chest. "I was told it helps you survive. I know it powers your iron suit, but I know not how you came by it.”

“Helps me survive,” Tony repeated and took a deep breath. “Yeah, but how I got it? Not a nice story at all. Pay close attention. I’m only going to say this once.”

Unable to stay still Tony started to pace.

“I was betrayed by a man I thought of as my father. He sold me out to some men who wanted me to use my abilities to make them weapons. When I was taken, I got hurt. I was caught in an explosion that forced small pieces of metal into my chest near my heart. Another prisoner of theirs helped keep me alive long enough for them to ‘try’ and convince me to help them.

"I was tortured, Thor. The things that were done to me, no one should have to live through. I tried to resist, but in the end, it didn’t do any good.”

Tony was a little dizzy and realized he was breathing too fast on the verge of hyperventilating. He needed to get the rest of the story out and then find someplace dark and quiet where he could curl up in a ball and freak out in private.

“If I was going to get out of captivity, I had to do it myself. So I built the first model of what is now in my chest. It keeps the shards of metal away from my heart. It keeps me alive. Then I built the first Iron Man suit. I got out of there and took down most of my captors as I left.

"The ironic part of this whole story is this: The explosion that caused me my injury in the first place, it was my company built the damn bomb. See, back then I didn’t care who bought my weapons. But after seeing it first hand? It changed me. I vowed that my designs would never hurt anyone ever again.”

Tony couldn’t resist. He needed something to take the edge off. The billionaire walked to the mini bar and poured himself a large whiskey. He took a few gulps and relished the burning in his gut. Better that than the sick nausea.

“So you see, what was done to your brother, I’ve been through something similar. Perhaps it would have been kinder to have been killed, because I sure as hell would not want to live through that again.”

Tony felt something wet on the side of his hand and looked down. Damn it, his hands were shaking again. He set the glass down and clenched his hands into fists, then turned back towards the windows.

He wondered if his rambling confession made any sense at all. It was all still a jumble in his mind. He desperately needed to stuff it back into the box it had oozed out from in his scramble to explain himself to Thor.

Even though Loki was turned away from Stark, he listened. He could barely make out the man’s reflection in the large mirror against the south wall, but he saw and heard far more than Thor’s eyes and ears would have.

Stark’s words conjured repulsive memories of his brutal Chitauri captors and their instruments of torture. How accurately Stark described the helplessness, the panic and shock of it all, the anger and vow of desperation to never return to that terror.

Obviously, Stark had known what it was like to be dragged through the depths of hell for genuine good intentions gone awry. He spoke of betrayal, agony, awareness, and finally redemption. The latter, Loki had yet to experience. Destroying Jotunheim should have been his redeeming act, but it turned out to be the beginning of his fall from of grace. The awareness had only shown him he was an instrument of chaos to be wielded for destruction by whomever bested him in strength and power. And that burned in  him some place deep inside that nothing could extinguish.

How different a world they lived in, and yet how strangely similar.

Still, Stark had exposed too much of himself. He’d laid himself bare and stood alone with no shield and no one to protect him. It made Loki uncomfortable. Did he not realize how easily this information could be used to cripple him, how easily Loki could be the one to do it?

Humans. They set themselves up to fail like this and then wonder why Loki would suggest a different way of managing themselves. Loki rolled his eyes only to regret it immensely as his world spun again.

“I feel both sorrow and admiration for what you have shared with me, Tony Stark. You have had little time to come to terms with such heinous acts of evil much less understand yourself, and yet you are resolved to press forward in the name of decency and righteousness."

Loki shifted awkwardly, moaning in his discomfort, wanting desperately to tell his brother to shut up.

Thor knelt at his brother’s side with little to offer in comfort at the moment. He addressed their host again. “You have responded honorably to wrongs done to you, Stark.  You could have embodied rage and vengeance instead.” He couldn’t help his eyes straying to his brother. “That Loki could learn from your example and turn his rage into redemption is a prayer that I --”

Loki pushed at Thor with weak hands that had more force than he expected. He managed to prop himself up on one shaking elbow. It held him upright long enough for him to claw at the binding in his mouth with his other hand.

"Loki, stop. You know you cannot remove the thread with your fingers."

He then tried to claw at Thor.

"I see you are still combative," Thor observed, struggling with his brother, "but you are as weak and uncoordinated as a newborn foal."

Almost as soon as the quarrel started, Loki wilted and fell unconscious again, worn out by his tantrum. Thor repositioned him on the bedding and sighed heavily. "This is all in vain unless I can free Loki from the binding."

He turned weary eyes towards Stark’s and saw his hands trembling, the alcohol he so desperately longed for spilling out of the cup. Thor felt as responsible for Stark's current discomfort as he did for brother’s direct misery.

“I am sorry to have brought these memories from your past into the light again, where they can do you harm. Where I a spellmaster like my brother, I would offer to ease your anguish by wiping the thought from your mind. Tis a faster method than alcohol and lasts twice as long."

Pull yourself together, Tony thought, as he willed his hands to stop trembling. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. He could do this. In fact, he’d done it many times in the past, mentally duct-taped himself back together.

Tony finished the whiskey in his glass and set it down on the bar. God, he was tired, but there were two beings in this room that needed him more than attending his own pity party.

He forced himself to really look at Loki this time. The horrific wounds to his lips and the real likelihood he was hovering at death’s door spurred Tony to try and do something. But what?

Tony could hardly call any number of private physicians he knew. Loki was a war criminal. And if Thor had the ability to aid his brother, he would have done so already. The billionaire didn’t have a medical degree for Christ sake. He had plenty of others degrees and certificates, but not one that would really help at the moment.

Shit. Tony wished Bruce was here. Not that he wouldn’t Hulk out at first sight of Loki, but he’d take his chances.

“Okay, Thor. What do we need to do here, because I’m totally lost.” Tony gathered his alcohol fueled bravado and approached the bed.

“I need to locate a type of metal that is only forged on earth. A tungsten blade can free my brother from the leather binding and the poison it contains. It is usually a ceremonial dagger. The Allfather has the only one in Asgard. I remember a museum in New Mexico near Jane Foster’s home had a suitable match.”

“Tungsten? Hell, Thor. I have blades like that in the shop. They are some of the best precision tools I own. I thought it would be something difficult like adamantium or something. There is only one place, or should I say person, I know of that has that, and I don’t think we want Wolverine within a mile of your brother. It would not end well.”

Thor knew not of the wolf person he spoke of, but he was grateful Stark possessed the metal dagger needed.

Finally, this was something Tony could do. He'd give Thor the blade, let him cut his brother free, and then what? Well, Tony had no clue what next but first things first.

“Okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” Tony turned to and left the room heading for his private elevator.

~*~

Natasha had waited long enough. Jarvis’s assurances that the elevator would soon be fixed was trying her patience. After almost a half an hour of furious pacing in the confined space, she was done.

Steve  watched from his corner, trying not to get in the agent’s way. He was able to pick out a few of the Russian curses she spat out and knew her patience was wearing thin. When she turned to look at Steve, he had the feeling he wasn't going to like what she was going to say.

"Give me a boost," Agent Romanoff said, as she looked up at the ceiling access panel.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? If Tony really doesn't want to see us..." Steve began.

"Listen, Stark is up to something. I mentioned he's dangerous when left to his own devices. I mean to find out what's going on with or without your help." She raised one finely sculpted eyebrow and Steve sighed.

The Captain cupped his hands and she nimbly stepped into them. He effortlessly raised Natasha up until she could slide the panel to one side. Steve tried really hard to disregard the way her thigh pressed into his cheek or the slightly spicy and floral scent of her perfume. He was profoundly grateful when she climbed up onto the top of the car. Agent Romanoff looked back down through the opening and grinned impishly.

"Are you coming?" Then she disappeared from view.

Steve shook his head and told himself he must be crazy. But there was no way he was letting her traverse the elevator shaft on her own.

Steve jumped and grabbed the edges of the opening and pulled himself up. He saw that Agent Romanoff was already on an access ladder running up the side of the shaft. The Captain figured all they had to do was make a short climb to the next floor and force the doors. So without any hesitation he followed.

~*~

“Sir, I regret to inform you that Captain Rogers and Miss Romanoff have exited the elevator and are taking the stairs down to your workshop."

“Oh fuck. That is all I need,” Tony muttered to himself.

As Tony got into the lift, he thought maybe if he were lucky he could beat them downstairs. It figured though. Weeks of being left to his own devices and everyone chooses to visit him now? Any other time, Tony would have thought, Great! Let’s have a party! He’d even spring for the good booze.

Why now. The universe must truly hate him.

“Sir, they are currently at the door to your workshop. I have blocked them access.”

“Great, good. Tell them I’m on my way down.” Tony glanced at his reflection in the mirrored wall panel. Hair totally messed up and not in a ‘hey I just rolled out of bed sexy way’, wrinkled white button down shirt, faded jeans with the knees ripped out and bare feet. Yup he looked ready to face the world. Actually, he looked like he’d gone on a week-long bender, which he had.

The elevator stopped and Tony took a deep breath before the doors opened. Then he stepped out.

Showtime. Now they find out how good of an actor he really was. Hiding fugitive Norse Gods in his bedroom: Check. Plan to cover it up: No fucking clue.

Tony arranged his face into a cheerful mask, then confidently walked down the hall. He just hoped his legs wouldn’t give out before he got to them.

“You know, breaking and entering is generally frowned upon,” Tony stated, as Natasha turned to look at him. She seemed completely unfazed by his arrival. At least Cap had the decency to look guilty.

“That's something I would not have had to do if you would have returned Fury’s calls,” she coolly replied.

“Oh, so he didn’t like my little gift? I thought some good old fashioned phone porn would loosen him up a little.” The billionaire pasted on his best smarmy grin.

“Can it, Stark. I really didn't volunteer for this little errand. I was just supposed to make sure you were still alive. Although by the looks of you,” Natasha stepped closer and sniffed, “it appears you were on quite the bender. You reek of booze and its only nine in the morning.”

“Hey, just carrying over the party from the night before. Didn’t you get my invitation? Really though, I have some things I need to do today, so if you don’t mind.” Tony tried to edge past her but she wasn’t budging. It wasn’t worth his life to get her to move.

“I talked to Pepper. She wanted me to make sure you were alright too,” Natasha said softly.

Shit. Okay, frankly, a concerned super deadly ninja spy was kinda freaking Tony out. “Look. It just didn’t work out, okay? I’m fine, she’s fine, we’re all fine here.” Tony ground out a little desperately. He really needed to get back upstairs.

“Tony, you really don’t look well," Steve commented. "When was the last time you slept?”

Okay, now Captain American was piping up. Come on. Tony was an adult here and could take care of himself. Well, not if you listened to Rhodey.

“I slept, ah, last night as a matter of fact. Yeah see, I think I even ate something too, probably yesterday at one point."

Neither seemed convinced.

"Fine. Linger if you must, but I won't be here to oversee that. I really need to grab a few things and get back to... stuff. You know, things to invent and all that.” This time Tony managed to get past the bookends that were blocking his way.

Jarvis, being ever so helpful, opened the door. Tony went into his workshop and, to his dismay, was followed inside. Damn door didn’t close fast enough. As nonchalantly as possible, he grabbed the zippered case that contained the precision blade kit he needed.

“Look, as fun as this has been, I have things to do--”

Tony was interrupted by Natasha’s cell phone.

“Romanoff. Yes, I know. He’s got a session today. No, I didn’t. Well, I don’t blame him, really. I have no idea. When he wants to be found, then you’ll find him. Fine. I’m coming back now.” She clicked her phone shut and frowned.

“Is there a problem?” Cap said from behind Stark.

Tony could not help jumping a little. How could someone so big make no noise when they moved?

“Clint’s taken off. They want me to find him. I’m not so sure that would be a good idea,” Natasha confessed with a long-suffering sigh.

Thinking about everything Barton had gone through kind of made some of Tony’s problems small in comparison. Out of all of them, he got screwed over by Loki the worst. Tony felt a stab of guilt that the being in question was currently residing in his bed.

“Sorry to hear that. So I guess you’ll be going now. Let us know how Barton is would you?” Tony went towards the door hoping they’d get the hint and follow.

To his immense relief, they did.

When they got to the elevator, Tony waited for them to join him. The ride to the garage was quietly uncomfortable. When the doors opened, Tony ushered them out.

“As I said, feel free to visit any time, other than right now. Monday would be better. The work crews will be back, and I can really give you the ten-dollar tour and show you what they're working on.” Tony didn’t wait around to watch them leave the garage and officially step off his property. He had to get back upstairs.

Natasha observed him with her eyes narrowed. She trusted Tony about as far as she could throw him. “He’s up to something," she told Steve. "I’m not sure what, but it is making me uneasy. Stick with him today. Make sure he doesn’t maim his half-inebriated, sleep-deprived self. I need to go and find my partner.”

“I’ll see what I can do, although I’m not sure I’ll even be allowed back inside.” Steve shook his head. How did he get the unenviable job of babysitting the millionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist?

“Use code 229221 to get back up there. And thanks, Steve,” she said with a slight smile.

He felt his mouth curve up. She was really beautiful when she smiled.

When Natasha left, he put his hands on his hips and looked up. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. How can I be of service?”

“Is Tony really alright?"

Jarvis, after all, was built to protect and look after Tony Stark, even from his own self-destructive tendencies. The Captain just might be the best person to aid the AI in accomplishing his goal.

“Sir is currently entering his penthouse suite. Since you now have a valid override code, I will not impede your progress.”

"Okay," Steve replied, shocked at the ease at which he was allowed entrance. "You have something against dames or were you just toying with her because she's SHIELD?"

The phrase "toying with" would imply the ability to emote. I am no more than my algorithm allows, Captain."

"With Stark creating your programming, I'm sure there's a lot of wiggle room there," Steve murmured.

"Oh, you have no idea."