Chapter 3
Friday
Loki lifts his hands in surrender. “I can explain…”
“Did you do this to Steve?”
“No, I--” Loki’s eyes rake across the room. “Look, just--”
“Has he been here the whole time?”
“He showed up yesterday,” Tony says. “Talking about time travel.”
“Time travel?”
“So, you knew he was here? Does that mean you trust him?”
“I’m still on the fence. Pepper vouched for him.”
Loki speaks up. “May I interject?”
All of them chorus a firm, “No.”
Loki frowns.
“I don’t like this.”
“He’s been here a full day and nothing’s happened. But still…”
“I’m starting to--”
Thor raises his voice, “If I may,” they all look to him. “I think we should give Loki a chance to explain,” he shoots his brother a look, “In a cell.”
Strange. Thor was the last person Loki expected to be on his side, after so many betrayals. But, perhaps it is not so strange. His brother, always the sentimental type.
Loki rolls his eyes and holds out his wrists. “If you must. I shall go ‘quietly’.”
“A feat for you, I’m sure,” Tony snips.
Loki is cuffed with some sort of high tech device that he is certain could not actually hold him were he to attempt escape. But that wouldn’t endear him to the group, and he needs their trust.
He is escorted to the cell--another high tech room with some sort of laser barrier (seriously??). Loki is seated and explains everything. Well, everything except the virus. Hopefully Stark will put in a good word. After all, it’s been at least a day and Loki hasn’t stolen the scepter himself. That’s got to count for something, right?
Then, the Avengers dissipate to talk among themselves, leaving Loki alone to stew.
Works for him. He’s exhausted and in serious need of a recharge. He rests his head against the wall and dozes. It’s uncomfortable but he’s…so…tired….
Saturday
Loki is stirred awake by the barrier dropping. He’s groggy, he must have slept longer than expected. Thor enters the room, face drawn and unreadable. He approaches Loki and bends down, taking Loki’s chin in his hand.
“What are you--”
Thor’s blue eyes pierce him. His fingers pinch Loki’s lips together, gaze roaming across Loki’s jaw, over the budding bruise under his eye. He looks like he’s searching for something, but Loki can’t think of what it could be.
Loki pulls away, ice chilling his chest like it does every time his brother gives him that searching look. He both loves and hates the concern in his eyes.
Loki sniffs, “Are you quite done? If you’re wondering if I am real…”
Thor leans against the wall, arms folded as he stares at Loki. “Stark has vouched for you, brother. As have I.”
Loki gives him a quizzical look. “You did?”
“Yes, but they are all wary of you.”
Loki snorts, “I’d be concerned for their intelligence if they weren’t.”
“Against my better judgment I am inclined to believe you.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Only because I know those restraints should not hold you--yet you chose to stay. That could be a ploy, but you have also proved to know future events.”
“I,” Loki hesitates, wondering if his prediction of Ultron was truly enough to sway them. It shouldn’t have been, there was no way to prove it. But, gift horse and all. “Yes. I have.”
Thor stands straight, “You are free to go. But Loki,” he glares at his brother, “If you harm these people, I will kill you myself.”
Loki makes jazz hands, the cuffs clanging to the ground. “Noted.”
Thor steps aside, “I’ll be watching over the scepter. Stark mentioned someone trying to steal away with it.”
“At least someone is finally stepping up to do it.”
They veer off in separate directions, Thor heading left and Loki right. He’s starving. The cell didn’t come with meals served. But Stark must have a stash of food somewhere.
Loki rounds the corner, fussing with his halfway rolled sleeve. He senses it before the hit; he attempts to dodge but an arm clips him in the chest.
Another jab lands just below his ear, making it ring.
“Hey--” Loki blocks the next punch but his assailant doesn’t let up. His legs are cut out from under him and he pitches toward the ground. Before he faceplants, his attacker catches his arm and pretzels it behind his back, holding him taut.
“Alright,” Loki grunts, “You have my attention. Speak your piece.”
Natasha’s voice rumbles, rough and dry. “I don’t care what Tony says,” she snarls. “I don’t trust you.”
Loki puffs an amused breath. “Ma’am, you have every reason not to.”
“You’re outnumbered here. You realize that, right?”
“I can count, thank you very much.”
Loki’s arm tweaks as Natasha jerks, shoulders wrenching with an angry, “HiSH!-nn!”
Loki’s lips sour. There’s no chance she covered her mouth. “Feeling under the weather?”
The heel of her boot slams him in the back and she releases his arm, letting him fall face first onto the ground. Loki huffs, pushing himself up.
“Deserved.” He stands and dusts himself off. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He lets her stare him down until he walks out of sight.
Well. That went over about as well as possible. Loki continues down the hall, searching for some sort of mess hall, or kitchen…
“...feeling better?” Banner’s voice flits around the corner. Loki flattens himself against the wall and tunes his ears.
“Not really,” Rogers replies. “I think I might be…hik’Rshh-eiu!”
“Have you been sick before?”
“Not since the serum, no.”
Loki chews his cheek, frustrated. He’s running out of time to fix this. He needs to keep the virus contained, but having to wait for the antidotes to simmer is making it feel like a more than daunting task.
One thing at a time. He definitely can’t think very well on an empty stomach.
After winding through a few hallways, he finally comes across a tile-plated room with white counters and silver appliances. Loki snoops through the cabinets, pantries, refrigerators. The only familiar things are fixings for a sandwich. Even then…
“What the Hel does ‘enriched’ mean in this context?”
“It means delicious,” Tony bustles in, looking haggard. His face looks frayed and unkempt, his eyes an umber shade of pink and red. His movements are slow, lazy, he looks like he has a good hangover, but Loki knows it’s more than that. Hel, everyone likely does.
Admittedly, it is a bit of a sweet thrill to see the king of swagger off his game.
Tony leans against the counter and folds his arms, flicking a thumb under his nose and sniffling. “So, what’s your game plan here?”
Loki pulls out two slices of bread. “I am making a sandwich.”
“You know what I mean. Why are you still here? If you can time travel, why don’t you just go back to Thursday when the bad guy tried to steal the scepter?”
“Because it doesn’t work like that.”
“How exactly does it work?”
Loki huffs, slapping a piece of cheese onto the meat. “I don’t expect you to understand. The fragility of your mind cannot comprehend it.”
“Are you calling me stupid?”
“I’m calling you human.”
Tony grumbles, shaking his head. He turns and grabs something from the cabinet before thunking a jar down next to Loki.
“Your sandwich is too dry. Use that.”
Loki plucks the jar and examines it. “Trying to poison me, Stark?”
“With knockoff fast food sauce?” Tony glides toward the table and plunks himself down.
Loki chuffs, but he adds a dollop of the sauce to the bread and assembles it all. He sits down at the table across from Tony and takes a cautious bite.
Human food is so unnatural. How can it taste this good??
His face betrays him, only for a second before he shunts his gaze. Tony saw it though and the grin winks across his cheeks.
“You like it.”
“It is passable.”
“You liiiiiike it!”
Loki prepares to retaliate but instead of words coming out, air flows in. The sensation overwhelms him, his hand whips up over his mouth, “Ix’shT!” he blinks wide, fingers clamped over his lips.
Tony puckers his lips, “Aw, is the mighty god catching my cold?”
Loki buries a glower into Tony’s face like a dagger, but his authority is compromised by another barely stifled, “Hg’SHK!”
Damn. He very well may be sick.
“From where did you get this illness?” Loki asks. Perhaps Stark came in contact with the Variant previously.
“I got it from Pepper.”
Drat.
“She got it real bad,” Tony says wistfully. “She almost had to go to the hospital. I thought she might…” his gaze shadows, thoughts darkening. He shakes it off with a visible shudder, “Anyway, she got better fast. Literally in a couple hours, it was gone. So, I figure, I’ll just get worse until I’m not.”
Loki chews thoughtfully. Curious, indeed. If this is the Asgardian virus, how did Potts survive it? How did she recover so quickly?
Commotion in the hall snaps them both to attention. Someone shouts Steve’s name.
Loki and Tony lock gazes. Then they scramble up, racing out of the kitchen. Down the hall, in one of the offshoot rooms, Natasha and Bruce kneel next to a seated Steve, who looks particularly disoriented.
“What happened?” Tony insists.
“I got dizzy,” Steve says, swatting the air, “I fell. It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Tony’s voice pitches. He rounds the furniture and offers Steve his arm. “You fell? Since when are you a klutz, Cap?”
Steve stands, wobbling slightly, and shudders. Bruce presses a wrist to his forehead.
“He’s really warm. I think he has a fever.”
A flush claws its way up Steve’s neck, washing his cheeks in pink. “Ihh…” his eyes squeeze shut, “Hdt-GSHH-ieu!!” Tony and Nat hold him steady, their faces a portrait of concern.
“I think…I need to lay down,” Steve murmurs.
“I agree,” Tony says, pulling Steve’s arm over his neck, bracing him. “C’mon. I’ll take you to a room.”
Loki presses himself against the wall, watching intently as Steve hobbles beside Tony. He swallows, his heart setting up camp in his throat. This is cutting it close. Rogers is getting hit hard, and it seems to be interacting with his powers. Loki isn’t sure what exactly will happen, but he needs to get the antidote tonight. He’s already making plans to do so.
Natasha sucks in a breath and sits on the couch, pressing her head into a fist.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Bruce says.
“Why? Because of Steve?”
“Among other things.”
“We don’t know much about the serum,” Nat says. “It could be interacting with any number of things.”
“I doubt it. I’ve done extensive research on it. Mine was based off of his. Neither of us should be this sick.”
Nat pops up as if pricked in the back, “Are you?”
Bruce looks at her, eyes crinkling. “You are. And you should rest.”
“That didn’t answer my question, Bruce.”
He points his folded glasses at her. “Go lay down. Or I’ll sic Maria on you.” He strides away, Natasha frowning after him.
Not wishing to be left alone with the Widow, Loki unsticks himself from the wall and tiptoes away, heading toward the room with the scepter.
Loki eases the door open, eyes finding his brother straight away. Thor sits on the floor, legs splayed in front of him, back propped against the wall. He’s examining his hammer with crimped eyes.
Loki knows when he used to do this, he was admiring it--dreaming up endless wars, reminiscing glory. But now, Thor’s inspection is more that of a loving parent gazing upon their child.
“Fondling your toys again, brother?”
Thor looks up at him, a storm of emotions clouding his face. “Protecting the scepter,” he gestures at the staff glowing in the middle of the bright cellblock of a room.
“I see,” Loki ambles toward him and slides down next to his brother. He mimics his position, splaying his legs and bumping Thor with a boot.
Thor’s neck twists. He stares at Loki, eyes raking up and down his body, quite the same as he had done with the hammer.
“What?” Loki asks.
Thor reaches out, fingers tipping against Loki’s cheek again, the touch gentle, like a brush on canvas. He inspects Loki’s face again, more curiosity this time than concern.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Loki asks.
Thor just frowns, letting his hand drop.
Loki shifts on the floor, mapping circles in the dusty tile. “Do you remember when we were youths…we would eavesdrop on Father?”
Thor smiles and nods. “You would enchant various items to use as listening devices.”
“Ugh, that time we were caught by a guard, huddled behind an empty goblet.”
“That was amusing.”
Loki gaffs, “I was disguised as a servant girl! It looked like we were necking!”
Thor booms with laughter. They chuckle for a bit before drifting back into silence.
“Loki…” Thor’s voice is weighted and low, “would you just tell me what is going on? You’re secretive yes, but this is beyond normal.”
Loki’s head thuds against the wall. “I wish I could. I really do.”
Thor pulls his fist to his lips, chest thickening with a deep inhale. “Hhh-RRSHHH-euu!” his nostrils open with a sniff.
Loki’s voice hollows. “No…”
“What?”
Loki touches Thor’s forehead. “You’re ill--” A dull hum buzzes his fingers, like pressing skin to an active wire. “You’re leaking lightning, brother.”
“I have it under control,” Thor grunts.
“For how long?”
“Worry not about me, but about yourself. I got this from you.”
“What? No you didn’t. I--”
Jade light blankets the room. Thor and Loki throw themselves to their feet. The robed Variant materializes next to the scepter, arm outstretched. Loki flings a starburst of green at the Variant, making them stumble.
Thor throws his hammer, clanging it against the Variant’s head. The robed figure stutters backward, careening toward the ground. Before they hit, light envelops them, swallowing them whole.
A fist cuts across Thor’s cheek, having appeared from another portal. Thor, barely stunned by the blow, wraps his hand around the Variant’s arm and hurls them at the wall.
They brace their palms, stopping their face from splatting. The Variant pushes themself off, spinning to face the brothers closing in on them like a wild animal.
Loki edges close, keeping his arms tight, hoping he can bait and lunge. But Thor chooses an aggressive move, hurling the hammer again.
Three things happen simultaneously.
The Variant dodges into a newly created portal. Their head disappears inside. Loki shouts and heaves himself at the Variant. His fingers close around the winged edge of the robe.
A flash of white blinds Loki and his feet lift off the ground. His stomach flips and suddenly he is stumbling, disoriented and dazed, ears raucous with the thud of his heartbeat.
He drinks in crisp, minty air, blinking at his surroundings. It’s such a sudden change, it sends him into a full-body shiver and he doubles over, “Hg-shhzz! EGSZZHH-ieu!” fogging the ground with cloudy breaths.
He straightens, wiping his wrist along his lips and looking around. He is standing in a field of crimson flora. Tiny clovered leaves sifting back and forth in the wind. The gnarled branches of barren, decayed trees claw at the clouds. Twin setting suns carve golden circles in the pink sky.
The Variant stands several feet away, ankle deep in the brush.
“Show your face,” Loki demands. “It matters not who you are. I will always find you.”
A familiar laugh rickets from the hood. A sharp yet smooth voice, “Very well.” The hood is removed and as it slips off the entire ensemble, it disintegrates, leaving behind…
It’s…him. Loki. The Variant is…himself.
Of fucking course it’s me!
When is there ever another Variant?? Just once, Loki would like to see a variant of the goddamn Avengers.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Loki sighs, planting a fist on his hip. “So, what? Are you after the scepter to reclaim our glorious purpose?”
The Variant laughs, “My mission is my business. For now.”
Loki tilts his head. “How are you traveling through time?”
“Why would I tell you?”
A sputter, “Well, that makes it obvious--you are not pulling your own strings. You’re acting someone’s puppet.”
The Variant’s face contorts, an ember to a flame. Loki certainly knows how to bait himself. “My will is my own. No one rules me!”
Loki flicks an imaginary speck from his shirt. “Of course. I completely believe you.”
The Variant snarls, baring teeth. “My time travel is superior to yours.” He holds up his hand, showing fingers black as decay, the ends cracked and peeling like scales. The decay crawls down his wrist and fades down his forearm.
His fingers trill and a gem appears--shining, radiant, power teeming from it.
Loki’s jaw unhinges. The time stone.
“How did you…”
“It fell into my hands from the stars. A hole ripped through the realm, and through it came a sorcerer and a child.” The Variant caresses the gem with a long finger. “I killed the sorcerer. I pursued the girl but she got away. I did find this lovely gift though.”
Fear threads through Loki. He swallows dryly. “It’s killing you.”
“Perhaps. But it is worth the sacrifice.”
Loki has no response. His brain flits around, synapses firing between scenarios, reactions, plans--
The prickle of movement lifts the hairs on his neck. Loki ducks just as the Variant’s blade sings above his head. Loki rolls, splitting himself into four illusions. All of his doubles dart in various directions.
The Variant fires missiles at each one as Loki clamors toward him. A swift uppercut to the chin catches the Variant but he’s able to whirl into it, spinning and coming back up with a dagger. The blade catches Loki on the cheek, carving a slit into his skin.
Loki stumbles back and the Variant catches the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in his fist and pulling Loki close. A snakelike smile curves across his face.
“I will let you go with a warning,” he whispers. “If you try to stop me, Thor will cease to be.”
Loki’s heart crystalizes, the ice of adrenaline zinging through his veins.
“Ah,” the Variant’s voice softens. “We are not so different, then.”
“What does that mean?”
The Variant leans in, “I’m certain you will learn soon enough.” His fist sharpens, pulling Loki close. So close, their noses touch, fleshy tips scrunching together. So close, their breaths are one. Loki peers into his own eyes, flecks of psychosis dancing within.
“Enjoy your descent into madness.”
The gap between their mouths vanishes and the Variant’s lips fold over Loki’s.
Magic zings from their point of contact, almost electric in its intrusion. It fills Loki up, lights his nerves on fire, floods his veins. The tips of his fingers wink like emerald stars. His eyes flash wide open, beacons of light blinding the sky.
The Variant’s palm slams into Loki’s chest and he soars backwards, weightless. A shooting star of magic. Dimensions blur around him. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. He is only magic, arcing through time and space, until a veil drapes across his vision.
The last thing he hears are his brother’s dying screams.