Chapter 1
Thor spent a month with the Guardians before he realized he wanted to go home. His decision was made when a signal blared to life on some sort of radar they rigged up on the Benatar, emitting a loud, wailing noise that woke them all up in the middle of the night.
“Huge energy,” Quill said grimly. “It burst out of nowhere.”
“On Earth,” Rocket said, scratching his chin.
“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Thor was gone before anyone could say anything else, the Bifrost flashing through dim ship as he hefted Stormbreaker over his shoulder.
—
Thor landed far enough away from New Asgard that he wouldn’t wake anyone up with the Bifrost, and trekked the rest of the way to his old cottage.
The door was creaked open when he got there.
An Infinity Stone, Groot had said.
Before Rogers had disappeared, he’d told Thor what he’d seen in New York: Loki, alive, disappearing into thin air with the Tesseract in his hands.
Was that what Thor hoped to find?
Loki, alive?
He pushed the door open further.
“Brother.”
—
This was not the Thor that Loki knew. He could see that immediately. It was not his body, nor his face, nor his hair, but his spirit. Worn down, weary, almost broken. Almost, but not quite.
“Brother,” Loki said, watching Thor from beside the open window, a cool wind blowing in from the cliffs.
Thor only stared, wide-eyed—only one eye. It made pain lance through Loki’s chest, and he turned away, hands coming together to worry at each other.
“You’re not—“
They both started speaking the same sentence at the same time, something they hadn’t done since they were children.
“No,” Loki said, as Thor shook his head.
“But you are my brother,” Thor said, and the barest of smiles came upon his face.
Loki’s brow furrowed. The last he saw of Thor, he was intent on leading Loki to his punishment on Asgard. This Thor looked upon him with—fondness. Love, some part of Loki whispered.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
“Come, if you don’t believe me,” Thor said, tilting his head. He swept some hair from his face and offered Loki his forehead.
Loki fidgeted, hesitating. Why would Thor be offering this? It was a violation of the highest order, to invade someone’s thoughts like that. Either a violation, or an intimacy that Loki could not bear. Loki had never wanted to do it to Thor. Thor had never offered.
He was offering now.
Before he could stop himself, Loki strode forward, and, without looking at Thor, put his hand on Thor’s forehead.
—
The pull of memories went too fast for Thor to register, but the swell of emotion it engendered in him had him weeping as Loki stumbled backwards, reeling.
“No,” Loki was choking out, “no, no, no.”
“I’m sorry,” Thor whispered, and Loki’s head jerked up to look at him with horror.
“I couldn’t save you,” Thor said, tear-choked, watching Loki with blurry eyes.
“It wasn’t—you weren’t—Thor, Gods—”
Thor closed his eyes and shook his head. He couldn’t bear to speak.
Something touched his cheek, hesitant. Thor opened his eyes to see Loki cupping his jaw with one hand, fingers shaking.
“Brother,” Loki said, and he was weeping as well.
“Don’t go,” Thor begged. “Don’t go, don’t—”
“Where would I go?” Loki said, almost a laugh, and his tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Six months,” Loki continued, wonder in his voice. “On that ugly, crowded ship.”
“Best six months out of my 15 centuries,” Thor sniffled.
“I don’t deserve this,” Loki said, shaking his head. “I’m not—him.”
“You don’t have to be,” Thor said. “Only be Loki. Only Loki, nothing else.”