Avengers 1. Prologue: The Fall

_Author's Note: The ancient Nordic year is in use for time here; two seasons would be equal to a year of time on earth._

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**Prologue: The Fall**

The prisons of Asgard were legendary. Those who did not perish within those walls, and most did die, emerged changed; some became mere shadows of who they had once were, while others returned maddened, warped of mind, body, or both, beyond repair.

When Loki was to be brought up from the lowest levels of the dungeons, where he had served six seasons for his crimes against Asgard, Jotunheim, and Midgard, there were whispers and secret wagers made among the Æsir of which category the fallen prince would be a party to. Would he return broken in body, broken in spirit, or both?

It was clear to everyone on the day that Loki was escorted by the palace guard to hold audience with Odin, that none of their wagers were entirely right, or entirely wrong.

The God of Mischief walked with a halting gait across the great hall, his ankles still shackled together and his wrists bound behind his back. His black hair was in long, matted tangles, his skin riddled with bruises, and his clothing was ragged, torn and filthy. His mouth was a horrific thing to behold; blood dried and crusted where the seams of his sewn lips pulled against the scarred flesh; but he held his head high, his gaze defiant as he went forward to the raised dais where the All-Father sat on his throne.

When he took his place at the bottom of the steps, he fixed Odin with a look that was unmistakable; a look of pure scorn, of unconcealed hated. The guard escort that had brought him in tried to force the god to his knees before the All-Father and it was then that Loki struggled, jerking himself out of the grasp of his captors. A hiss of contempt rippled through the hall, the Æsir nobility and courtiers in attendance outraged and scandalized by the action. When the guards took hold of Loki again and this time forced him to his knees with success, a cheer broke out among the more vocal members in attendance until Odin lifted a hand, signaling for silence.

Loki spared only a glance around himself, looking for Frigga and Thor, and when he saw neither, his attention returned to Odin once more.

Rising to his feet the All-Father looked down on his adopted son, the old man impassive as he spoke.

"Loki, fallen Prince of Asgard. You have served the entirety of your sentence. Let the court be reminded of the terms. Six seasons was the sentence. Two seasons for high treason and attempted fratricide and patricide, a season for your attempt to destroy Jotunheim, and another three seasons for your terrible crimes against Midgard."

Odin raised his hand again and with a gesture, the threads from the trickster's mouth came loose, whipping through the wounds of his mouth like a snake and falling to the ground when it was free. Loki did not even wince, the stinging of his mouth nothing compared to the agony he had already endured.

Odin spoke again, his voice low and grave. "You have served these sentences. What have you learned from your time spent in the prisons of Asgard? Have you embraced the understanding of consequences for foul and evil deeds, or does your heart remain dark?"

Loki remained silent, his eyes still locked on the All-Father. Several minutes passed before the court began to grow restless, another hiss of discontented and ill-tempered murmurs beginning to pass through the crowd as the prince continued to stay mute.

At long last Loki turned his head, looking at the court, taking in the sea of bodies and the mixed expressions of displeasure and anger; when he looked back to Odin, a silence fell as he parted his lips, all expectant of his first words.

Instead, Loki spit on the floor before the throne.

Outrage passed through the court at lightning speed, and some of the more daring nobles surged forward as if to seize the prince, but the crash of Odin's staff striking against the daïs brought all to a standstill. The All-Father turned his eye upon the Æsir, everyone shrinking back under his angry gaze.

"Let it be known by all that what befalls him will not come at the hands of the court. I, Odin, command you all to be still and speak no more! Those who do not obey shall regret their foolishness." He struck the staff on the floor a second time, and the court members bowed their heads in ascent, though a few were slower to do so than others.

"Loki." Odin looked down at him, shaking his head. "You leave me no choice. If you have learned nothing, if you will speak nothing, your sentence in the prisons has been fulfilled in body but it has been spent in vain for your heart and mind. Thus, you will now begin a sentence of new making. As Thor once was, you are unworthy of this realm, of all title and your powers. I strip you of immortality and godhood. You are henceforth banished from this realm until the day comes when you have cast out the blackness of evil from your soul and learned from your mistakes. Until a time when you know goodness, to abandon lies for truth, and to act with unselfishness, I cast you out!"

With a final strike of his staff to the ground, the palace itself shook with Odin's words, and a strong wind whipped through the great hall. Chaos broke out as the court fled, everyone making as much distance between themselves and the former God of Mischief as Loki stumbled, falling forward onto his face as the world tilted.

Then everything went black.

* * *

The storm came with sudden and unexpected forced over New York City, meteorologists that had predicted sun and high temperatures for the summer day were thrown into consternation as clouds rolled in from the ocean and the sky turned dark.

Rain came, a torrential downpour, and wind swept down the streets, forcing people to take cover indoors or under umbrellas and newspapers as they tried to go from one place to the next.

Amid the storm, a figure fell from the sky, streaking toward the harbor and crashing down into the water.

The shock of the impact and the cold brought Loki back to his senses; his eyes snapping open and water spilling into his mouth and nose as he gasped. It took all of his feeble, mortal strength to propel himself up toward the faint light above him, and he sputtered when he reached the surface, sucking air into his lungs in great, gasping breaths; all his pathetic, mortal ability to swim with terrible, ungraceful and heavy motions until he reached the shore, to drag himself up the rocky beach where he once again passed out.


	2. Chapter 1: Four Months Later

_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who is following this story, it's my first Avengers Fic and my first foray into the Marvel Universe in general._

_Also, please bear with me, it's been a few years since I've been on and I'm still trying to relearn how all the formatting goes (the ability to insert a line to separate different sections in chapters is still evading me, no matter how many times I use the formatting buttons in the document manager.)_

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**Chapter 1: Five Months Later…**

"Oh my God, is that who I think it is?" Darcy suppressed a squeal into her hand and looked up at Steve, squeezing his arm as he escorted her through the sea of people outside the Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. "I still can't believe there as sooo many famous people here!"

"Yeah, Tony really knows how to draw a crowd," Steve murmured, feeling more than a little uncomfortable in his present situation. The event was one of Tony Stark's big fundraisers for several local charities just in time for the holidays, and the billionaire had made it obvious to his fellow Avengers that their attendance (publicized ahead of time of course) would do more than a little to help draw in and open up some of the deeper pockets in Manhattan. While he didn't begrudge Tony for wanting to make the most of his philanthropy tendencies, or the charities that depending on his funding, the notion of spending several nights like a bug under the glass of the social upper crust made him wish there was an easier way for him to help the less fortunate.

His comfort level had been lowered even more when, on the eve of the current event, Tony had informed Steve that he'd taken the liberty of arranging a date for him.

"Look, Cap, it's not like you've got someone already in mind to bring," Tony had chided him when he'd sputtered at the news, "Thor is bringing Jane, I've got Pepper, Bruce is going with Natasha since Clint can't make it, so that leaves you, big guy. Don't worry about it, just get a tux, smile and nod a lot when she talks to you and act interested even if you're not – easy enough, right? Right. That settles it."

Darcy have proved be a nice enough girl, but Steve felt more than a little out of his element as she'd been rattling off the names of every celebrity she'd seen since they'd arrived and what films they'd been in, or what song of theirs she had on her iPod playlist.

Steve didn't know what was more decadently put together for the evening, the guests, or the room. Every woman they passed seemed to be wearing her weight in diamonds or other previous gemstones; even Darcy wore a small tennis bracelet of diamonds to compliment the red evening gown she wore, both borrowed from Pepper for the evening. As for the ballroom, garlands of Christmas lights, green and silver ribbons, and pine boughs were hung everywhere, the greenery decked with glittering ornaments, each catching the light of the overhanging chandeliers. Every table was topped with crimson velvet tablecloths and centerpieces of holly and ivy spread around silver candelabras. Every dish was fine china, each utensil made of real silver. The irony that the opulence of the decorations and the jewels around him was likely equal or exceed to the value of the money being raised that evening wasn't lost on Steve.

Darcy continued to titter at his side as they made their way across the room, and he was more than a little relieved when they reached their table and Darcy relinquished her hold on him and took a seat next to Jane, shifting her focus of conversation to the other woman and Thor. Bruce and Natasha joined them after a few minutes, and the last to take their place at the table were Erik Selvig and Maria Hill. While most of the team was still trying to understand just how and when the astrophysicist and Agent Hill had ever started dating, Steve was just glad to see that both of them seemed genuinely happy.

The following hour and a half was spent eating dinner and making polite conversation, punctuated with several pauses when someone came over to the table to introduce themselves and to get a chance to shake hands with each of the team's members. Natasha fended off more than one invitation to join another table by over-eager admirers, something that Steve found appallingly rude when she was obviously there with someone else, though Bruce stayed good-natured each time it happened.

At last Tony, who had been obligated to sit away from his fellow team mates at a table of dignitaries and at least two of the Forbes top ten (Tony excluded), took his place up at the podium near the front of the room and began his speech thanking the attendees for their time and their money that evening.

Steve let his mind wander while Tony spoke, glancing around at the other guests. He did a double take when he caught sight of one woman several tables over, her dark hair up in a style almost identical to how Peggy had worn hers; of course it wasn't Peggy, and the mere realization that he was thinking about her again brought a small pang to his chest.

It'd been almost four years since he'd woken up in a different time, four years since he'd discovered that the world around him had changed, the people he'd known died, many of the ways of life he'd known gone. The others had told him it'd take time, understandably, but eventually something had to give and he'd learn to adapt.

And he had, to some degree; the apartment he'd taken shortly after the battle against Loki and the Chitauri had modern appliances and he'd learned to use them, even to grow fond of some things like the microwave for those nights when he'd come back late, sore and dirty from the latest bout of saving the city or the world from whatever villain it was this week or month, and it was easy to throw one of those frozen dinner in for five minutes. He'd learned a lot from the modern television programs too, and he had to admit there was something great about being able to watch a baseball game at home instead of just hearing about it on the radio.

But there were other details of everyday life he still hadn't been able to get a grasp on, and most of it was interacting with the people. Like how the taxi cab drivers eyed him with suspicion when he thanked them, or how some women were insulted when he held the door for them. There was the way that people dressed, the way they talked, the way they interacted not with him but around him or to him. Part of him wasn't sure whether it was entirely because he was a man out of time, or because he was Captain America.

The applause from the audience as Tony finished his speech brought Steve out of his thoughts and he clapped along with everyone until Tony held his hands up, giving them all a smile. "Alright, alright, I know I'm charismatic and I'm sure I could entertain you all with at least another hour worth of talk, but I did promise you there'd be dancing this evening, so now it's time to introduce and thank the members of the New York Philharmonic that have been gracious enough to give their time and music to this cause."

More applause followed, and then the orchestra members who had been waiting their turn began to play, prompting several people to rise from their tables and move to the center dance floor.

Steve lingered in his seat until Thor and Jane took the lead for their table, then rose and escorted Darcy out onto the floor. Almost to his relief Darcy wasn't as skilled dancer as he was, and after she stepped on his feet a few times, he found some small pleasure in moving off to the side of the dance floor to show her how to waltz.

"Good, you're getting the hang of it now," he encouraged as she finally began to understand where and when to step.

"This is a hell of a lot more complicated than jumping on the floor at a club and bouncing around," she admitted. "Things were a lot stiffer when you were – I mean, back when.. you know. Before that whole getting turned into an ice cube thing happened to you."

"Yeah. Things have changed. They've changed a lot."

"Captain, may we switch our dancing maidens?" Thor had maneuvered himself and Jane over to where they were, and he elbowed Steve lightly, grinning. "I promised Darcy this night that I would show her how we dance in Asgard."

Darcy wrinkled her nose, "You can show me, as long as you don't call me a 'maiden' again."

Steve nodded and took Jane's waist and hand, leading her into the next dance.

"Thanks again for being Darcy's date tonight," Jane said, glancing over at Thor and the younger woman, both whom were doing their best not to bump into anyone else as they cracked up and conversed as they danced. "Being out in the field doing research all the time has kind of made it hard for her to do a lot of social things, especially since she's working on her Masters in Astronomy now. She was really anxious about coming."

"That makes two of us then," Steve admitted. "These big functions are… important, especially something like this, when Tony is trying to help fund the homeless shelters and hospitals. This just isn't my element."

Jane gave him a sympathetic look of understanding. "I'd rather be out watching the sky through a telescope or at home with a bowl of popcorn trying to explain whatever film we picked for the night to Thor, but you're right. Things like this are important. Lucky for us we've got people like Tony and Thor who are good with big crowds to make up for the rest of us that aren't." She paused, glancing over at the Asgardian prince, then up at Steve again.

"Has he talked to any of you much lately about how he's been?"

Steve shook his head. "No, he hasn't. He's been quieter at the S.H.I.E.L.D. meetings, but I can't blame him. Director Fury questions him every time about whether or not he'd discovered where his brother is. I can't blame Fury either. The last thing any of us want is Loki coming back from wherever he's gone to with another intergalactic army. The Chitauri were bad enough."

"I thought Loki didn't have his powers anymore," Jane said, frowning.

"That's what Thor told us too, but he also thought his brother was dead last time and look how that turned out," Steve countered. "I think it would give Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D., all some of peace of mind if we knew for sure where Loki was and what he was up to. As it stands, Thor said he's been systematically checking the different realms as much as he's been allowed to by Odin, and as much as politics will allow him to go to those places."

"I wish his father would just tell him where he is." Jane looked over at her boyfriend again. "It's eating at Thor that he doesn't know. He doesn't really talk about it but… I know Loki's a bad guy, but that doesn't change that he's his brother. Even after everything that's happened, he still worries about him."

Steve nodded. Thor had spoken to him very briefly of his attempt to discover Loki's whereabouts from Odin, but the god had refused to speak about it and had gone so far as to forbid the mention of his other son's. As far as Odin and apparently the majority of Asgard were concerned, Loki was gone and that was that. "I wish he would too, but that's not going to happen."

"Which is why Thor is still looking." Jane sighed. "I just wish for once that things could be simple. Well, as simple for us as they can be, but who am I to talk? My boyfriend is from another galaxy."

Steve smiled, but was grateful when Thor returned to reclaim his dancing partner. Darcy had managed to gain another dancing partner and glanced over at him, her expression making it obvious that she was more than a little thrilled to be dancing with one of the movie stars that she had pointed out when they'd arrived at the event.

"Why aren't you dancing, Captain?"

Steve turned and found himself being sized up by a blonde, middle aged woman. She held out her hand and he took it out of habit of good manners. She laughed and sidled closer, linking an arm with his as she offered her name. "Miranda Brock."

"Captain Rogers," Steve offered in return, not quite sure how to politely retrieve his arm from her grasp and realizing he was being pulled toward the dance floor again.

"Yes, I know who you are. Charmed," she said, and guided his hands to her waist and hand. "Seeing how you've lost your partner, surely you won't mind if I step in. I've lost my own as well."

"Dancing with another woman?" he guessed, taking lead for the foxtrot.

"Deceased, last month," she said, shocking him more than a little with how offhandedly she said it. "My husband managed several companies, Brock Yachts and South Seas Luxury Cruise Lines, to name two of them."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Steve offered.

"Oh don't be, honey," she laughed, and he could smell the alcohol on her breath. "I'm a wealthy woman now, there's nothing to be sad about that for. It gives me the opportunity to come to events like this, to meet other far more interesting men like you."

"I'd hardly say I qualify as interesting, ma'am, I'm just a soldier."

"Don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel so old… and you're a captain, aren't you? That's more than 'just a soldier' if you ask me…"

"Miranda, have I really caught you dancing with the Captain before me? I'm hurt. After all, it's my party."

Steve was more than willing to let go of the woman and step back as Tony approached and took his place. When Mrs. Brock's back was turned toward him he gave Tony a grateful look, and then headed back to the table.

Natasha and Bruce were still there when he took a seat, the assassin offering him one of her rare smiles. "Tony rescued you."

"You can say that again. The woman's husband just passed away and…" Steve trailed off and then shook his head, unable to think of a polite way to word any of the things running through his head.

"Women. They can be a lot of trouble," Bruce said, and then added, looking to Natasha, "No offense to present company."

She nodded. "None taken."

"When is Clint coming back?" Steve ventured.

"Tomorrow night. Fury sent him to assist with a matter of some importance in Pakistan," Natasha said between sips of her champagne, "We will hear the full report on Monday should further assistance be required."

"Business as usual then."

A small commotion on the dance floor interrupted any further conversation, and Steve was up out of his seat when he saw Thor lifting and carrying an unconscious Darcy toward the exit, Jane following close behind.

Pushing his way through the crowd his caught up to them in the Silver Corridor, Darcy coming to as Thor settled her into a chair. Jane fanned the younger woman with a hand.

"What happened?" Steve asked, crouching down at Darcy's side.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts, then gasped, going pale. "Oh God." She waved her hands at him, then at Jane, sputtering.

"What happened?" he repeated, taking one of her hands. She squeezed it.

"Oh God, oh God, oh my God! He asked me for my phone number and I just – freaked out. I fainted. I - just made a complete idiot of myself in front of Peter Facinelli!" Darcy fell back in the chair and covered her face with her hands. Steve looked to Thor for help but the god just grinned and patted Darcy on the arm.

"He was likely flattered, that he made a maiden such as yourself swoon at his request!"

"Don't. Call me. Maiden." came Darcy's muffled reply, followed by a choked sound.

"Darcy. Let's get you back to Tony's place and you can get out of this dress and get some sleep. How does that sound?" Jane asked, snatching the neatly folded handkerchief from Thor's tuxedo pocket and handing it to the now-sniffling woman.

Darcy nodded, snatching the handkerchief and blowing her nose into it, then dabbed at her smeared mascara. She glanced at Steve and blushed. "Sorry I'm such a rotten date. Here you were nice enough to bring me and I go off and-"

"It's okay," Steve assured her, not wanting to say anything that might further upset her. "You were having a good time before, at least I hope so. That's all I wanted."

"I was. Thanks again for – well, for everything you've done tonight." Darcy blew her nose again, then rose from her chair, taking Steve's hand when he offered to help her up. "If it's alright with you, I think I need to call it a night."

"Of course. Would you like me to escort you back to Stark Tower?"

"Thor and I can take her back if you want to stay," Jane offered.

Thor nodded in agreement. "Yes, we were almost ready to return as well. We can see Darcy safely to her lodgings."

"I can go with Jane and Thor. Don't let me ruin the rest of your evening." Darcy took hold of Thor's arm and slipped off her pumps. "These shoes are killing me…"

"I was about ready to go home myself," Steve answered truthfully. "I think I've had enough dancing and social interaction for one night. I'll tell Tony we're going, the head out."

Thor, Darcy, and Jane headed for the door and Steve turned to go back to the ballroom, then hesitated.

"Hey, Jane, can I ask you a favor?"

Jane paused, at the door as Thor helped Darcy out, then came back. "Sure, what is it?..."

A few moments later Jane followed her boyfriend and friend out, and Steve headed back toward the ballroom, a small piece of paper folded into his hand.

He had his good nights to say to his fellow Avengers, and a movie star to pass a telephone number to on behalf of Darcy before he could go home and sleep.


	3. Chapter 2: Favors & Bombs

_Author's Note: Thank you for all the follows and favorites! Sorry this chapter is shorter than the last one. I hope everyone is enjoying so far. Comments and reviews are appreciated, but certainly not required. _

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**Chapter 2: Favors and Bombs…**

Two days later, Tony approached Steve in the workout room of Stark Tower. It had become a regular thing for all of them to meet and train together early in the morning, and Steve was glad for the opportunity to have somewhere he could go exercise that wasn't a city gym; his one and only attempt to workout at such a place hadn't gone well when every attempt to use the weights was thwarted by bodybuilders wanting to ask questions, and his time on every piece of cardio equipment was punctuated by regular interruptions of women coming by to flirt with him.

"Cap, I've got a favor to ask you," Tony said, holding up his hands when Steve opened his mouth to interrupt, "and I promise you it doesn't involve a suit and tie or a date this time."

"What do you want or need me to do?"

"I need someone reliable to deliver the funding checks to the hospitals tomorrow afternoon, plus it'd be a real bonus if you'd go suited up in your red-white-and-blue to take the toys Stark Industries is giving to the kids in the Pediatrics Ward. It's one thing to get a something for Christmas; it's another to have somebody like Captain America bring it. I'm rich and famous, but even I can't get a decent Santa Claus. The guy I had take the presents in last year looked more like Danny Davito than Good Ol' Saint Nic."

Steve nodded, adding another weight to his stack. "I can do that. Which hospitals are they going to?"

"One check goes to Lenox Hill, the other check and the toys go to St. Luke's." Tony glanced around the room. "I figured I'd catch you here before everyone else showed up, since you're always the first one to get here, Mr. Punctual. Didn't want you to think I was backing you into a corner with this one by putting you on the spot in front of the team."

"Bruce refuses to start the day without his coffee," Steve acknowledged, taking his seat and starting up a set of lat pulls.

"Actually, it's a white chocolate mocha, and here's your caramel macchiato, Toni." Bruce smiled at them as he entered, balancing his gym bag on an arm as he held the drinks out in front of him."

"Thanks Bruce. You still up for looking over those schematics after we're done here? I think the problem is with the placement of the conductors…"

Steve went back to focusing on his reps as the conversation turned technical and scientific, both unable and unwilling to try to process that level of talk before nine 'o'clock am.

Natasha, Thor, and Maria joined them not long after, and they worked through almost an hour and a half of vigorous circuit of weight and cardio intervals, then they split into pairs to spar with one another. As usual, Tony and Bruce teamed up, as did Natasha and Maria, leaving Steve and Thor to work together.

Steve was also grateful that, at hand to hand combat, he and Thor were well matched. Without his suit Tony was strong but Steve was always worried that one badly placed punch and he might damage the arc reactor, regardless of how many times Tony told him not to worry. Steve had the same worry of hurting Bruce when he wasn't in his alter form, and he simply still had a problem with throwing punches and kicks at a woman, though both Natasha and Maria had taken full advantage of that more than once to drop him to his rear when they'd been paired on rare occasions and he'd hesitated to make a move.

He and Thor went several rounds, practicing both strikes and blocks, then disarming techniques, before they took a break and stood off to the side to watch the others.

"Jane's worried about you," Steve said, glancing at the god as they leaned against the wall next to Tony's high-tech water dispensing system.

"Aye, I know it. I do not mean to cause her to be." Thor refilled his glass a second time and downed it before continuing. "I am away too much, but I have yet to find a means to search Muspelheim or Jotunheim without causing political unrest or without angering my father."

"Yeah, Jane and I talked about that too. It would be a lot easier if Odin would just tell you."

"There is a purpose for everything the All-Father does." Thor paused. "I must trust this. It is this same wisdom that showed me the faults of my ways, that tested me, and that allowed me to return to Asgard."

Steve kept his thoughts about Odin to himself and was glad when Tony, who had managed to botch a block and was put down on his back on the mat by Bruce, threw up his hands and called to break for the day.

"Right, so who wants Shawarma?"

* * *

After lunch the group headed to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters for their usual Monday meeting; Clint was already there, having missed out on the morning workout to go over his recent mission with Nick Fury.

They spent the better part of the afternoon discussing the details of what Clint had discovered while he'd been in Pakistan, his hit on a known terrorist landing them a briefcase full of documents and files that Fury's agents were working hard to uncrack and decode as they spoke.

"From everything I heard before I shot him, there's some way he was smuggling weapons into the United States, and whoever is aiding him is a U.S. citizen that they think our radar won't pick up on."

"Well they thought wrong." Fury looked around the table at the Avengers. "In most cases our particular skill sets are saved for bigger things than this, but we've caught wind that one of the incoming weapons to America is more than just smuggled truckloads of assault rifles and rocket launchers."

Directing their attention to one screen, the director pulled up a design plan for a small device. "What you're looking at, Avengers, is a nuclear bomb the size of a football. One of these things could take out a third of the city, if not more. We're still not sure what technology was used to put one of these together, but we do know that a shipment of these bombs is set to arrive on U.S. soil sometime next week, possibly on Christmas Eve. What we need to do is find out where, how, why, and who is responsible for smuggling these weapons in, before we have a full-scale attack happening that might have been prevented."

"Do we have any leads on where to start?" Steve asked as both Tony and Bruce got out of their chairs to get a closer look at the weapon plans, and Natasha and Clint started whispering between themselves.

"Yes, this is why you'll all be assigned a location to patrol and key individuals to be on the lookout for in each of those places. Captain, you'll be patrolling JFK International Airport with Stark, while Natasha and Clint cover Grand Central Station, and Thor and Bruce will take the harbor." Fury shot Steve a look. "This is coming at a bad time with the holidays here. Every piece of luggage, every shopping bag, every gift-wrapped box could contain one of these bombs. We need to nip this one in the bud and fast."

* * *

The following day, Steve's made the delivery to Lenox Hill Hospital first, then went to St. Luke's, care of the transportation Tony had arranged for him. The limo was packed with toys and the appointed assistants that the billionaire had sent with the cargo, each man and woman dressed up like a elf. For once Steve didn't feel so conspicuous wearing his uniform out around civilians in modern day New York.

The Pediatrics Floor at St. Luke's was abuzz about the arrival of both the Christmas gifts and their famous guest, and several children had gathered in the hall on foot, in wheelchair, or assisted by a family member or nurse to greet Steve as he exited the elevator with the elf assistants and sacks of toys.

This was more Steve's style than going to glamorous events, and he made sure to take time to say hello to each child and hand deliver their toy to them, and was rewarded with bright smiles and enthusiastic hugs, each of which warmed him to the core. The few parents that were there with their kids thanked him repeatedly both for being there and for everything he'd done for the city and their country, praise that never failed to humble him.

It was nearly two hours later when he'd finished with the Pediatrics Floor, but two gifts remained at the bottom of one bag. Checking the names on the tags with the nurse on duty at the desk he was directed to go down to the Intensive Care unit where the last two children were located.

Taking the last two toys, Steve dismissed Tony's assistants, assuring them he could make the last deliveries by himself, then he took the elevator down to the second floor as directed.

The atmosphere of the Intensive Care unit was the polar opposite of the Pediatrics Floor; where upstairs had been bright and cheerful and filled with laughter, the noise level in the ICU was almost non-existent save for the hum and beeping of machines and monitors.

Approaching that floor's desk he made quiet inquiry with the nurse there about where he could locate the children he had gifts for.

"You won't be able to go in and see them," she said glancing over their charts, "The girl is sleeping right now, got out of her fourth surgery today, and the boy is still in a coma. You can see them through the observation windows if you'd like, and we can tell them that you came by personally to give them these." She nodded at the toys. "We also need to be sure those are sterile before we take those in."

"Of course."

"The nurse rose from her place behind the desk, sighing as she made her way around and led him down the hall toward the first room. Looking inside Steve could see the small girl asleep, looking peaceful.

"Poor dear, they keep thinking they've got the cancer but it keeps coming back. The doctors weren't sure she'd make it but she keeps pulling through." Motioning for him to follow her she led him a little further to the second child, the boy in this room swathed in bandages on his arms and head. "This one is just a tragedy. Brought in from one of the homeless shelters last month."

Steve ventured to speak after getting over his initial reaction of how bad the boy looked. "What happened to him?"

"Beaten by two grown men who were also staying at the shelter. All for twenty dollars, would you believe it?" She shook her head again. "I would have been a lot worse if someone hadn't stepped in. The boy probably would have been killed otherwise, and that poor man who saved him. He's even worse off than the boy." The nurse glanced across the hall at the window of the opposite room. "John Doe's still in a coma too. Blunt force trauma to the head, broken ribs, I can't even remember the rest…"

Steve followed her gaze, then did a double take, unable to keep his jaw from dropping open.

In the room beyond, lying on the hospital bed amid a tangle of tubes and wires, was Loki.


	4. Chapter 3: Answers & Questions

_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone that has made this story a favorite and that is following it. And now without further ado, the next chapter my dears, now with more Loki. Sort of._

_Oh yes, and I own nothing but the nurse and Charlie. Everything else is Marvel's, clearly. Hence why this is on fanfiction and not fictionpress._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Answers & Questions**

Steve went to the observation window and took another good, hard look at the man lying unconscious on the other side of the glass, wanting to be wrong that it wasn't the enemy that he'd fought over three years prior, but there was no mistaking who it was.

Not that Loki looked exactly as he had the last time he'd seen him; that day that Thor had taken him back to Asgard in shackles and muzzled the god had been cut and bruised from battle and in no little part from his encounter with the Hulk, but overall he'd been in pretty good shape for someone that had spent hours be pummeled by the Avengers.

The Loki he saw now however was thinner, far paler if that was even possible. _Frail_ came to Steve's mind, and he shook his head, blinking against the glare of the hospital lights as he tried to get a better look into the room.

"Is something the matter?"

The nurse, who he had temporarily forgotten was still standing there, was watching him with keen interest. Steve glanced back at Loki, then at her, hesitating before he spoke.

"It's just I… I know him."

Her face lit up, and Steve's stomach fell, realizing he'd just given the woman hope for a man she viewed as a victim and a patient.

"Oh, that's – wonderful! If you could give us a positive identification of who he is, if we have his medical history we could help him more, if we could contact his family – you aren't related to him, are you?"

"Wha – no, no nothing like that." Steve paused, mulling over what he could say, then shook his head. "There's not really much I can tell you, he's… he's not from around here. He's from – he's from another country."

"His name at least, so we know what to call him."

"It's- " Steve's mind raced at his searched for a name, any name. "—James. James Barnes. " He swallowed hard against the traitorous lump that was forming in his throat, praying silently that up in heaven Bucky would forgive him for using his name for an intergalactic terrorist.

_What the hell am I doing? _Steve looked back at Loki again as the nurse scurried back to her station to get the patient chart and change the name from John Doe. Every part of him knew what the right thing to do was; go directly and immediately to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters and tell Director Fury where Loki was. He had to go to S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Blunt force trauma to the head. four broken ribs, broken left arm, lacerations to the head, neck, shoulders, and back." The nurse, Gloria (Steve took a moment to actually look at her name tag as she approached him again) held the chart up, reading. She looked up at Steve, her expression grim again. "He's fortunate to be alive. The doctors didn't think he'd make it the night after they operated but he's a fighter. Been in a coma ever since, just like the boy. They both took a beating, the worst of it to their heads."

"You said the boy was attacked… and he, James," Steve stumbled over the use of his friend's name for Loki again, "He stepped in?"

Gloria nodded. "Saved him. Tried to pull him away and when that didn't work he threw himself down on top of the boy and took the rest of the beating from those monsters. Like I said, the boy likely would have been killed otherwise."

"And this happened at a homeless shelter? Which one?"

"Bowery Mission on Bowery Street." She glanced at the chart again. Can you give us any information on his family? Who we can contact?"

Steve had the mental image of Thor unceremoniously bursting into the ICU to reclaim his brother, and shook his head. The last thing the hospital needed was an overzealous Asgardian. "I – no, nothing."

"Oh... well. Can we put you down as his emergency contact then, since you know him? Right now all we have down is the shelter."

"I-" Steve hesitated, then relented when he saw her expectant look. "Yes."

He gave her his number and address, uneasiness and guilt increasingly gnawing at him. If what Gloria was telling him was correct, Loki, known enemy of earth, had been staying in a homeless shelter and had willingly saved a child. He'd been injured in a fight with two humans, badly injured enough that he was in the hospital, which seemed to confirm what little Thor had told him of the terms of Loki's banishment. If the god really was without his powers, if he really had been made mortal…

There were too many questions now, and while duty demanded that Steve turn the information he now had over to his superiors, there was a quiet, rebellious part of him, that same stubborn streak that had driven him to run headlong into enemy territory to save his fellow offers decades before, demanded that he learn more about the situation and the man he'd just unwittingly gone out of his way to protect and help with a borrowed name and his own contact information before handing him over to Fury.

"We'll call you if there's any change to your friend," Gloria patted his arm, and Steve again swallowed against the lump in his throat as he took his leave of the ICU. He had answers to go find, and he needed to find them fast.

* * *

The Mission on Bowery Street was crowded, the cold December weather having driven many of New York's homeless to find any available place for warmth, food, and shelter. Steve felt a pang of empathy for the people he passed as he made his way through the halls toward the main office, the crowded headed for an evening meal and the following Chapel service.

Inside the office Steve took a seat, waiting patiently for the Mission director, who he'd called ahead of time to meet, while the secretary typed silently at her computer.

He didn't have to wait long until the, Mr. Higdon, the Mission's director, returned from the cafeteria, greeting him with a firm handshake and invited him to follow him down to one of the storage rooms to retrieve the few belongings Loki had that they'd held onto.

"I'm glad someone is able to help Mr. Doe. Strange man, never gave us his name so we just called him John Doe at first, as a joke, but he didn't seem to get it, and the name stuck. He didn't deserve what happened. We were under the impression there was no one in the city or even in the state that he knew." Mr. Higdon opened the storage door and searched around inside for a moment, then returned with a small box. "Not much here, but if he wakes up, he'll probably want it. He was sure protective of his books. Never cared when any of his clothes or other things went missing, but if a book was gone, look out."

"Can you tell me what happened, Mr. Higdon, about the boy and what happened?" Steve asked as they returned to the office.

"I didn't see it happen, got there just in time to call the men off with some of the other staff. These things happen sometimes, terrible when they do, and we don't condone it. Violence isn't God's way, and here we strive to promote the Lord's word and work among the residents and those who come to take a meal."

"Of course. It's a fine thing you're doing here, helping people in need," Steve offered, seeing the weariness in the other man's expression as he paused. Mr. Higdon nodded, setting the box down on an empty chair.

"It's hard work but the Lord was clear in how we should treat the less fortunate."

"And Mr... Mr. Doe, did he ever cause any trouble?"

"No, nothing. Aside the time he spent with the boy, he kept to himself."

"The same boy in the hospital, the one he saved?"

"The same boy, yes." Mr. Higdon opened the box and tilted it toward Steve to show him the books, a shirt, and a handful of newspaper clippings. "Like I said, there's not a lot here. He didn't keep much, and he didn't talk much, except to the boy, Charlie. They showed up at the Mission together about two months ago. It was mid-October when it started getting cold at night. This is the time of year we get the most people at the shelter. At first we thought they were father and son, the way Mr. Doe kept a close eye on him and the way Charlie stayed close to him, but eventually we learned they'd stumbled across one another. It happens sometimes with the homeless, making a friend and keeping to it, since there's safety in numbers. Especially for the kids."

Steve picked up a newspaper clipping from the box, recognizing the headline dated from July and the picture. "City's Finest Crime Fighters Show Up For 4th Of July Celebration." He and the other Avengers stood together in front of Times Square in the picture, a promotional stint that Fury had pushed them to make for the past three years. Glancing over the other clippings he saw that all of them had to do with the team. All of the clippings were from the past three years since the battle, which made Steve frown. If Loki had been locked away all that time and only on earth for a short time, he'd had to go out of his way to gather the articles. Apparently their old foe hadn't lost interest in them, and that made him more than a little concerned.

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" Steve asked, closing up the box and tucking it under an arm.

"While he didn't go out of his way to interact with the other residents, Mr. Doe did utilize our residential recovery programs. He showed an interest in the continuing education opportunities, even some curiosity in the employment skills training, though he was dubious at first." Mr. Higdon shook his head. "He never took well to our faith-based messages and teachings though. We tried to encourage him to attend Chapel and our Sunday services, but he made it clear that he had no interest. Even went so far once as to call the belief in a single God the height of human vanity, but we get all kinds here, at all stages in life. He seemed to be quite angry with God."

Steve thought a moment about what Thor had told him about Odin, then nodded. "Yeah, something like that. Is there anything else you can tell me about what happened, about the fight, or the men that were involved?""

"The two men that instigated the attack are still being held at the 9th Precinct. Somehow they caught wind that Charlie had some money. My guess is they were after it for some drugs or alcohol and things took a turn for the worst. Other than that, I don't know anything that could be of any use to you. Anyone that saw what happened isn't talking. That's how it is here. No one wants to be the one that gets labeled as a tell-all. It can turn bad for anyone that does. Like I said, we teach the Lord's word and work here, but sometimes it takes a while for it to sink in. Some of these men and women, they've had a hard life. They've got hardness in their hearts."

"I understand." Steve held out his free hand to Mr. Higdon. "Thank you for your time, sir,"

"Of course, Captain. Wish I could give you more information, but like I said, he kept to himself mostly. It's the least I can do, try and give you some answers, when you've done so much for our city and our country. My father used to talk about World War II, even mentioned you a couple times. Those were hard times. Still hard times today, just in different ways."

"No need to thank me. Just doing my duty for my country, sir."

Steve took his leave, the box of Loki's things in arm, and any intent he'd had to go to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters that day after he'd finished up at the shelter were momentarily put on hiatus, as it was already dark by the time he stepped outside and he had no desire to go back and deal with Fury with this kind of news when he wanted nothing more than to go home, have dinner, and get some sleep.

* * *

Sleep evaded Steve that night after he'd turned out the lights and crawled into bed. Guilt still nagged at him, and after two hours of tossing and turning he rose again and went back into the living room, turning the television on low to some old Spaghetti Western film while he did sit ups on the floor, then several push ups.

After he grew tired of the exercise he sat on the sofa, flipping absently through the television channels until he ran across the old Laurel and Hardy "Babes In Toyland" and was hit with a wave of intense nostalgia. As the comedic duo danced to" The March Of The Toys", Steve sighed and glanced around the small apartment, his eyes falling on the box he'd left on the coffee table.

Pulling it closer to where he sat he opened it and looked inside, glancing through the newspaper clippings once more time, then pulled out the books and looked over the titles. Tattered hardback editions of Machavelli's _The Prince_, _The Collected Works of William Shakespeare_, and paperback copies of Baudelaire's _The Flowers Of Evil_ and Victor Hugo's _Les Misérables_, the pages of all these worn, stained, and several pages were dog-eared. Lastly there was a small, unblemished copy of The New Testament, which Steve noticed bore a small stamp on the front cover that he recognized from the logo from the Bowery Mission. Apparently Loki had never even cracked the spine to take a look at what in contained.

As he returned the books to the box Steve dropped _The Flowers Of Evil, _and a few loose pieces of paper and a photograph slipped from its pages onto the floor. He picked them up, glancing first at the papers, which were covered in strange symbols that he couldn't understand but seemed to make works in another language. Setting the pages in the box with the book he picked up the fallen picture and turned it over, his lips parting with a small sound of surprise.

It was a snapshot taken at the Bowery Mission, in the same hallway Steve had walked down that day. In the background were harvest decorations, paper pumpkins and scarecrows taped up on the wall, and in the foreground of the picture were Charlie, a small plastic sandwich bag of Halloween candy in one hand, and his arm thrown around the shoulders of Loki, who knelt down at his side. Both the god and the boy looked contented, the latter smiling at the camera. The pose was so relaxed, the expression on Loki's face so unlike how Steve had seen him before, that all he could do was gape at the picture for several minutes. During their fights the man had looked crazed, filled with a desperate need to conquer and destroy, but none of that was evident in the man in the photograph. Loki looked almost relaxed, almost happy, through something in his eyes remained distant, unfocused.

Finally Steve squinted at the picture, holding it closer and up in the light to study it in detail, trying to figure out what else was amiss; and after a moment he realized that there were strange markings around the god's mouth, discoloration and scars along the lip line. Other faint scar lines peaked from the collar of Loki's shirt and upturned sleeves revealed more of the same along his forearms. The picture was clearly from before he and the boy had been attacked, but Loki's thinness and at least some of the damage he'd seen in the hospital earlier that day, had come from sometime before.

Dropping the picture into the box along with the rest of the contents, Steve realized he'd gained a few answers that day, but now he had more questions than before. Unfortunately the two people to have any of the information he was looking for now were both still in a coma.


	5. Chapter 4: Lies & Promises

_Author's Note: Another chapter! My thanks again to everyone for reading and continuing to have an interest in this story. I hope it's proving to be worthwhile to you all._

_For those eager for new chapters, I wanted to give fair warning that most of these will come during the weekdays, as weekends is when my work schedule is the most terrifyingly jam packed all day. _

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the Nurse _Patrice_, Nurse Patience and Charlie. Everything else is Marvel's._

* * *

**Chapter 4: Lies & Promises**

"Hey Cap, thanks again for taking care of those checks and everything."

Steve glanced at Tony, both men working to set up the gym equipment for their usual group workout routine. "It was nothing." He kept to himself that of course it hadn't been, that it's turned into something else entirely beyond anything he could have thought of.

"Yeah, well it sure saved my ass." Tony made a face. "I'd promised Pepper I'd go to some hoity-toity party one of her friends was throwing and it created a time conflict. Trust me, I'd have rather gone to the hospitals than listen to a bunch of people stand around and talk about foreign policy and what's playing On and Off Broadway right now."

A knot formed in Steve's stomach as Tony continued to talk about the party, the soldier's mind playing out what might have happened if it had been Tony and not himself that had gone into the Intensive Care Unit the day before and seen Loki there. Would Tony have gone directly to S.H.I.E.L.D. as he still hadn't done, or would he have gone looking for answers as well? What would any of the other team members have done, put into that situation?...

"Hey, earth to Captain America, come in Captain." Tony snapped fingers in front of Steve's face, and he blinked, brought out of his own thoughts.

"Sorry, I just… I was thinking."

"Must have been a pretty interesting thought. I lost you there."

Steve shrugged, trying to play it off. "All those kids at the hospital, some of them are so sick… I just, it made me appreciate how health I am, but I also realized how incredible they really are, you know? They don't have the added advantage of being a super soldier. That's all them, their bravery and strength. They didn't get any of that from an experiment."

"Yeah, kids are really something." Tony tossed a medicine ball to him. "Don't think I ever want any of my own, I don't need to go spreading my genes all over the place in munchkin forms of me. I'm already too much man for the world to handle."

"I've always wanted kids, someday," Steve admitted, tossing the ball from one hand to the other. "Whenever I settle down, get married, retire from military life."

"Oh oh oh, don't let Fury catch wind of you talking like that unless you him to give you the Evil Eye," Tony warned. "I don't think the word 'retire' is in the S.H.I.E.L.D. vocabulary. Either you die off in battle or you pass away in your sleep at a ripe old age still in the service."

Steve fell quiet and finished setting up the training circuit, Tony's astute observation of Fury's character doing nothing to help settle his nerves about the situation with Loki.

Before long Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Maria, and Thor showed up, and they started their training. Thor's presence only increased Steve's nervousness and made his ability to focus almost non-existent to the point that he lost count of his own reps more than once and dropping the medicine ball at one point when Natasha tried to pass it to him.

Hand-to-hand practice didn't prove any better, teamed up against the Asgardian as usual. He found himself face down on the mat twice, and almost fell back down when, giving him a hand up, Thor casually observed, "You fight as well as my brother today, Captain."

"- What do you mean?"

Thor laughed as they went over to the water dispensary to rehydrate. "Fighting in this manner, it never suited Loki. When our weapons master or our father would match us against one another, it always ended in the same way. He fell again and again under my blows, much like you today, as if a light wind would be sufficient to put you off your feet."

"I didn't sleep well last night," Steve murmured, thinking back to box of Loki's things still sitting on his coffee table. He paused, then added, glancing at Thor again, "For someone who lost as much as you're telling me, he sure was hell-bent on taking over a whole planet."

Thor frowned. "In our boyhood and even as grown men, the All-Father never allowed the use of my brother's magic in our rounds with one another. When Loki tried to take Asgard, when he tried to take Midgard, he relied on those abilities more than on physical strength. You remember, Captain, he relied upon the strength of numbers of the Chitauri and not only on himself."

"That's true." Steve fell silent as they watched Tony, Clint, and Bruce took turns blocking punches and kicks thrown by both the women, Clint earning a well-placed boot to the gut when his eyes momentarily strayed from Natasha's limbs and to more buxom areas of her anatomy.

Eventually they broke for the afternoon, the group outvoting Tony's bid for more Shawarma in favor of a Mexican restaurant a few blocks up. Steve took his leave of them, despite both Bruce and Clint''s attempts to coerce him into joining them.

"Sorry guys, I made other plans."

"Hot lunch date?" Clint ventured, and Tony snorted, whapping the archer on the back of the head as he passed by.

"Probably got to go pick up the dry cleaning and pay the utility bill, right Cap?" The billionaire grinned at him. "Far be it from our fearless leader to be running off after some tail in the middle of the day."

"Yeah, right – no." Steve avoided their gazes as he gathered up his things to head for the small locker room to shower. "Actually I was – I was thinking of heading to one of the art museums for the afternoon."

"See, I told you, no tail today unless staring at one of Picasso's lopsided ladies counts." Tony laughed as he exited the gym, and Clint shrugged, murmuring, "Have it your way" as he disappeared with Bruce, Thor, and the ladies to head for the restaurant.

* * *

The afternoon found Steve back at the hospital again and not at the museum like he'd lied about, drawn back to the ICU where he met a younger woman named Patrice, and not Gloria behind the nurse's station.

"No change in either of the patients, I'm afraid," she said, "But Gloria left me a note to tell you that she spoke with the doctors after you'd left, and you've been given clearance to go in and see Mr. Barnes if you'd like."

"Oh, I… that's…" Steve stumbled over his own words, unsure of what to say, and she gave him a sympathetic look. "I know some friends and family get upset, seeing their loved ones and not being able to help them when they're so badly injured, but it Gloria thought it might do some good, for you to go in and see him."

"I'm not family," Steve protested, but Patrice just patted his hand and went back to her charts, adding, "There's no risk of infection with Mr. Barnes, so you can go right in. Visiting hours are until 5pm, and if the doctors need to do anything, they'll just come in and ask you to step out."

Steve stood there helpless for a minute, then headed almost mechanically down the hall to Loki's room.

Stepping inside he hesitated again at the door and looked at the unconscious man, taking in the sight of the bandages, the healing cuts, and the IV lines and wires running from the bed to their various machines. The slow but steady beeping of the heart monitor punctuated the silence, and at last Steve moved the lone chair positioned beside the wall over to the bedside and sat down.

He studied Loki's face, grimacing as he took closer note of the damage he'd had a small glimpse of through the observation glass and in the photograph he's found. Multiple scars rimmed the man's mouth, and Steve could tell from the coloration and the way they ran in layers over the skin in a strange, almost crisscross pattern that some were newer than others, as if the damage wrought there had taken place over an extensive amount of time. As to what kind of thing could cause that kind of damage, he had no clue.

He looked at Loki's arms, and up close he could see the marks there were also layered, and his stomach turned when he realized that several of these seemed consistent in their width and shape to whip markings, while other appeared to be inflicted by a blade.

He made an audible sound of shock when his eyes strayed to Loki's hands, where intense scarring around the wrists with intermixed with patches of smooth, shiny skin and rougher, discolored areas that ran up along the backs of his knuckles and fingers. Someone had burned him, the skin likely bubbling and then healing unevenly to leave behind marks of that fashion. Steve's stomach churned as he recalled some of the horrors he had seen both in pictures and in person of people that had gone to the Nazi death camps. The tortures, the mutilations, all things he had once never imagined possible for the human race to dream up and inflict on others. It was more than a little clear now, however, that it wasn't just humanity that dreamed up or inflicted that kind of thing on living beings…

A long while passed while Steve tried to gather his thoughts and his rather tumultuous emotions; at last he spoke, his voice low and his words slow.

"I don't know what happened, or why you're here, not really," he began, hoping that maybe Gloria was right and something of what was said to the man would reach him in spite of the coma. "Thor told us a little, but… he never said anything about this. He never said you'd been injured like this, and I – I don't think four months on earth is enough for all of this to have happened. In fact I know it isn't."

Loki continued to lay there, motionless and unresponsive. Steve continued. "I don't want you to think that this means I trust you, because I don't. You tried to take over the world, you tried to kill me and my team members, and that's inexcusable. But I do want you to know that I've heard about what you did for that kid, for Charlie… I know you didn't do anything wrong at the homeless shelter, and it looks like, aside from stalking the team's whereabouts and deeds through old newspaper clippings, you haven't done anything wrong since you got here."

Steve paused, laughing though the sound was strained. "This sounds crazy, and it _is_ crazy, but because of that I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt until I know everything there is to know. I'm going against everything I'm told to do as a soldier and I'm not turning you over to Fury just yet, because while I believe in following orders I also believe in doing what's right. Handing you over when you're like this just feels wrong. So until I find out exactly what's happened and what's going on, and I'm going to do my best to find out everything, I'm going to keep both you and Charlie a secret. I'm going out on a limb here by going with my gut about you and the kid. I just hope you don't go do anything to prove me wrong if and when you wake up. Because the minute that you do, I'll take you into Fury without a hesitation. That's a promise."

Steve fell silent, looking over Loki's scars again, and on impulse reached out and carefully took his hand, then turned it over. He grimaced when he saw that the burn marks also covered his palm and the insides of his fingers. "I think there's a lot Thor hasn't told us yet, and I'm going to find out what that might be," he added, "Or if he even knew. If he did, I – I know we sent you back to your home for trial, but I don't think any of us meant for something like this to happen. I don't condone the things you've done, but I don't condone torture either. I don't believe in letting anyone be bullied and hurt, not even someone like you."

He put Loki's hand back down on the blanket and rose from his seat. Going to the door he paused, looking back. "Charlie's in the room across from you. I know the kid must mean something to you so I thought maybe you'd want to know. And if all this leads to me finding out that there's nothing up, if you're not here to hurt anyone or do anything wrong, then – I'll do what I can to help you and the kid. You can count on that as a promise too."

As Steve exited the ICU, Patrice moved out from behind her desk to follow him. "Captain, if you don't mind, is there any chance you have any information about the boy too?"

"No ma'am, I'm afraid I don't."

Patrice sighed and looked down at the boy's chart in her hands. "Seems that 'Charlie' was the only name they had on file at the shelter and it's a real as 'John Doe' was."

"If I find out anything, I'll be sure the hospital is the first place I contact," Steve said, and he meant it.

Leaving St. Luke's, Steve climbed onto his motorcycle and headed back downtown toward Bowery Mission again, set on searching for more answers. He'd asked about Loki the day before, but now his mind was set on finding out what he could about 'Charlie' . Maybe then he'd find more answers than questions this time.


	6. Chapter 5: All Work & No Play

_Author's Note: Here we go with another chapter; my apologies it's taken a couple days for this one, again the work schedule is something fierce over the weekend, but I am headed toward more free time now. Also, this was a doozy to work some details out in, but should launch us toward more exciting things in the following chapters! Thanks again for reading, and for those waiting patiently, I promise the next chapter will have a __**lot**__ more Loki. _

_Warning: this one has some coarse language and mentions of child sexual abuse._

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the hospital staff, the Bowery Mission staff, random low-lifes, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. Also, the excerpt from __The Flowers Of Evil__ belongs to Charles Baudelaire, the excerpt from __Les Misérables__ belongs to Victor Hugo; both of these words are public domain._

* * *

**Chapter 5: All Work & No Play...**

Steve's trip to Bowery Mission to speak with Mr. Higdon again provided him with nothing.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much about Charlie other than he came to the Mission with Mr. Doe." Mr. Higdon scratched his head for a moment, thoughtful. "If anything comes up I'll be sure to contact you, Captain, but I'm out of anything else for you right now."

"That's alright. Thanks again for your time."

He returned home for the evening, more than a little frustrated the he seemed to have run into a dead ended where Charlie was concerned.

That night Steve had his second bout of insomnia, and he returned to his reluctant place in the living room, the television turned low on re-runs of The Twilight Zone while he looked through the box of Loki's things again. After browsing through the clippings, all the articles and pictures familiar as he'd read them when they'd come out in the newspapers and magazines, he picked up the copy of _The Flowers Of Evil_. Flipping through the pages, he realized some of the passages were neatly underlined in pencil, and paused when one in particular stood out from the others, not only underlined, but circled several times.

_My childhood was nought but a ravaging storm,  
Enlivened at times by a brilliant sun;  
The rain and the winds wrought such havoc and harm  
That of buds on my plot there remains hardly one._

_Behold now the Fall of ideas I have reached,  
And the shovel and rake one must therefore resume,  
In collecting the turf, inundated and breached,  
Where the waters dug trenches as deep as a tomb._

And yet these new blossoms, for which I craved,  
Will they find in this earth—like a shore that is laved—  
The mystical fuel which vigour imparts?

Steve paused, then reached into the box and took out the other books, flipping through them in turn and noting that each of them had underlined sections in the same neat pencil marks, and a few had more of that strange, foreign script he's found before written in the margins next to the underlined portions.

Clearly the books had meant something to Loki; he'd obviously been reading them, studying them, marking and making notes in them.

Setting the books aside, he reached into the box again and his fingertips brushed against the shirt still folded to one side. Steve lifted it out on impulse, looking it over. It was a simple button-down shirt in hunter green, but a sleeve was torn, two buttons missing at the top of the neckline dark, and there was a small, dark stain on the front. Dried blood, was it Loki's?

Shifting the fabric Steve he heard a soft, papery sound in the front pocket and stopped, then slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and took out a small slip of paper, an address written in quick, childish scrawl, and the name 'Charlie' written beneath it.

Steve felt a small surge of elation at the discovery, glad to have found at least one possible lead to follow.

* * *

The next morning Steve called Tony to let him know he'd be absent from the usual workout routine. Tony whistled at him through the phone.

"Late night, Cap?"

"Yeah, but not from anything you're probably thinking. I've been having trouble sleeping. Might go see someone about it."

"Alright. Let us know if you need anything, alright?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks Tony."

Hanging up the phone Steve paused to take a breath and leaned his head against the refrigerator. He'd never missed a day of working out with the team since they'd started the daily ritual. Routine was Steve's life, and here he was, willingly altering it, and for what? He closed his eyes, and the image first of Charlie, then Loki, both lying unconscious in their hospital beds came to him, and hardened his resolve.

He left his apartment and after stopping by the New York City Public Library and getting a reference librarian to help him track down the location for the address he found, Steve found himself heading for the east side of the city. As he steered his motorcycle down the narrowing streets the buildings around him went from old, to dilapidated, crumbling walls and doors boarded over.

His destination, as he pulled up alongside the curb, was an old apartment building; graffiti covered the brick walls, several windows broken and covered over with yellowing newspaper and fabric. At one window on the second floor Steve saw a few small faces pressed to the dirty pane, faces that disappeared when he waved.

Going up to the front doorway, Steve knocked on the door and waited. After a few moments he heard heavy footfalls and shouting, then quiet. Locks on the other side were drawn, several from the sound of it, and the door creaked open a few inches, a middle-aged, rough looking man peering out at him.

"What do you want?"

Steve hesitated. "I found this address-"

"On a bathroom wall? Or did a friend pass it to you? Get in here."

The man opened the door further and stepped aside, motioning hastily for Steve to enter, then shut the door behind him. The hallway inside was dark, dimly lit by a single light bulb, and all around there was the scent of must, sweat, and something else Steve couldn't put a word to. The man smiled, an unfriendly smile, and uneasiness filled Steve as he followed him into the first room that opened up on their right.

There was a desk, a lamp and television, a sofa and a single file cabinet. The man pointed a finger at the wall next to them, and Steve started, faced with several Polaroid shots of children, boys and girls of several ages, pinned up in rows from what appeared to be youngest to oldest.

"What are you looking for? I've got any kind you're looking for, almost any age. For the right price. The ones that like it are more expensive, so if you like one that'll fight you're in for a deal."

"—What?"

The man laughed. "Don't have to play stupid with me. You all come here for the same reason. So tell me what you're after and I'll set you up with a young piece real quick."

Steve, realizing exactly what he was being told, felt bile rose in his throat. The man continued with his pitch. "Cash only, that goes without saying. Daytime'll cost you more, you can pay by the hour or pay a whole day if you want. Just can't take the kid outta the house. Pick a room, there's plenty, different cost for each on-"

Steve cut him off, catching the man by the throat as he shoved him against the wall. The man gurgled and clawed at his arm, but was no match for the super soldier.

"I don't have words in my speech for the kind of filth you are." Steve reached into his coat pocket with his free hand and took out the picture of Charlie, shoving it in front of the man's face. "Do you know this kid?"

A look of recognition passed over the man's face, and Steve let up his hold on his throat a little, only to tightening it again when he tried to break free and a string of profanity poured out of his mouth.

"That little cocksucker, if I ever get my hands on his ass again or that other motherfucker I'll—"

"You're not going to touch him." Steve shoved the man against the wall again, then shoved him down onto the sofa. "You're going to tell me everything you know about Charlie, and you're going to do it right now."

The man rubbed at his neck, and Steve, seeing his eyes flick toward the desk, pocketed the picture and went over to open the top drawer, pulling out the gun he found inside. He gave the man a knowing look and opened the gun chamber, finding it loaded with four bullets, then closed it.

"I'd suggest you talk and stop thinking about doing something stupid."

"What the hell you want to know about that kid for?"

"That's none of your business."

"The hell it ain't! That kid was one of my boys before that sonofabitch in your picture came along and hightailed it out of here with him."

Steve again felt bile in his throat. "Tell me exactly what happened. Did he – did he come here for – did he pay for Charlie to.."

"Never paid a damn thing! He came here, went crazy on me kinda like you, took the kid, and they ran. Gave me a good shiner and a broke nose while he was at it. Surprised the shit out of me, didn't think somebody that scrawny had it in him."

"Where did he found out about Charlie?"

"Kid gave him the address."

"When? Why?"

"Don't know. Hey, really man, I don't know, you don' need to keep pointing that gun at me."

Steve ignore him and continued to keep the weapon drawn. "How did you get Charlie? Or any of these kids?"

"Same way as the rest of them. Runaways, abandoned, some people'll sell them off, you know? At least I don't ship them overseas where God knows what happens to them.."

"God has nothing to do with the kind of things you do here."

Steve pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 9-1-1. The man rose out of his seat and tried to bolt for the door when he saw the phone, but Steve headed him off at the doorway, knocking him out with the handle side of the gun. As the man fell to the floor, the 911 operator picked up.

"Hello? This is Captain Steve Rogers, Captain America calling. I've got a situation at 1763 East 182th Street." Steve pinned the down man under his knee and held his wrists behind his back, the phone held between his ear and shoulder. He glanced toward the stairwell where he heard the scurrying of feet and a couple of children, a small boy and a girl, crept down far enough into the light he could see them. "I've got a suspect down, maybe more in the building, and at least two dozen if not more children that'll need some medical attention."

As the operator directed him to stay on the line, Steve gave the children the most reassuring smile he could. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get you out of here." It didn't take like for the sound of police sirens to come, audible from blocks away and drawing quickly closer.

* * *

It was several hours later and already dark outside that Steve exited the NYPD 30th Precinct; it had taken four ambulances to transfer all the children they'd found at the building to nearby hospital, and two police vehicles for the few lowlifes that were discovered in the rooms upstairs.

Steve headed directly to Stark Tower, badly in need of familiar company; he's spent most of the time giving a detailed account of what had happened to detectives that were now assigned to the case, then retelling it again several times until they'd been satisfied with the information. The Commissioner had come down to the precinct to see him once it had gotten around (and it hadn't taken long) that seemingly out of nowhere, Captain America had managed to find and expose a child prostitution den. Data run on the man he'd encountered there revealed ties to child sex trafficking outside of the United States as well.

Steve had passed off his discovery of the place as being tipped off by a youth about it, and he had gone to investigate. While the police weren't particularly pleased he'd done it instead of going directly to them with the information, and had wanted to know where to find the kid for more information, Steve had given them his best blank face and said he didn't know where the kid could be found. Eventually the police relented when Steve had pointed out that rank-wise, he was part of a federal level government agency, and they had stopped with that particular line of questioning; at the moment, they had enough to deal with, with all the children they'd found at the rundown building.

Steve was relieved when the investigation questions shifted to other area; the seemingly endless string of lies that he 'd had to tell after getting himself into the mess to begin with, since coming across Loki and Charlie, was doing nothing for his nerves or his morale. Guilt plagued him, and while half of him glad he'd still managed to keep the duo at the hospital a secret, the other half of him was screaming about honor and duty and how badly things could turn out.

Tony met him at the door when he reached the tower and took him up to the main room where he did most of his entertaining, going straight to the bar and pouring Steve a large glass of scotch. Steve accepted it gratefully and told Tony about his day, or at least the same altered and edited version he'd shared with the police.

"You had a big day from the sounds of it." Tony was watching him over his own glass. "What the hell possessed you to rush off and take something like that on without talking to the rest of the team? Any of us would have been willing to help, especially Natasha. She's a hard one outside but I know you've seen how she is around kids. She would have jumped at that in a heartbeat."

Steve avoided Tony's gaze and looked out at the city. "I haven't really been myself lately. I can't explain why, I just... haven't."

"Maybe you've been working too hard."

Steve gave Tony a disbelieving look, but the billionaire held up a hand. "I mean it. Look, Steve, of all the team, who's the one that has spent all his free time at S.H.I.E.L.D. or trying to get re-acquainted with this century? You sure as hell don't see me or Bruce over at headquarters all the time going over old files and researching every potential super villain or terrorist organization that might threaten the city and country. That's all you. To tell you the truth, it's kind of a relief, seeing you take a break from it. Maybe that's what you need. You said yourself that you've been having trouble sleeping. Maybe that's a part of all this."

Steve frowned. "I don't spend all my time at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Not lately, no, but take a good, honest look at the past three years. You've been married to your job, and all work and no play makes Cap a dull boy. Maybe it's time you got out there and tried to find something else or someone else to take up your time."

"You said it yourself that Fury isn't going to like the thought of us retiring."

"Who the hell said anything about retiring? I'm talking about a break, a chance to live your own life for a while, not leaving S.H.I.E L.D. forever.

Steve shook his head. " We've got the investigation starting in a couple of days. I can't think about something like this when we've got work to do."

Tony made an exasperated sound. "Fine. But after it's done and over with, you should give taking some time off some serious thought.

Steve paused again, looking down into his glass of scotch. "You really think I'd been working too hard?"

"Have you been listening to anything I've just been saying to you? Yes, Steve, I think you've been working too hard. From the minute they thawed you out, you've been go, go, go. I know serving your country is important, but if you want to do good for the country then you have to take care of you too, and that's going to take more than working out to keep your body in top condition. It means doing things that keep the rest of you healthy too. Besides, do you really want to keep up at this pace, crack someday, and have to spend who knows how long with one of Fury's shrinks?"

"Good point." Steve relaxed a little and sat back in his seat. "Thanks, Tony. I don't say it enough, to you, or to the rest of the team, but I'm sincerely glad to know and work with you."

"Hell, Cap, you know we're not all just co-workers, right? We've all nearly been killed together, maimed together – at this point, we're damn near family. You should come spend more time with the rest of the gang, everyone practically lives here at the Tower. The door's always open, you don't have to ask. Just show up."

* * *

Steve left Stark Tower in a much better mood, though he still felt unsettled by the secrets he was keeping.

Returning home he ate, then remained seated at the kitchen table afterward, musing over what Tony had said to him.

Maybe he was overworking himself. He hadn't really done anything since he'd come back into the world but work and try to learn how to cope with the current age, though the latter area he still found himself sorely lacking in. Maybe the stress, the constant routine he'd grown so used to and relied on wasn't working anymore. As troubling as that was, when he was so used to everything working like clockwork, it make him feel some sense of relief. Maybe the fact that he was discontented had a lot to do with how he'd been acting, to the things he'd been doing. Perhaps that was the reasoning behind all the risky steps he'd been making and taking where both Loki and Charlie were concerned.

At the thought pair and almost without meaning to, he gathered a few things and found himself headed toward St. Luke's again.

Gloria was at the desk when he got there, and she smiled when she saw him. "Good evening, Captain."

Steve smiled back, albeit a little guiltily. "I know it's after visiting hours, but I wondered if I could maybe just check on them looking through the windows."

Gloria waved a dismissive hand. "Captain, with Mr. Barnes you can go in any time since you're his emergency contact, save when the doctors need to take care of him, and that won't be until morning." She gave him a knowing look. "Same with Charlie, if we can put you down as his emergency contact too. He was cleared for visitors in his room today, now that the infection he had is gone. Just use the sanitizer outside the door before you go in."

Without hesitation, Steve nodded. "Sure. I haven't been able to find anybody connected to him, so if you think—"

"I do. Will do the poor boy some good to wake up and find out you, of all people, is interested in his well-being." Gloria went about updating information in the files, then glanced at Steve, who was still lingering at the desk. "Well, go on. They haven't had any visitors aside from you, go on in."

Steve headed down the hall and to Charlie's room first, pausing to sanitize his hands before he went in. The boy looked much better than the day before, with more color to his face. Steve paused at the bedside and crouched down, keeping his voice soft.

"Hey, Charlie. I know we haven't met yet, but… I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. You'd probably know me as Captain America, but I'm just here as Steve now." He took the boy's hand and gave it a small, gentle squeeze. "I just wanted you to know I'm trying to help you. I don't know everything that's happened, but you don't have to worry about the place you came from before. That man, I think the police said his name was Markus, he's in jail now. The other kids are out. No one has to go back there again, okay?" Steve fell silent for a moment, glancing toward the window, then back at Charlie. "And the man that's been helping you, the one that saved you from those men at the shelter, he's here too, at the hospital. You're both asleep right now, but hopefully you'll both wake up soon. When you do, I'll still be here for you. I'll keep helping if I can."

Steve stayed a while longer; watching the boy for any signs of movement, for anything at all. Finally he took his leave and went over to Loki's room next, moving the chair from the wall over to the bedside and taking a seat, un-shouldering the satchel he'd brought with him.

"Hey. I'm back." Steve reached into the bag and pulled out the books he'd brought and set them on the small, rolling table beside the bed. "I don't know how these nights are for you, but I've been having one heck of a time getting any sleep. Since you seem to be getting more than enough for the both of us, I thought maybe we could find some even ground."

Picking up _Les Misérables_ from the stack, Steve flipped it open to the first page and began to read.

"_So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, decrees of damnation pronounced by society, artificially creating hells amid the civilization of earth, and adding the element of human fate to divine destiny; so long as…"_ He paused, glancing at Loki again. "You know, when you wake up, you're going to have to tell me why you picked these books. I think what a person reads says a lot about them." When no response came, as Steve had been expecting it wouldn't, he continued with the book. _"…so long as the three great problems of the century—the degradation of man through pauperism, the corruption of woman through hunger, the crippling of children through lack of light—are unsolved; so long as social asphyxia is possible in any part of the world…_"

Steve remained at Loki's bedside reading, one hour, then two passing into the night, his words punctuated by the slow, steady beep of the heart monitor.


	7. Chapter 6: Missed Calls

_Author's Note: Here we are with another chapter, dear readers. Oh, yes… Loki. Here he is. Thank you so much for all the recent, kind reviews that you've been leaving. _

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the hospital staff, the Bowery Mission staff, random lowlifes, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 6: Missed Calls**

During the weekend, Steve fell into a different routine than he was accustomed to; he woke, and while he still went to Stark Tower to join the team in their exercise, he'd excuse himself directly afterward to venture into the city and do things on his own.

Tony, while giving him good-natured grief about not joining the rest of them for lunch in front of the group, always gave him a smile and an acknowledging nod before he left, clearly glad that Steve was actually taking his advice and taking time to himself.

Steve took the first days as opportunity to explore Manhattan; and while the crowds of people still overwhelmed him, he found himself wandering the main streets of the city once his initial nervousness at being out without any other purpose than to try to have a good time had ebbed, he began exploring the shops, even ducking into a couple restaurants to try something different for lunch.

In the late afternoon he returned to the hospital, and after brief conversation with whatever nurse happened to be at the ICU level station, he'd venture into Charlie's room first for a while, talking quietly to the boy about everything from the things he'd enjoyed to do in his youth, to his time in the army, or even about his day. Afterward, he went to Loki's room, taking a seat and picking up where he'd left off in the Victor Hugo novel and reading for lengths at a time.

When he'd finished his span of reading to Loki on Sunday, he closed the book and set it aside, sighing.

"This next week'll be a little different; the team's got a mission to do. Somebody trying to bring weapons into the country, so I won't be here as much. It's Christmas in five days too, though from what I've heard from Thor, that doesn't mean anything to you guys." When there was, as usual, nothing but silence in response, he continued. "I'll still stop by when I can. The doctor I spoke with in the hall yesterday said Charlie's doing better, even if he hasn't woken up yet. They're going to move him up to a different floor on Monday now that he's stabilized and started to heal the way they wanted. It's going to be a while before they move you, though."

Steve fell quiet, looking the other man over. While Charlie had improved a little more every day, it seemed that there was no change in Loki.

The same doctor he'd spoken to about the boy had confided that, with all the unknown injuries that Mr. Barnes seemed to have met with before the attack, there was simply no way of accurately knowing how well or if he would recover. "He might never wake up, that's unfortunately a possibility. Or he might wake up tomorrow with conditions that he will need to learn to adapt to for the rest of his life, or with none at all."

"Keep fighting, okay?" Steve rose and pulled the covers up a little higher over Loki's chest. "If you survived the Hulk smashing you around, this is nothing, right?"

* * *

"Anything I need to know before I go on shift, Cap?"

Steve pushed the cowl of his uniform back and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head wearily. "Nothing. I haven't seen any of the men or women in question come through the main terminal, and nothing's come up via the monitors that Fury has the other agents on."

They'd been taking their patrols in shifts for the past three days, Tony coming on for six hours while Steve took time to eat and sleep in one of the small rooms that Homeland Security had designated for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s use at JFK International, then Steve going back on for six hours while Tony rested.

It was grueling work, albeit nowhere near as physical as they were used to doing; they had to stay alert and aware of the swarms of people passing through the terminal, to the information the agents were sending them via the discreet ear-coms they wore, and each six-hour period ended with a quick report of what they had and hadn't seen before they could relax and take time to gear up for the next shift. While Tony had the added advantage of shift of his suit's scanning capabilities, Steve was finding himself mentally wiped out after sixty-six hours into their patrols.

"Barton and Natasha haven't had any luck down at Grand Central either, from the sounds of it. Haven't heard anything from Thor or Bruce yet." Tony patted him on the back. "Go get some food, some rest. Hopefully this is the shift we find what we're looking for."

As if some answer to Tony's words, it was two hours later that the message came from S.H.I.E.L.D; a shipment of bombs had been intercepted at the harbor by Thor and the Hulk, and the team was recalled back to headquarters.

"Good work, team," Fury congratulated them as they gathered around the conference table, each of them looking tired but relieved that they'd been successful. "I knew this would be next to nothing for the six of you. You've done S.H.I.E.L.D. proud tonight, and the country."

"We still don't know who's behind the shipments," Bruce interjected, "So I doubt this is the last we'll see of these weapons."

Fury nodded. "You're right, it isn't Intelligence is still tracking our list of suspects for any further activity that might point to another shipment. If it comes, we'll do the same as we did this time; prepare and be ready for it. For now, you'll all dismissed until next Monday, unless something comes up."

"You mean we actually get to have Christmas off?" Tony was the first to leave his seat. "This calls for a drink."

"I said dismissed unless something comes up, Stark." Fury gave Tony a pointed look. "If something comes up, and it might, you'll want to be sober enough to deal with it."

"Hey, maybe I meant eggnog." Tony rolled his eyes as the team exited, then whispered to Steve as they headed down to the locker rooms, "Rum goes great with eggnog."

The group was decidedly in better spirits as they all changed out of uniform and gathered their personal belongings up to leave, though Clint bemoaning his failed attempts to talk Natasha into joining him for dinner. "Just when I think I've got a handle on women, bam. I don't."

"Women should be handled with great care, my friend," Thor said, trying to be helpful.

Clint gave him a look. "Thor, this is Tasha we're talking about. She can kick each of our asses if she wanted to; I don't think 'handle with great care' applies in the traditional sense."

"Maybe if you'd make yourself more of a challenge, instead of chasing after her like a puppy all the time," Tony said, throwing a towel at Clint's head, "She'd be more interested. You know, try the dark and mysterious route instead of the 'Hey, I'm right here, all the time, look at me!' routine."

"Hey, I'm nothing like a puppy!"

"Woof, woof, Barton. Keep it up and you'll be stuck with that bone of yours forev-"

Steve shook his head as the conversation in the locker room devolved into a show of bravado, Clint and Tony launching into an impromptu wrestling match, though both were grinning and Thor's laughter echoed around them. Bruce had moved off to the side and was shaking his head, giving Steve a 'can you believe these guys?' look. Steve shrugged, closing his locker and pulling his coat on.

The small vibration in his coat pocket caused Steve to pause and pull the cell phone out, a frown coming over him as he saw the notification for several missed calls and messages. Stepping out into the hall he selected the messages function and listened, the voicemail informing him of two messages, then kicking into the first. Background noise, then nurse Patrice's voice filled Steve's ear, her words hurried, almost breathless.

"Captain, this is Patrice from St. Luke's. I thought you should be the first to know, Mr. Barnes is awake, he…"

Steve didn't listen to the remainder of the message, breaking into a sprint to get across town to the hospital, ignoring the sound of Tony calling after him.

* * *

Nurse Gloria was the one that met him at the ICU doors, her expression etched with worry. "Captain, I'm glad you're here. He woke up late last night, shortly before we tried contacting you."

"How is he? Is he… did he say anything?"

Gloria pulled him aside in the hall, keeping hold of his arm. "You need to know, he's been sedated. He panicked when he woke, demanded to know where he was, what was happening. He's disoriented, doesn't remember his own name it seems."

Steve grimaced, feeling more than a little guilty at having added an element of confusion for Loki to wake up to. "What else happened?"

"Well, when nurse Patrice told him that she was going to contact you, that's when the most trouble started. He tried to get out of the bed. That's why we had to sedate him; he was in a terrible state, tried to pull the IV lines out, bit one of the other nurses when he tried to hold him down. I'm sure Mr. Barnes will be bruised and sore for a few days after a struggle like that."

"… Can I go in and see him, or…" Steve trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Yes, you can go in. Like I said, Captain, he's been sedated. He's conscious, but he's still not in the best of moods. He's not going anywhere as the doctor had him strapped down too, until we can be sure he's not going to do himself or anyone else any harm. He's not well, though, keeping that in mind take some care with him."

Steve nodded and thanked her, then headed down the hall toward the room. He paused, glancing in at the room Charlie had been in, and seeing a different, unfamiliar patient there, opened the door opposite to Loki's room and stepped inside.

Loki lay in the bed as he had been all the times prior, but thick, padded straps held his arms to the bed rails at the wrists and elbows. He turned his head slowly when Steve entered, blinking, and then eyes narrowing.

"Captain." His voice was a low hiss, the sound thin and rougher than Steve remember it being years prior. Loki continued to regard him with obvious distaste and anger. "Come to… take me away, have you?"

Steve hesitated, then shook his head and stepped closer, pulling his chair from the wall and taking his usual seat at the bedside. The action drew a confused look from Loki.

"No, actually," Steve admitted. "I just came to see how you were doing. The hospital called to let me know you'd woken up. You've been here a while, a little over three weeks."

"And then, after you've made this terribly convenient call on my well-being, I'll be es… escorted to whatever place you have prepared, will you not?" Loki turned his head to look up at the ceiling, sighing and closing his eyes. Steve waited, seeing that it was taking the man a lot of effort to try to gather enough strength and focus to speak. "So be it. No doubt, the All-Father had hoped this would happen. Did my… did Thor tell you of my whereabouts?..."

"No. No, no one told us where you were. Thor doesn't know you're here, no one does except for me."

Steve's words earned a small, breathless laugh from Loki, who shook his head once, then fell still again. "And they say… I am the Liesmith."

"It's the truth. No one else knows. I haven't told anyone. I didn't know you were here, I found you by accident."

Steve recounted the events to Loki, how he'd run the errand for Tony and how it had led to discovering him in the hospital. Loki, whose attention returned to him as he spoke, continued to watch him with mistrust.

"If what you say is true," Loki ventured, once Steve had finished, "If you've not come to take me to another glass prison as you and your friends did once before, why am I shackled in this manner?"

"Because you tried to pull out your own IVs and leave. In case you haven't noticed, you're kind of in a bad way. You're in a hospital, where people go when they're sick or injured." Steve reached out to touch one of the restraint straps and Loki tensed. "It's okay, I was just… I'm not going to hurt you. I was going to say, if you promise not to hurt yourself or try to run away again, I'll get these off for you."

The silence stretched between them for a long moment, and Steve was about to give up when Loki nodded, focusing his gaze up at the ceiling again and away from him.

Steve loosened one strap, then another, and Loki slipped his arm free. Rising from the chair Steve moved around the bed and unfastened the other two straps, then took a step back, watching as Loki touched tentative fingers to the bandages around his left bicep and shoulder.

"Your arm was broken, when… you know. When you were attacked."

Loki glanced at him, then back down at the bandage. "Who said that I was attacked?"

"The nurses and the doctors that have been taking care of you the last few weeks, and Mr. Higdon down at Bowery Mission." Steve continued, even as surprise registered on Loki's face at his words. "I know you got beaten up while you were down there, apparently homeless. You want to tell me how you ended up in New York, how any of this happened?"

"What makes you think that I've any wish to speak of anything to you?"

"I think you'll tell me because you'll want to know how Charlie is."

Loki's head snapped up at that, the sudden reaction causing him to wince in pain. Steve reached out and adjusted a pillow, trying to help keep Loki's head and neck supported.

"Careful. You don't want to hurt yourself anymore. Looks like you've had enough of that already."

"What do you know of Charlie, or of pain?" Loki closed his eyes again, falling silent for a minute before finally asking, quietly, "How is he?"

"He's still in a coma, like you were. His doctor had him moved up to another floor about three days ago because everything else is going fine. His healing, there haven't been any more complications after they got rid of the infection he had..." Steve trailed off, watching the mixture of relief and worry on Loki's face. "That kid really must mean something to you."

"He is of no concern to you. Leave him be, Captain. It is… it is me you are after, are you not?"

"I already told you, I'm not here to hurt you. I haven't told anyone you're here and I'm not going to take you anywhere. Not like this, not unless you give me a reason to need to take you to S.H.I.E.L.D." Steve moved back to the chair and sat down again, leaning forward and keeping his voice as even and gentle as he could manage. For as frustrating as the other man was being, he really couldn't blame him for his suspicion. "I know you don't trust me, and I can understand that, but I promise you, I'm not lying to you."

Loki watched him for a while, and Steve remained where he was, letting him think about whatever was going on inside of his head, green eyes scanning over him the entire time. At last, Loki spoke again.

"Why… do the people here insist on calling me by a name… a name that is not my own?"

Steve laughed a little, embarrassed. "It was a name I gave them when I saw you here. They said they had you listed as a John Doe, same as at the Mission. It's a generic name we use here on earth for somebody we don't know."

"How strange..."

"It is, now that you mention it."

"How did you choose the name?"

Steve grew more serious at that. "The name of a friend, long dead and gone."

"You gave me this friend's name for what purpose?"

"For anonymity. To keep your real identity a secret."

Loki stared hard at him a moment more, then closed his eyes again. "You truly mean what you are saying to me, don't you? You've… not lied."

"No, no I haven't. I said what I meant, I haven't told anyone you're here and I don't plan to, not yet. Maybe not at all."

"Why 'maybe not at all', Captain?"

"I've got a lot of questions, for one, and depending on what those answers are there may not be a reason to take you in to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Loki made a soft, derisive sound. "A curious way to treat an enemy."

"Is that what you are?"

His eyes still closed, Loki made a face. "Even if I wished to be, in my present state it would be an impossibility."

"Injured?"

"… Mortal." Loki opened one eye and glanced at Steve. "Surely Thor has not hesitated to tell his friends of what befell his misbegotten 'brother'."

"He hasn't, no, not everything. Only that you were thrown out of Asgard to who knows where."

"How do you know that there is more?"

"Those scars and burns you've got, for one."

Loki's eye narrowed, and then closed again. "I'm quite weary, Captain. If you don't mind, I would find rest a welcome respite from further conversation.

"Sure, for now, but when you wake up again, we'll talk more."

"What makes you believe I shall be here when you return?"

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you wake up. It isn't like you can overpower me when you do, either, not if you're telling the truth about being mortal."

"It is the truth." Loki's voice was softer at that, his tone betraying a hint of sadness. "For once, I am not lying, no matter how I might wish otherwise."

"Get some rest." Steve leaned back in the chair, watching as the former god fell quiet again, his breathing eventually evening out and slowing. After a while he reached over and picked up the copy of _The Flowers Of Evil_, thumbing slowly through the pages and reading while he waited patiently for Loki to wake up again so they could continue talking.


	8. Chapter 7: Bondage & Freedom

_Author's Note: Alright, here's another chapter! I'm rather excited about this one, and I'm sure some of you have been hoping to see things from Loki's point of view. He doesn't have it easy in this one. I also delve into my own bastardization of Norse mythology and Marvel canon here. _

_My eternal thanks to both the readers that are following and reviewing. Your kind words and encouragement have been wonderful to hear. I also must give a nod to the ever-wonderful thing that is Grooveshark, where the Ambient channel gives me a lot of inspiration while I write this. If you are a writer that enjoys a good place for music inspiration and haven't yet checked it out, I highly recommend it. _

_Warning: Descriptions of torture and trauma. The Eagle's Mark is reference to the Viking method of torture & execution called Eagle's Blood._

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the hospital staff, the Bowery Mission staff, random lowlifes, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 7: Bondage & Freedom **

The pain was not only excruciating, it was downright maddening.

Loki opened his eyes slowly groaning at all the aches he felt from his head down to his feet, and when he realized once again where he was and what had happened to him. Not that he hadn't felt pain before. He was well accustomed to it. Now it was simply mortal pain, a pain that brought with it a twinge of fear, a chilling realization that one could not simply heal with magic, or by the great healing powers of the gods and their methods of medicine recover within a few days' time.

He gave a small start when he saw the Captain sitting asleep in the chair at his bedside, the man's head propped against a hand and a book in his lap, a book Loki recognized as one of his own that he'd obtained since coming to earth. He frowned, wondering why and how Captain America had come to have it in his possession, more than a little troubled by what it possibly implicated, but soon other pressing matters had him searching almost frantically for the small, red button the nurses has indicated for him to press if he needed help.

The eldest of the nurses he'd seen so far came to the room, eying him with hesitance, then worry when she saw his restraints unfastened.

"Mr. Barnes, how did you manage to undo these..."

"The Captain was good enough to release me from them. I assure you," he said, doing his best to look contrite and glancing at the soldier as the man started to wake. "I've no plans to attempt another escape. I requested your assistance as I, ah… well, I rather need to relieve myself and would appreciate if you might direct me to the proper place to do so."

Gloria walked over and checked his vital signs on the monitors. "If you need to go, you can go any time. You're still hooked up to a catheter."

"A… what?"

"You can relieve yourself any time. You've been in a coma for the past three weeks, that's how we've taken care of it since you've been here."

Loki's eyes darted downward, and lifting the edge of his blankets with tentative fingertips, he grimaced. Taking a quick sidelong glance at the Captain he saw the soldier blush a little, then look away. Loki's embarrassed about the situation only increased as a result. He cast a look toward Gloria. "Must I?"

"I'm not allowed to let you out of bed just yet, not until the doctor comes down again and says you can get out of bed. Or if you'd like I can go and get you a bed pan, though that's worse than the catheter if you're fussy about mess and having people around while you do it."

"I can leave the room, if you like," the Captain offered. Loki nodded, and avoided eye contact with either of them.

"Yes, leave. Both of you."

The soldier and the nurse both stepped outside and closed the door, and he closed his eyes, almost disbelieving exactly what he was having to do.

When he was finished, and once he'd managed to gather himself enough not to appear any further embarrassed or bothered by the entire matter, he lay and waited for them to return. The Captain knocked at the door hesitantly.

"Can I come back in?"

"Yes."

Loki trained his gaze up at the ceiling again as the other man entered and sat down beside him once more. Gloria poked her head back into the room, and after inquiring if there was anything else he needed, disappeared to take care of other patients.

"You know, it's nothing to be ashamed about." The soldier's voice finally broke the silence that had fallen between them.

"It'd rather not discuss it, Captain."

"You don't have to keep calling me that, you know. My name's Steve. Steve Rogers."

"I've little interest in you, or your name, _Captain_."

He heard the man shift in the chair, and glancing at him, Loki was surprised to see that he looked almost disappointed.

"Whether you have any interest in me or not, I still have a few things I want to discuss with you. I told you before you slept that I wanted to talk more with you."

"I see little point in further conversation."

Steve fixed him with a look and sat back in his seat, arms crossed. "This isn't just about you, you know. If you want to help Charlie, and I know that you do, I suggest you start talking."

At the mention of the boy's name, Loki felt a familiar pang in his chest, the same pang that the child often inspired by his mere presence. He remained silent for few minutes, then spoke, his voice almost a whisper. "What is it that you wish to know?"

"Tell me everything. How you met Charlie, how you came here, about what happened to you when you went back to Asgard."

Loki closed his eyes again, the mere idea of recounting all he had to tell filling him with weariness and exacerbating the near-constant ache he now felt in his present condition. Still, he had little choice, it seemed, if he wanted to keep the boy safe. Who knew what might befall him if those the Captain worked for took an interest in the child merely for his association with their once-enemy?

"I was taken back to Asgard, as you well know, in chains and muzzled," he began slowly. "Thor delivered me the instant we returned into the care of Odin's personal guard, and I was escorted to the palace prisons…"

* * *

He had been put into a cell and left there for a night and a day, no food or water, not a single other soul so much as passed by the small, barred window in the heavy door. He had been left shackled and muzzled, and though he had struggled to free himself, he found himself unable to do magic in any form.

When the guards returned he was taken up to the great hall of the palace, where it seemed all the nobles of Asgard awaited to see him put on trial; it was then that he felt the first prick of shame, thrown to his knees before the Æsir, his armor tarnished and his clothing stained from battle and no way to care for his personal needs while he had been kept bound in the prisons. He also still bore the slowly healing marks of his encounter with the Avengers, and he had bowed his head low, his unkempt hair a shield against the stares and the jeering of the courtiers and nobles as they shouted for a swift sentence for the 'Liesmith' and called for retribution and justice.

The heavy strike of Gungnir against the throne dais brought silence to the hall, and Loki had lifted his head a little to glimpse Odin, standing with Thor at his right and the Warriors Three at his left in the place that had once been his at the All-Father's side. The sight had pained him, to see himself replaced so easily by three of Asgard's favorites who had delivered so much grief and torment to him through his life.

"Loki of Asgard. You have been brought to the court today for the terrible crimes you have wrought on three of the realms of Yggdrasil." With a motion of Odin's hand the muzzle had fallen from his mouth, and he had gasped for the first deep breath of fresh air he had been afforded since leaving Midgard. "What say you of these charges?"

"Will to you speak to them also of your crimes, Odin?" His words echoed through the hall and brought a murmur of consternation to the court. "Will you speak of what wrongs _you_ have wrought upon _me_? Upon my-"

"Silence!"

Odin had cut through his words, motioning through the air with a hand. Loki had felt his tongue grow heavy in his own mouth. Try as he might he could not raise his voice again to defend himself, and so Odin had pressed on, delivering the sentence in full.

"You will serve six seasons in Asgard; Two seasons for high treason and attempted fratricide and patricide. One season for your attempt to destroy Jotunheim. And three seasons more for your crimes against Midgard. So it has been decided. So it shall be done."

A cheer had erupted from the court, and as quickly as he had been brought, he was returned by Odin's guard to the prisons, dragged from the hall as the voices of the Æsir followed after him, calling for punishment and for blood.

His magic had been stripped from him, that much he knew when he was set in chains and lashed with a whip of bligesnipe leather, then left in his cell to recover. He had been unable to call on his abilities to heal himself, and the wounds had split and festered, the stench of his own flesh full of disease causing him to retch. Days passed before a jar of salve was delivered, and he had covered himself with it, shaking with relief. It was unmistakably his mother's special blend that had healed so many of his wounds through the years as he'd grown, a lone drop of hope sent to him wordlessly from the palace.

He had lain prostrate on the floor, letting the pungent ointment work it's slow, natural magic on him. He had barely been healed for a few days when he had been taken out again and lashed, and once again the cycle was repeated; days of pain, of infection, and eventually delivery of the ointment so he might recover.

He had passed the first two seasons in that manner, and at long last, when he felt as if he had reached a state where he had almost learned to embrace the familiar pattern of his days and nights, they had altered.

The third season the guards had started to deliver the beginnings of the Eagle's Mark to him; held down, his back was cut with a blade along the curve of his ribs from spine to side, and salt was poured into the wounds. As before he was left in his cell, but this time no jar of salve came to ease the pain. For sport, the guards would drag him out and allow him only to eat if he would crawl on hands and knees across the prison floor to eat from the bowl like a hunting hound, often kicking him and moving the bowl further when he would reach it at last.

In the fourth and fifth seasons they began to break his ribs during the ritual of the mark, cracking a new one each time and threatening each time that they would break them all and remove his lungs through the wounds.

Their final torture when the sixth and final season of his sentence came, was to chain him to the wall of his cell when they had finished with their lashing or marking, and set the torch to his hands so that upon his return from the prisons he would be hindered in his attempts to conjure magic.

It was then that he had finally cried out, near broken in mind and spirit, and his screams had echoed up from the prisons to the palace levels above. The guards were ordered to silence him, and they attempted to first to muzzle him. When he fought against them, Thor had been sent down to hold him still while the court physician used thick thread to sew his mouth shut. And so the final season had passed with his inability to make a sound while the guards continued and increased their daily tortures, delivering them now with a furor to make the most of the time they had left with him in their charge.

Then the day of his release had come, the audience once again before Odin and the Æsir, and the All-Father's displeasure, the banishment, and his fall from the heavens down to Midgard…

* * *

He fell quiet as he reached the end of his account of Asgard, and looking again to the Captain, saw horror and disbelief on the man's face.

"That is – torture. That… that Thor helped them, I…"

"Thor has always done as the All-Father commands, Captain."

"Please, call me Steve. I'm not here as Captain America, I'm not here to take you away to jail. You've just told me yourself you served your time in Asgard, even if that isn't what we meant to send you back to. Once a man has served his time, even if I still don't condone what you've done, I can't justify imprisoning you again."

"You believe what I have told you?"

Steve nodded. "The scars and burns on your arms and your face alone match what you've told me so far. You can't make something like that up, even if they do call you the Liesmith where you come from."

Loki made a derisive sound. "There are those who would disagree with you."

"So after Odin sent you here, what happened?"

"I found myself in your world, alone and mortal. After I woke on the banks of your city, I searched for safe haven. For a small time, I lived among your city's poor in the lower realms of the city, abandoned tunnels."

"I've heard about people going down there before, but I've never seen it," Steve admitted to him.

"It is, as you might expect, dark and cold, but does afford shelter from most of the elements. In the day time I would follow the others up to the street and learned of where they sought food and drink, I learned of your shelters. It was at one of these shelters I was able to seek time with one of your Midgardian healers for the remaining injuries I had sustained since leaving Asgard. I was instructed by others without home how to search the bins kept behind your markets and places of gathering when no doors were open to us for meals. The men and woman that resided in the tunnels also began to instruct me in some of the ways of your world."

Loki paused, thoughtful as he recalled the past few months, then continued again after a moment. "It was one evening while I walked back to the tunnels from the soup kitchen that I and so many of the others had gone to, that I met Charlie. He had attempted to pick my pocket, a sleight of hand I had learned in my own boyhood and so I did not miss it when he had done it."

"What did you do?"

"I chastised the boy and told him that if he wished to steal he would do better to steal from someone who had something rather than nothing, and that had not been a thief himself once and able to catch him."

Steve laughed and Loki found himself smiling almost in spite of himself.

"And then?" Steve pressed after a minute.

"He ran away from me, startled I believe, that I had found him out in the act. I saw him again down at the docks while I sought to gain a day's wage. There are ships that come in almost daily and some men will hire from the streets to gain assistance to unload them for a low price. Charlie was down amid the crowds in the shipyards, along with other young boys and girls his age. It became apparent they too, were seeking to gain work, but of a different kind."

"They were…"

"Selling themselves, Captain, selling their bodies to the incoming crewmen from the ships. I approached Charlie when I had heard what they were doing, and when I confronted him, when I asked why he would chose to do such a thing…" Loki's voice grew softer, his words ceasing as he closed his eyes again.

"What happened?"

"The boy grew angry with me and had said it was not his choice, that he had no other option for his life. He was alone, friendless and without family, both his parents lost, killed when – when the city was under siege from the Chitauri. He was selling himself because he had lost everything when I attacked the city."

When the captain said nothing, and once he had gathered himself enough, he continued. "Charlie gave me the address for where he now lived and worked, defiant in his manner as he did so. I do not think he ever suspected that I would go there, not to partake in the terrible services he and those other children were forced to perform, but to take him away from it."

"I know the place you're talking about." The captain nodded and leaded forward in his chair toward him, his expression brightening. "I found a scrap of paper with that address in the things you'd left at Bowery Mission. I went there myself. It's been taken care of, the other kids were rescued, the man in charge is in jail now, and some of the people that went there."

Loki took a slow breath, a small wave of relief washing over him. "For that, I am glad. I could only help Charlie when I went there; I was permitted to enter, the man believing I had come for Charlie's services, and so he was unprepared at first when I hit him and took the boy. He followed after us however, and attempted to wound us with his weapon, but both the shots he fired missed and we escaped.

"That explains the gun," Steve mused, then nodded. "Where did you two go after that?"

"Into the tunnels once more, until it became clear to me that it was no place for a child. As brave and precocious a young man Charlie is, he is still very young, merely thirteen years by the calendar of your world. We sought out a shelter that might permit us both, and while we never claimed relation, it seemed it was assumed by many. That is how we came to stay at Bowery Mission. It was a safe, dry place where he might again thrive and find opportunity. Where I had hoped to find the same."

Steve was studying him had now, and he turned his head away, wishing he had something other than the plain ceiling or white walls to focus his attention on under the other man's stare.

"So you helped Charlie, but why? It sounds like you felt remorse for what had happened to his parents. Did you feel responsible?"

"Yes, I felt a responsibility, it is true. In my blind ambition to gain what I sought, I brought destruction and death to Midgard." He paused, his voice cracking when he spoke again. "Do you have children, Captain?"

"No, I don't."

"Then it may be difficult for you to understand my motivation."

"You wanted to have a child? Is that why you helped Charlie, why you took him?"

"I have children, Captain. Four children, to be precise." Loki heard the inhale of surprise at his side even though he didn't look at Steve. "All four of my children were taken from me at the births, by Odin's decree."

"Your own father took your children-"

"Odin is not my father. My father was Laufey, ruler of Jotunheim, who I killed in attempt to prove my allegiance and loyalties to Asgard and to the All-Father. I am Loki Layfeyson of Jotunheim, taken from my land of birth during battle."

"That explains what Thor said about your being adopted."

"Abducted. Taken." He was unable to keep the pure malice from his voice. "Stolen and kept by an enemy king who hoped that one day through me he would gain reign of Jotunheim. I was taken to make the ends of a goal meet, nothing more." He paused, and then returned to his original point of discussion. "Odin took my children at their births, having decreed that they would never be allowed to see me again, nor I them, save Sleipnir who Odin kept for his own, breaking his spirit by bridle and spur to use as his own royal steed."

"Wait, one of your children is-"

"It was made prophecy that my children and I would bring about the fall of Odin, that I am the bringer of the end, the instrument of chaos, the one which will cause Ragnarok," Loki continued, ignoring Steve's clear distress at the revelation of his son's nature. "My daughter Hel, banished to the realm of the dead where she now rules; my son Jörmungandr, the serpent of Midgard, banished to the sea of this world, circling the earth and swallowing his own tail."

"And your fourth… child?" The captain asked, when Loki had taken pause again as the rise of emotions had caused him to lose his will to speak.

"The fourth, my son Fenrir, taken by the gods to a place kept secret from me and tethered to a rock. There he was left for all days, a sword caught between his jaws, or so I believed."

"What do you mean?"

"When I fell from Rainbow Bridge in Asgard, when the Bifrost was lost and then I too fell, cast into the void," he said, feeling the weight of the past memories settling over him, the grief that accompanied them crushing against his chest and constricting around his heart, "When the Chituari found me and took me captive, they bade me to join them, to bow to the service of Thanos. When I refused, I had assumed they would destroy me. Instead, they found another means by which to force me to bend to their demands."

Loki paused again, his throat constricting tightly against an invisible knot that seemed to have lodged itself there. He tensed when he felt the sudden, slight pressure of the Captain's hand against his own, and when he tried to pull away, the other man clasped his fingers.

"It's okay, you can tell me what happened." The captain's voice was gentle, reassuring.

"When I refused, Thanos came to me and I was given an ultimatum. I would go to Midgard and obtain the Tesseract, or they would torture and kill Fenrir before my own eyes." He opened his eyes again and gripping Steve's hand, he looked at him, his voice cracking again.

"They had my son."


	9. Chapter 8: Chow Mein & Custard

_Author's Note: Two chapters in one day! Here's bit something a bit more lighthearted to temper the angst of the last one. Also, back to Steve's perspective. Hope this story is still keeping your interest and has been worth the time, my dear followers and readers. _

_Warning: Nothing really terrible here, aside from the mention of some things that might not be very tasty to eat. _

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the hospital staff, the Bowery Mission staff, random lowlifes, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 8: **_Chow Mein & Custard_

"As you know, I failed my attempt to conquer Midgard, to take possession of the Tesseract and deliver it to Thanos. The price of my failure was promised to be Fenrir's death. I could not save my own son, and I could not undo what I have done to Midgard to try and save him. So I swore it that I would do what I might for Charlie when I discovered his plight. That one child might live where another had perished."

Steve was at a loss for words as he listened to Loki, unable to think of a single thing he could say that would ease any of the pain that recounting the tale, that the past itself had clearly brought to the former god.

"You did the right thing, getting him out of that place he was in," he finally offered. Loki withdrew his hand from Steve's grasp and looked away again. "Yet we are now here, both injured as a result."

"That wasn't your fault, from what I understand. You were both attacked, weren't you?"

"An attack that never would have occurred if Charlie had not come by the money." Loki's expression became guilty. During our time together I had informed him of methods of improvement for his sleight of hand, and he'd returned from an afternoon out to show me the profit of his expedition."

"Oh." Steve frowned. "That… wasn't the right thing to do. What if he'd been hurt by someone, or eventually been caught and arrested?"

Loki remained silent and refused to look at him. Steve sighed and eventually rose from his chair, glancing at his watch. "Look, it's late; I should go home and get some sleep. You need rest too." Loki didn't respond. "I'll be back tomorrow, to check on you, and on Charlie."

When the other man continued to ignore him, Steve left the room, unable to shake the glimmer of guilt he felt at having upset Loki. What he'd said was true, it hadn't been wise to teach Charlie how to pickpocket, but he couldn't help feeling he'd picked a bad time to point it out.

Leaving the hospital, he returned home, and for the first time in several days, found sleep easily, though his dreams were troubled with remembrances of the Chitauri and the battle against Loki.

* * *

He woke the next day to his telephone ringing. Making his way into the kitchen he picked up the receiver and answered, Tony's voice too loud on the other end.

"Hey, Cap. Didn't know if you'd be home or not with it being Christmas Eve and all. Pepper and I wanted to invite you over for the day. We're going to watch some movies, have some popcorn, that kind of thing. You in?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. What time?"

"Whenever you want to head over to the Tower. Bruce is here already, so we'll see you when you arrive."

He headed directly over to the Tower after he'd showered, dressed, and grabbed a quick bite to eat, parking his bike in the underground parking garage that Tony had given them all a passcode for, then rode the elevator up to the top of the building.

Pepper and Tony both greeted him when he entered, the smell of popcorn and cider filled the room and lending it an air of welcoming and warmth. Bruce waved from his spot on the large sectional sofa, already working on a bowl of popcorn. The counter was laid out not only with popcorn and mugs of the steaming cider, but trays of Christmas candies, cookies, and other sweet treats.

"Dig on in, Steve." Tony grinned, tossing a chocolate covered pretzel in the air and caught it in his mouth. "This is the one time of year Pep doesn't get on my case about what I'm eating, so I figure we ought to make the most of it."

Pepper rolled her eyes. From the couch, Bruce laughed. "I think Tony's secretly trying to fatten us up so he doesn't look bad when we're training."

"Bruce, that's a truly diabolical scheme, and while it's not true, I wish I'd thought of it." Tony carried a mug of cider over to Banner. "Though that might put me in league with the bad guys, if I start trying to figure out ways to make my teammates look bad."

"Is anyone else joining us?" Steve asked, hoping to divert the topic of conversation from anywhere near 'the bad guys' when the mere thought made his stomach do a barrel roll.

"Clint and Natasha might join us in a while. Thor and Jane are in New Mexico with Erik and Maria for the holiday. Seems even Christmas can't get Dr. Selvig and Dr. Foster to stop working."

"You're one to talk, Tony." Pepper gave the billionaire a look. "You'd be holed up down in your laboratory every Christmas if I hadn't convinced J.A.R.V.I.S. to play Jingle Bell Rock on repeat the last time you tried."

"Ms. Potts is correct, sir," answered J.A.R.V.I.S. "You spent precisely seven hours, sixteen minutes, fifty-one seconds in the laboratory on this date last year."

"Yeah, well, no thanks to you, backstabbing creation of mine, all of those seven hours, sixteen minutes, fifty-five seconds was pure hell with that music."

"I have never attempted to cause bodily injury to you, sir."

"Figure of speech, J.A.R.V.I.S."

"Of course, sir. Speaking is one of your favorite pastimes."

Everyone laughed, even Tony, the cheekiness of the program never ceasing to amuse any of them.

The settled onto the sofa and Tony cued up several Christmas films, _It's A Wonderful Life_ followed by _Miracle on 42 Street. _

Clint and Natasha eventually joined them, the archer following the assassin in and taking a seat next to her, glaring when Tony asked "There's popcorn and cookies if you want any, Fido."

As the day passed and they continued to watch movies, talk, and Tony ordered Chinese takeout for them for lunch, Steve felt a small sense of contentment. The people around him had truly, over time, friends, even if there were times, and those were many, that he forgot it. Duty called for him so often that sometimes it was easy for him to remember that he, Steve, needed things in life just as much as Captain America needed to serve and protect the people.

They started the old cartoon version of _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_, and toward the end of the film Steve found himself suddenly feeling a bit of guilt at the thought of another thick-skinned and seemingly heartless fellow he knew and the child that had managed to pierce that seemingly tough exterior, both of them alone in the hospital on Christmas Eve.

"I should take off," Steve said, once the film had ended and they had taken pause to portion out the Sweet and Sour Pork and Chow Mein that had arrived.

"You sure you won't stay a while longer?" Tony held up a pair of chopsticks. "I ordered more than enough for everyone."

"No, but thank you. I have a few things to do."

"Better hurry then. A lot of places close up early on Christmas Eve."

After giving his farewells to the group Steve took his leave of Stark Tower and returned to the hospital.

He went up to see Charlie first, now located the quietest wing of the pediatric ward; the nurses there assured him that the boy was fine, aside from still being in a coma, and after sitting beside the boy and talking to him, letting him know that the man who had rescued him was now awake, he went down to the ICU.

He halted at Loki's door and turned around to wait in the hall when he found himself interrupting the nurses from assisting him back into bed from a shower, but not before catching a glance of the other man's backside, seated on the edge of the hospital bed as they were redressing him. The pale skin was a latticework of scars, and Steve felt a pang of intense sympathy, now knowing exactly what had been done to leave behind that much damage.

He waited until the nurses had left, then knocked at the door frame. "Can I come in?"

Loki glanced up at him and nodded once. Steve took his usual place at the bedside in the chair.

"I know it doesn't really mean anything to you, but I thought I'd stop by and wish you a Merry Christmas."

Loki blinked and gave him a look, and it didn't seem to be a very friendly expression. "You've no idea how many of your Christian holidays are predated by the holy days of the Old Religions, do you, Captain?"

Steve frowned. "What do you mean?"

"From what I have read of Midgard, the purported birth of your Christian 'God' coincides with the holy days of many other cultures. I suggest you look into it. There is very little that is 'merry' about a day that harkens from a celebration to honor the All-Father, Thor, and others of the Æsir."

Steve fell quiet, torn between his desire to defend the beliefs he'd been raised on and a sudden feeling of ignorance. Loki continued to watch him.

"Forgive me, Captain, but the subject of my former _acquaintances _and land of upbringing is something I should like to avoid if possible."

"I can't blame you for that," Steve admitted, then blushed and avoided Loki's gaze as he recalled the scars he'd seen. "And again, it's Steve. You don't have to keep calling me Captain. Everyone always does, but it gets old after a while. "

Loki gave him a non-committal sound of "mmm" in reply.

Another knock at the door made them both look up, and Patrice stood there holding a tray. "It's time for dinner, Mr. Barnes." She smiled at Steve. "If you're hungry Captain, you'd better hurry down to the cafeteria and get something before they close."

Steve glanced at Loki. "You want company for dinner?"

Loki sighed, his eyes rolling and then focusing up at the ceiling. "Do I have a choice?"

"Yeah, you do." Steve stood up. "I can always go back upstairs and sit with Charlie again." He waited a moment, watching as Loki's gaze shifted to the tray of food Patrice was sitting on the little rolling table at his bedside, then up at him.

"If you must."

"I'll be right back." Steve smiled at him, and then hurried down to the cafeteria; the selection was limited by the time he got there, and he settled on a roast beef sandwich, salad, and cup of custard, then returned up to the ICU.

He took his seat again with the tray of his own dinner balanced in his lap, and glanced at Loki, who was poking at the bowl of broth and with obvious distain. The dark-haired man looked back at him, then at his tray of food with a look of longing.

"While most of the Midgardian fare I have eaten is better than prison gruel, I cannot say I am overly fond of… this flavor of chicken."

Steve glanced at his own food and felt another stab of guilt. "Liquid diet?"

Loki grunted sullenly in reply, the sound forcing Steve to fight against a smile. He'd heard Thor make a similar noise when Tony had yelled at him for picking the chocolate sprinkles off a donut, the Asgardian unsettled at the similarity to the small flecks on his food and some of the small insects he had taken note of on the earth. He was smart enough not to share that particular memory with Loki, however.

Steve ate his salad and sandwich quietly while Loki resentfully ate his broth. When he'd finished, Steve rose and took his tray for him, earning him a scowl.

"I do not need another nursemaid, Captain."

"Maybe I'm not doing it for you. I'm just trying to help the nurses." Taking the tray, Steve disappeared down to the nurse's station, and then returned a few moments later, almost beaming. Picking up the custard cup from his own tray, he opened it and set it and his unused spoon down on the table in front of Loki.

"There. I don't know if the Old Religions involved presents for holy days, but Christmas does. You don't have to like the day, but the least you can let me do is let give you something."

Loki eyed the cup distrustfully, then glanced at Steve. "I do not wish to be indebted to you, any more than I already am for your continued discretion of my whereabouts."

"It's not indebting yourself to me. It's a present. I don't expect anything from you, aside from you to eat it. It's okay, Patrice said it's not really a solid, so you can eat it. I promise it'll taste better than the broth."

Still giving him a look Loki picked up the spoon and poked at the custard, grimacing when it jiggled.

"It's lemon custard," Steve offered.

"It has a similar consistency as kidney of goat."

Steve made a face. "That sounds… disgusting. Just try it. If you hate it, we'll throw it out."

Loki lifted a spoon of the custard and tasted it, his brow furrowing a little; a moment later he took another bite, then another."

"See? I told you it was good."

"Better than the broth," Loki admitted. Steve smiled, feeling more than a little relieved he'd managed to find something that the other man enjoyed. Within a few more bites the cup was empty, and Loki gave it a forlorn look.

"I'll let Patrice know you liked it. Maybe they can add it to your menu."

Loki looked at him for a long moment, then looked away and leaned back against the pillows again, frowning.

Steve fell quiet as he cleared away the cup and his own tray, turning to take it out when Loki spoke.

"Thank you."

Steve glanced back at him. Loki continued to look at the opposite wall, but spoke again.

"Thank you for the custard… Steve."


	10. Chapter 9: Weakness & Strength

_Author's Note: Loki's point of view again. It's not a very cheerful point of view right now. Also, for the curious, a hospital "Code Grey" means "A combative person with no obvious weapon". Also, there's more bastardization of Norse myth and Marvel canon. I regret nothing. _

_Warning: Angst and fairly non-harmful projectile objects. That's about it._

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the hospital staff, the Bowery Mission staff, random low lives, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 9: Weakness & Strength**

Days passed, and with each one, Loki improved a little.

That was what the doctors told him, at least. From his perspective the healing process was agonizingly slow. The near-constant need for Midgardian medications to be injected into his blood, the constant supervision and care of the nursing staff and doctors, his inability to do even the simplest of tasks, was doing nothing for his sense of well-being. That he could not walk unassisted, that every movement made these muscles or those joins ache, burn, pop with use, left him frequently foul tempered.

All the more perplexing to him was the Captain's daily ritual of coming to visit; the man had held true to his word, it seemed, for at no time (though Loki waited, fretted over it daily, in spite of what he'd been told) did agents from S.H.I.E.L.D. storm his room, at no time did Thor sudden appear to try to whisk him back to Asgard, and Steve always came with a warm greeting and a smile, and never in uniform with shackles in hand to bind and take him away.

Steve's time with him had unwittingly become one of the few pleasantries of his days, the visits something he was growing to grudgingly anticipate in spite of his attempts to remain impassive. He'd been moved from the ICU after two days and further up to another level in the hospital, and while the room was less cold, with cream walls instead of the bleached bone white of the one previous, he found himself near bored to tears with nothing to occupy his time between the check-ins from the nurses and the visits with Steve.

He had attempted to read but found that after too long the activity made his head ache. He found the television mounted to the wall little better, the programs that Steve had helped him to puzzle out from the channel guides sometimes entertaining, but the sound and the brightness of the pictures eventually brought the same problems as his attempts to read. He was assured, as his head injuries healed, that the problems should minimize. It was the waiting, however, that caused him no little amount of frustration, and he missed being able to pass by the time with books.

Steve, it turned out, was fairly perceptive, for a mortal, and seemed to notice when he was feeling more out of sorts than usual. Not that he could truly use 'mortal' as a descriptor to set others apart from himself, he often found himself remembering, and that did little to help quell his restlessness or his emotional state.

He'd surprised Loki when, after listening to him explain his frustration at the inability to focus on his books, he had offered to read aloud to him.

"It's something I did while you were still in a coma," Steve had explained, looking almost embarrassed as he did. "I didn't know what else to do, and I'd found the books you had at the Mission…"

"What did you read?"

"_Les Misérables_. We made it to chapter eight."

He'd paused, lifting a hand to his lips and unconsciously biting at a fingertip as he thought. " 'Chapter Eight… Philosophy After Drinking', if I am not mistaken."

Steve had picked up the book, glancing at the chapter listing, and then nodded. "Yeah, it is. You've got a good memory, even for getting your head knocked around."

Loki had shrugged, used to others being unaccustomed to his bookish nature. "Best to use our minds as intended and not waste them."

Steve had lingered that day longer than normal, reading aloud to him for over two hours, and Loki had found himself struck with a sudden pang of loneliness after the soldier had left, the feeling replaced shortly afterward by anger at himself for feeling such base and crude things as a desire for simple companionship and conversation when he had survived so long in the prisons of Asgard without either.

Still, when the Captain came again to read to him, to merely talk, or to stay for a while and eat dinner at his bedside with him, never-failing to bring him a cup of custard when it was absent from his own meal tray, Loki found it harder and harder not to feel his spirits lifted when the other man walked through the door.

He had further surprised Loki when he'd come to visit and had questioned him for more information about his children and on what was truth and what was fact of the myths of the Midgardian Norse legends concerning himself and the Æsir.

"Your kids, they're depicted as a snake, a wolf, a horse and.."

"As monsters." Loki had given Steve a wry look. "Jotun. Hel, Fenrir, and Jörmungandr were taken while in the forms they are most commonly depicted in by Midgardian legends, abducted as the play together as children. Before that they each possessed the ability to take other forms. Odin saw to it that they would forever be cursed to remain in the physical state they were abducted in. He hoped it would make it more difficult for them to fulfill the prophecy of his end and of Ragnorok as beasts. Without the curse my children would be able to return to their true states."

"Would they look…"

"The triplets are fully Jotun, and as such, able to shapeshift, hence the forms they are bound to for eternity. At the time of their conception, I was unaware of my own true heritage, and so it was believed that they were half Jotun, conceived with the Jotun woman Angrboða. Now I know the truth that they are Jotun in entirety and by this they are true heirs to the throne of Jotunheim."

"Was she your wife?"

"No. What happened with Angrboða was no more than a foolish mistake. I was young then, hardly a man, and I took her, my first opportunity to bed with a woman, without considering the consequences. I had not known she was Jotun, for the form she came to me in was that of an Æsir female. It had been a plot to infiltrate the kingdom, to lend the Jotun people an upper hand against Asgard by using an heir of mine, an heir perceived to be of the line of Odin and in line for succession of the throne, as a means to bargain to unite the kingdoms. By the time I learned the truth, it was too late, and she carried my children in her womb." He had paused, shaking his head. "Unfortunately for the Jotun, Odin knew something of my parentage that no other did, and rather than allow the Jotuns to make bid for alliance, for their attempt would have succeeded far beyond their initial intentions due to my truth birthright, or to allow any prophecy to come to pass, he had my children taken and banished instead."

"What about your other son?"

"Sleipnir was… also a mistake. Odin had made barter for the construction of the walls around palace, in exchange that the builder be allowed to lay with Frigga, should he complete his task within the timeframe demanded."

Steve had blanched at that. "Wasn't Frigga Odin's wife, your— um, Thor's mother?"

"Yes, and at the time, I believed her my own mother as well. Odin had never believed it, that the task could be done in such a short time, but the builder, alone with his steed Svaðilfari, made swift progress. When it became clear that Odin would be kept to his promise and the walls would be completed, I was given the task to find a way to delay the construction. I did not wish my 'mother' to fall prey to the desires of the other man."

"So, Odin decided to cheat?"

"Mmm, yes. You did not think that the gods are above such things? Or was it that you believed it was only someone like myself that would resort to such methods?" When Steve had grown flustered at that, he'd continued. "I tried at first to distract the builder, by taking the form of a woman to tempt him from his project; but he had grown blindly in lust with Frigga that he did not take notice of my entreaties to entice him away."

"Wait, you could change into a woman?"

"Not only a woman, Captain, but almost any form I wished, even a mare, and that is what I did when my attempts to distract the builder failed. He would not be kept from his task, but Svaðilfari abandoned the wall when I passed by them late in the night as a horse as white as driven snow. He gave chase and followed me into the woods. I don't believe I need to explain the ways of animals for you to know what happened after that…"

Steve had squirmed in his chair, clearly unsettled and embarrassed by the story, as a flush and come over him. "So that's how – wait, you were the mare… _you_ gave birth to the…"

"As I said, my children, all of them, were regarded as monsters by the Æsir. By the time I bore Sleipnir, it had been discovered that both the builder and Svaðilfari were from Jotunheim, another attempt by Odin's enemies to take Asgard by the birth of a Jotun into the line of succession for the throne. If my children could not be used, a half-Jotun brother to Thor was the next logical attempt in their plans. Thor killed the builder, and Odin took Sleipnir from me at the birth, binding him forever to his form as a horse and using him as his own royal steed."

When silence had fallen between them, heavy and awkward, Steve had ventured another topic of discussion, albeit one that was no more pleasant than the one before it. "Some of the books I read at the library also mentioned you have a wife."

"That is a place where fact has been overshadowed by tales. I was betrothed, a marriage arranged by Odin. He sought to buy my forgiveness for what he had done to my children through the match, but it was poorly made. I felt nothing for the woman he had chosen, Sigyn. It was to my advantage that the union never came to fruition, Thor's coronation, his banishment and my accession to the throne of Asgard while Odin lay in the Odinsleep… it simply never came to pass. For that, I am thankful. I never desired to be wed to her, nor to any of the Æsir nobles Odin had tried to foster my interest in."

"So there was never anyone?"

"The only woman I ever held any measure of interest in wanted nothing to do with me; she was enamored with Thor, as was the majority of the court. He, being the eldest, was the glory of Asgard, the sun in the sky. I was merely the second son, and not even a true son at that, though it was not known, never meant to take the throne unless through times of desperate need should the crown prince be lost to the kingdom. As such I was given little thought or attention by the court, save what was needed to ensure I might one day make a competent advisor to Thor as a member of the High Council."

"That sounds… incredibly lonely."

"No more than waking in a time that is not your own," he'd quipped, and Steve had left off asking questions about his past love life and offspring in favor of reading to him from _The Complete Works Of William Shakespeare_ instead.

* * *

It was a week after New Year's that Steve happened upon him at one of his lowest points to date since he'd arrive on Midgard (aside being beaten within an inch of his life), his first attempt at the 'physical therapy' that the doctor had been hinting at to come. The physical therapist that had been assigned to him had shown him the walker he was to use, explained its function, and then set about getting him out of bed and moving, the simple task of moving the walker, then his own feet proving more challenging that it should have been. When he faltered, when he stumbled, the therapist urged him to continue, insisting he could take just 'one more step', then 'another'. When his legs were quivering, when his stomach felt to be in knots and he wanted nothing than to lay back down, the therapist's insistence for another five steps before he would be permitted to rest was the last straw.

The captain had entered the room at precisely the time the therapist was attempting to leave it, both men dodging first the plastic water cup, then the pillow and box of Kleenex that followed.

"This - I cannot, I _will not_– I am a _god!"_

In his room, Loki continued to let himself rage, to throw whatever he could find within reach. As the PT went down the hall calling for a Code Grey in room 405, Steve braved the chaos of his meltdown, hands held out in front himself in lieu of having no shield.

"Loki – Loki, stop!—"

He attempted to throw the walker at the Captain in his fit, but finding it far too heavy and also in losing his grip on the instrument meant for his mobility he stumbled and fell, only to have Steve catch him before he hit the floor.

He struck at the soldier with useless, pathetically weak mortal hands, his verbal abuses and curses giving way to gasping attempts at breath, some of his anger subsiding as Steve guided him back to the hospital bed and rapidly replaced with shame at his own lack of control. He was shaking, his jaw clenched tight against the burning in his own throat from his screaming and the stinging in the corners of his eyes.

Steve kept hold of him, steadying him where he sat, and he found himself utterly unable to release his own grip on the soldier's arms, desperately needing that familiar, grounding force of his presence while he struggled to regain control of himself; and when he attempted to speak again, his voice betrayed him, coming out in a choked sound rather than words, which only increased his distress.

"It's okay. It's okay, shh…"

Steve pulled him into a tentative hold, one that Loki's mind told him to refuse even as he collapsed against the other man, his eyes closing tight against the world and everything in it. He spoke again, his voice raw and hoarse this time.

"I cannot do this, I cannot bear this a minute more.! I was a _god_, a _prince_ of Asgard no matter how false, and now I am _nothing_!"

"You aren't. Don't talk like that."

The other man was obliged to pull away when the hospital staff came to subdue Loki, arguing with the orderlies that had come up from the psychiatric ward to help with the injection of sedatives and the use of restraints again. "It's alright now, everything is under control."

Loki kept his gaze trained on the floor, unable to look at any of the people now gathered in his room and watching him with concern, irritation, and mistrust. It took the Captain a few minutes to convince them to leave, but not before they were warned that another outburst from 'Mr. Barnes' would result in the use of the drugs and the straps to keep him in bed.

"I forgot myself," he finally offered as a half-hearted attempt at apology when the nurse, doctor, and orderlies had all gone and left them alone in the room.

"It's okay. You panicked. A lot has happened to you in a short period, over the last three years..."

Loki gave the walker, now tipped over a few feet from the bed, a hateful look. "Here sits the once Prince of Asgard. Unable to walk, or clothe, or bath himself without assistance."

"Loki, you're lucky to be alive. A lot of people in your place would never have survived half of what you've gone through."

He avoided Steve gaze and trained his attention on the floor again, wanting nothing more than to have a sudden burst of strength so he might walk away from everything and never look back.

Steve knelt at the bedside, placing himself in his line of vision. "Have you given up on Charlie waking up, on ever recovering?"

His answer was delayed, grudging when it came. "… No."

"Then don't be so quick to give up on yourself."

He regarded Steve with an unhappy look. "I have never been strong, never strong as Thor, nor as any of the other Æsir; but I have never been this _weak_ before. I have _none_ of my strengths anymore, my magic gone, my immortality is gone. Charlie has always been mortal, but for me this form is a cage. It is as if I can feel it breaking down and dying all around me."

Steve gave him a stern look in return. "Look, I know what it's like to feel trapped in the body you've got, that was my whole life before the Super-Serum turned me into what I am now, but you know what it was that made them pick me for the experiment over all the other candidates they had in the program, all of them bigger, stronger men than me?"

He shook his head. The soldier continued. "It wasn't what my body could do that was most important about becoming the Captain. What mattered was in here," Steve touched his fingertips to Loki's head first, then his chest over his heart, "And here. That's what makes a person truly strong and brave, and I don't think you need to look at just me to see that in somebody. I think you can find that if you look hard enough into a mirror at yourself."

"What I have seen in the reflection looking back at me for some time now, Captain, is the face of a monster, both in heritage and in deed, and a weak monster at that. And what if there is nothing in my heart?"

"You can't change where you come from, but you do have a choice on how you let it affect you and on the things that you do." Steve took his hand and gave it a small squeeze. "As far as being weak goes, I think you're selling yourself short. You survived prison, you've been homeless, in New York City of all places, you've pulled through an attack that would have left a lot of other people dead. That's a far cry from weak, Loki."

"… You have such baffling faith in one who was your enemy, Captain."

"I thought we'd been over that already; you did your time for your crimes already, and unless you're planning on being a threat, which I don't think from the looks or sounds of things that you are, you're not my enemy now. You're just another person. A mortal person, and a pretty resilient one at that."

He rolled his eyes, but Steve pressed on. "I know it doesn't really matter what I think, Loki. What matters is this; are you willing to give yourself the benefit of the doubt that you're not a monster and not weak? Are you willing to see yourself as somebody that's strong and are you brave enough to try to be the best that you can be the way that you are now? Are you willing to try to let your heart be something other than empty?"

"… Is this the manner of speech you give to everyone you encounter?"

"No." Steve smiled at him. "Just to the people who need it." The solider stood up and up-righted the walker, placing it next to the bed. "At least give what I said some thought, okay? I'm not asking you to accept it right now. Just… hold onto it until you're ready."

"And if I never am? If I am content to stew in my misery and continue to… feel this bleak, terrible way?"

"I'll still keep bringing you custard cups until you give in."

"It will take more than custard to convince me, Steve."

"I know that; but maybe if you see someone else have a little faith in you, regardless of how stubborn you're set on being, eventually you'll learn to have a little faith in yourself. So, speaking of custard – I'll be back in a few minutes."

The Captain exited the room, leaving him to sit there utterly confounded and unable to put a name to the strange churning in both his head and stomach as he mulled over all that Steve had said.


	11. Chapter 10: Money & Bribery

_Author's Note: My thanks to everyone once again for reading this story – sorry this one took a little longer to post, between work and coming down with a cold, I was delayed, but this one's a longer one! A double thank you also to everyone that has left a review; as I've said before, they're obviously not required but they are very much appreciated. _

_Warning: Nothing terrible in this chapter!_

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the hospital staff, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. Also, __Sonnet 121__ belongs to Shakespeare._

* * *

**Chapter 10: Money & Bribery**

Guilt, Steve reasoned, was the primary motivator for his behavior. At least that was the explanation he had given himself for his continued interaction with Loki.

All it took was a glimpse of the other man's scars whenever he was with him to remember that they'd been gained because of his return to Asgard; and while Steve also tried to reason that none of them had known they were sending an enemy to be tortured, he realized that no one, not he, nor Fury, not any other member on the team had questioned exactly what would happen once Loki had been taken back to Odin. Thor's word had been good enough at the time, that judgment would be passed on his brother, and it wouldn't be lenient, but there was a distinct line between justice and what had been done.

While Loki continued to recover, Steve had used his free time not spent at the hospital to do some researching.

He'd gone to the New York City Public Library and sat at length browsing everything he could find in the Reference section on Norse Mythology, about Odin, Thor, and of course, about the God of Mischief.

Much of what he'd found there baffled him, some things downright flustered him; and when he'd finished with all there was to be found in the books, he'd gone to the former god himself and inquired about what he'd read.

Loki's confirmation of Odin's actions, along with his personal insight, did nothing for Steve's opinion of Thor's father; that the god had taken Loki as a child and kept him in hopes of having a political upper hand, bothered Steve. He still didn't, and never would condone Loki's past actions, but the more he learned, the more he was beginning to understand, at least a little perhaps, on why he had eventually snapped. That Odin had also taken Loki's children away troubled Steve. While the depictions and passages in the books he'd read had described them as monsters and monstrous, the genuine expressions of affection and sorrow that came over Loki when talking about them had made Steve feel a sympathy he hadn't expected.

Loki's meltdown at the hospital only served to solidify a growing belief in Steve that in many ways, much of the former god's behavior was manifestation of the deeper problems he'd been reading about and discussing with the other man.

His newfound knowledge of Loki's past, combined with his knowledge of his more recent trials, had unintentionally fostered a deep sense of duty toward him, a budding protectiveness Steve didn't realize the full extent of until mid-January, when Thor finally returned from vacationing in New Mexico with Jane, and the team resumed their lengthy training sessions together in earnest.

* * *

"Jesus, Steve – how much weight do you have on this thing? Are you training to bench press a semi-truck?"

"Maybe."

Tony was spotting him at the weight rack as they worked circuit-style, whistling as Steve worked through another set of twenty reps. Exercise, he'd found, was one place he could usually let his mind go quiet while his body push through the rigors of the routines, but today he found his mind cluttered with too many questions bouncing around his head as he stole glances at Thor.

How much had the Asgardian known about what would happen to his adopted brother when he'd taken him back? Even if he hadn't, it should have been apparent when he'd gone to help aid in sewing Loki's mouth shut. That Thor had aided in that brutal act turned Steve's stomach…

"Cap – hey, Spangles! That wasn't twenty reps, that was forty-three."

Steve abandoned the weights and took his turn on the treadmill, Tony stepping onto the machine beside him as they each started a ten-mile run.

"What's got your boxers in a bind, Steve?" Tony adjusted the incline on his own treadmill and gave Steve a look. "Don't tell me 'nothing' because it's obviously _something_."

"I'm feeling off again today."

"Any particular reason?"

Steve kept his attention trained ahead of himself, hesitating a long moment before he answered.

"I've been doing a lot of reading lately, that's all."

"And that's got you out of whack? What have you been reading?"

"Different things." Which wasn't a lie, with all the reading he was doing at the hospital with Loki. "Classic Literature. Poetry. Some Norse myths."

Tony gave him a quizzical look. "Why? Cute girl at the bookstore got you feeling extra intellectual?"

"No, I was curious." He paused, glanced over at Thor again, who was working through sit-ups with Bruce and Clint. "I mean, how much do we really know about Thor, or about any of the other Asgardians?"

"We know Thor is our ally and he's helped us keep this planet safe from a lot of really bad guys, his own brother included."

Steve bit his own tongue and didn't say anything else; talking to Tony, to any of the team, as much as he wished otherwise, clearly wasn't going to do anything to help the matters at hand he was trying to sort out and deal with. He couldn't blame them, not if he was going to be honest with himself; given the circumstances, if he hadn't walked into the hospital and seen Loki in the Intensive Care Unit, if he didn't know all the circumstances surrounding the former god's return to earth, he would probably still share the team's sentiments toward their former enemy. As it was, however, being the only one with the knowledge he had and was struggling to keep secret was making him feel more than a little closed off and isolated from the others than he already usually did.

When it was time to spar and he and Thor matched up as usual, Steve found himself going into the same mental mode he had grown used to instantly snapping into during battles with an ease than usually didn't come during practice; and while he and Thor went their rounds, he was more efficient at his blocks, more precise on his attacks, and managed to knock the god off his feet for a record of three times in a row.

The final round, as Thor had gained the upper hand and pinned him on his back to the ground, an arm braced against his chest to keep him down, Steve found himself unintentionally wondering exactly how Thor had held Loki down while his lips had been sewn shut. The thought gave him a sudden, angry burst of energy; and swiftly kicking his legs up he lifted his hips up off the floor, caught Thor by surprise in a headlock between his knees, twisting his own body out from beneath him, and brought the god down to the ground. He pinned Thor in turn, teeth grit as he braced himself against the other man's attempts to break free.

When he'd let Thor up, he'd earned a hearty clasp on the shoulder as the god grinned. "Well fought, Captain."

"Yeah, that was a neat little bit of gymnastics you did with the legs, Cap, I didn't know you had it in you," Clint said from across the gym where he and Bruce had been watching them.

Tony, also standing with the archer and the scientist, didn't say anything, but watched Steve with a steady look that made him turn away and excuse himself to go wash up in the locker room.

* * *

Heading into the hospital later that afternoon, Steve was sidetracked by one of the nurses that worked that floor.

"If you could visit with our financial officer, Mr. Pratten, at some point today, it would be appreciated," the young woman said, almost nervously, "Since we have you down on their charts as the emergency contact…"

Steve headed to the office he'd been told he'd find Mr. Pratten, the older gentleman instructing Steve to take a seat before launching directly into the matter he needed to discuss.

"I'm not sure if you're aware, but when we have cases such as that of the young boy and Mr. Barnes, there is fund that people like Mr. Stark and other contributors have established to aid in the costs of medical services for those in need. Unfortunately the amount of funds we can allot to any specific person has a limit, and in the cases of both the child and Mr. Barnes, we've reached that point." Mr. Pratten glanced at Steve over his glasses, then back at the paperwork he had laid out on the desk between them. "I'm correct in the understanding that both were homeless?"

"Yes."

"And I am also correct in the understanding that Mr. Barnes is without steady employment? That neither he nor the child has any family that might be able to lend financial assistance?"

Steve shook his head. "No.. I mean you're correct on both counts, sir."

Mr. Pratten sighed and leaned back in his chair, considering for a moment before he continued. "I'll be frank with you Captain-"

"Please, you can just call me Mr. Rogers."

"… Mr. Rogers, both Charlie and Mr. Barnes will need to be moved to a different facility at the end of the week. Now, there are a couple of rehabilitation and continued care centers that also offer funding for homeless people, and Charlie may qualify for other aid as he is under the age of eighteen. However, and again, Mr. Rogers, I'm going to be frank, while these services will be better than nothing, the kind of care that both of these patients need is greater than the services that these centers will be able to give them."

"What kind of care would you recommend?"

"I'm not their physicians, so I can't give you all the specifics; however Mr. Barnes' doctor has stated in his notes that Mr. Barnes is going to require extensive physical therapy in order to reach his greatest potential for recovery. With the child, it's hard to say, as he's still in a coma. If you want to get an idea of what the doctors would recommend, I'd suggest trying to find a chance to speak with each of them."

"… If something changes, if there's a way for them to get the financial assistance they need, what's the latest you need to know by?"

"We'd need to know in two days."

"Thank you for keeping me informed, Mr. Pratten." Steve shook the other man's hand. "I'll be contacting you as soon as I figure out if there's anything that can be done."

Taking the billing information Mr. Pratten had given him, Steve went in search of the doctors, eventually tracking Charlie's physician down, then Loki's, speaking with each of them about the best choices for further care for both patients compared to the options that were available to them based on their need for funding assistance.

By the time he'd finished, it was early evening, and he made his visit to Charlie more than three hours later than usual, then headed to Loki's room, knocking at the door lightly.

"… Come in."

Steve entered the room. Loki was sitting up in bed, his gaze fixed out the window at the cityscape beyond while the television played, droning the History Channel on low.

"Hey, sorry I'm later than usual. Some things came up."

"I had begun to think perhaps you had forgotten."

"No, I didn't forget." Steve took a seat, glancing at the dinner tray at the bedside, the chicken breast and rice (as Loki had finally been allowed solid food again), and cup of custard untouched. "You not feeling well today?"

The other man made a small sound of indifference and shrugged his unbandaged shoulder.

"You need to eat."

When no response came Steve rose from the chair and lowered the bed railing, the action earning him a questioning glance. Sitting at the edge of the bed he picked up the cup of custard and opened it, then spooning a bit out, held it up in front of Loki's mouth.

"I'm not a child, Captain. I don't need to hand fed."

"If you didn't need someone to coax you to do it, you would have already eaten," Steve countered. Loki gave him a sullen look, and then closed his mouth over the spoon, biting down on it stubbornly as he did and giving it a small tug.

"If you want to make this harder than it needs to be, go ahead, but I'm not going anywhere until you're done."

After a moment the other man relented and let go of the spoon, swallowing the custard, though he continued to give Steve a mildly contemptuous frown.

Within a few minutes the custard was gone, and when he went for the rice and chicken, Loki had snorted and taken the fork himself, muttering under his breath at how impossible Steve was, was only made Steve smile as he felt a surge of accomplishment.

When Loki had finished eating, Steve offered to read to him, and the dark-haired man chose _The Complete Works Of William Shakespeare__._ Picking up the book Steve flipped through it, then paused at the passage that had been underlined and circled.

"I was meaning to ask you, why did you pick these books? Was there something that made you want to buy them?"

Loki hesitated, and then avoided his gaze. "I.. _acquired_ them because the subjects intrigued me."

Steve couldn't understand for a moment why the way Loki had worded his sentence felt off - and then he understood with sudden disappointment what Loki was pointedly not saying to him. "Did… you didn't pay for them, did you? Did you _steal_ them?"

"It's hard to purchase goods when one is without coin, Captain. In fact it is rather hard to do anything. When I finally was able to procure a day's work at the docks, which was only three, perhaps four times at the most, I must admit I used the wages to obtain food and drink, or a few articles of Midgardian clothing."

Steve looked down at the book in his hand, struggling between his instinctual urge to use the moment as a morality lesson and his sympathy, especially after spending the afternoon discussing the medical costs and needs that were ahead that Loki obvious did not have the funds for. In the end, his sympathy won out.

"Still… why did you pick these books specifically? What made you want to read them?"

"Why does one read anything, engage in any activity? An interested is garnered, a part of the mind stimulated by the content or action." Loki gestured toward the stack of books on the window ledge. "It is my understanding that the Midgardian poet Baudelaire sought to extract the beauty from within the malignant when he wrote _The Flowers Of Evil_. To find good within evil. Of the other books, well… _The Prince_I chose as it would seem that this Machiavelli shares some beliefs in matters of the workings of the political system as I sought to rule by as regent in Asgard, and as to the work of Hugo, I find myself in a similar bind as his primary protagonist."

"And the Shakespeare?" He held up the book in question.

Loki nodded, and then closing his eyes, began to recite from memory;

_" 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd,  
When not to be receives reproach of being;  
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deem'd  
Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing:  
For why should others' false adulterate eyes  
Give salutation to my sportive blood?  
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,  
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?  
No, I am that I am, and they that level  
At my abuses reckon up their own:  
I may be straight though they themselves be bevel;  
By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown;  
Unless this general evil they maintain,  
All men are bad and in their badness reign…"_

Steve found himself momentarily speechless after hearing the flawless recitation. Opening his eyes, Loki glanced at him again. "Not only does your Shakespeare write with great understanding of many things, it is beautifully written prose."

"That was great. You've been on back here on earth for just a couple months and already you're memorizing Shakespeare?"

"I was a god, Captain. I have had not merely years, but centuries in which to become a proficient study at whatever I put my mind to learning."

"It sounded… right. The way you said it. I don't know how to explain it, it just… you've got a way with words."

"They did not call me _Silvertongue_ for nothing."

Something in Loki's tone, bitterness and perhaps the smallest trace of sadness makes it obvious that the nickname wasn't given as a compliment.

"If they meant because you're eloquent with the way that you talk, then they're right," Steve offered.

There was a paused between them as Loki looked away, but not before he caught a small trace of a crooked smile tugging at the other man's lips. All of Loki's smiles, rare though they had been, were crooked because of the scars, Steve had noted days earlier, and as it had done the first time he'd realized it, the expression caused a twinge of empathy and triggered the budding protectiveness he felt toward the other man. After another moment Loki spoke again.

"If you would, I should like us to continue with _King Lear_, if we may. You may not possess the same natural ability with words as I, Captain, but it is pleasant to hear you read nonetheless."

Steve nodded and began to read aloud, though with nowhere near the fluidity and ease the other man had spoken, but somehow the small, almost backward compliment Loki had given him in return made it okay.

* * *

The following day, directly after training with the other Avengers, Steve followed Tony up to the kitchen to talk

"You said last night when you called that you wanted to take a look at your stock portfolio?"

"That's right."

"I remember when I had to talk you into thinking about stocks in the first place, what was it, a year ago?"

"Almost three years ago," Steve corrected.

"Fine, almost three years ago, you know me, if I can't measure it with a shot glass this early in the day, I'm screwed."

"Tony, it's after noon."

"Like I said, _too early_, but that's not the point. Point is, I'm glad to hear you're thinking about this stuff now. Your future security and all."

Thanks to Tony, Steve had found himself more than comfortably well off; the billionaire had generously offered each of his team members a chance to purchase Stark Industries stocks and bonds, and within the first year of their investments, each of them had seen a steady rise in share profits. Since Steve lived modestly, he'd been able to invest each holiday bonus from S.H.I.E.L.D. as well as a percentage of his yearly salary.

"JARVIS, bring up Captain Rogers financial information, would you?"

"Right away, sir."

Within a few seconds the computer screen closest to them, one in the wall directly beside the refrigerator, lit up and a spreadsheet of figures and totals was before them.

"What can I say, Cap," Tony gestures to the numbers , before rummaging in the fridge for leftover takeout, "You've got quite a retirement fund started for yourself."

Steve looked over the figures, mentally calculating the information before he spoke. "… I want you to sell half of the shares."

"_What_?"

"You heard me." He glanced at Tony, nodding. "Half. I'll invest the bonus from Christmas and double the percentage I usually put in from my salary for six months to make up for it."

"I can't say that's going to be your best choice, Steve. Shares are at a high right now, you're going to be paying at least forty percent more per share than what you initially got the for if things stay that way."

"That's fine." Steve looked over the numbers again. "It's fine."

"Steve?" Tony was watching him intently. "It's really not my business whatever the hell you decide to do with your money, but I'm asking, as a friend – is everything okay? I mean, you haven't gone and gotten yourself into trouble have you?

Steve felt himself flush. "What do you mean?"

"I mean are you in financial trouble? Getting blackmailed and needing to pay someone off? Anything like that? Or you planning on jumping ship and disappearing on us for a few months like Bruce does from time to time?"

Steve kept his focus on the computer screen and did his best to remain calm. "No, nothing like that. It's… for a charity project, Tony."

"Oh yeah?" Tony leaned against the counter and stabbed at a bit of General Tao's Chicken with a chopstick. "Which organization? I can warn you if they're going to try and scam you or not or if the funds have a tendency not to make it to the people you're hoping to benefit from it. Not all the charities out there are the genuine article."

Steve shook his head. "No, it's… it has to do with the kids I got out of that place last month. That's really all I want to say about it Tony, other than I know what I'm doing. This is what I want to do."

"Fine, suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you about the share prices when you're ready to invest again."

"Thanks Tony."

Tony chewed thoughtfully, then glanced at him again. "You're getting better at your attacks, by the way. I've gotta admit, it's a hell of a show watching Thor's expression every time you knock him on his ass. Have you been practicing outside of our little morning get-togethers?"

Steve shook his head. "No, just – more focused, I reckon."

"Well, keep it up, would you?" Tony grinned at him. "If you can manage a straight week of getting Thor down three times a day, Clint owes me fifty and a Bruce will owe me a bottle of Southern Comfort."

"You guys are betting on us?" He gave Tony a disapproving look.

"Hey, at least I put my faith in on your side. If I lose I owe Clint a new bow he's got a boner for and Bruce gets a day at the spa."

"You're a billionaire, Tony, you don't need the money and you could have just bought yourself the alcohol."

"Yeah, but where the hell's the fun in that?"

* * *

When Steve went to the hospital later the same day, he made a change of the usual routine and went to visit Loki first before he did anything else.

The other man was perched on the edge of his bed while a nurse slipped a pair of hospital socks on him, Loki making a face as she did. "Must I truly?"

"Yes, Mr. Barnes, the physical therapist ordered it. Two laps around the hall today, and don't even think about skipping one. The nurse at the station will be counting and she'll tattle on you if you don't do exactly what's expected."

"I do what I want," Loki muttered as the nurse pushed the walker closer to him.

She gave him a chiding look. "What you want better be what was ordered, otherwise none of that pudding you like so much."

"Custard," Loki corrected, then, noticing Steve standing outside the door, he brightened. "The good Captain will save me from such a fate as a day without custard, won't you?"

The nurse gave him a look, a Steve shrugged, almost embarrassed at being caught between a rock and a hard place. "I did sort of make a promise I'd deliver on the custard."

"Ha." Loki gave the nurse a triumphant look, and she scowled at him in return.

"If you do your two laps though I could always bring something new," Steve added quickly, not wanting to give the other man an instant out from what he was supposed to be doing to recover.

"Something else?" Loki's eyes shifted from the nurse to him. "What sort of… _something else_?"

"You ever had a donut?"

Loki shook his head, and Steve grinned.

"Well, then you're in for a treat. There's this one called a bismark, dough on the outside, custard on the inside."

"Dough with custard?" Loki's nose wrinkled slightly.

"Trust me, it's good. Though," Steve winked at the nurse, who was watching the exchange, "No donut if you don't walk your two laps."

The nurse grinned as she exited the room. Loki's wrinkled nose changed to a full-on scowl.

"Bribery. You believe such a thing will work on me?"

"Maybe."

Loki's scowled deepened. Steve changed tactics slightly.

"If you do what the physical therapist tells you for the rest of the week, I'll bring you something better than custard or a donut.

Loki hesitated, looking as if he were struggling with some internal battle, before asking, albeit grudgingly, "And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"Another book."

"What book?"

"We can negotiate about which one it is. Sound fair to you?"

In spite of the scowl that remained on the other man's face, Steve knew he'd won as Loki reached for the walker and hoisted himself off the bed.

"You are here early. I had not expected you… until later."

Steve can't help but wonder if he's imagining it or if there's an unspoken 'to come at all' in Loki's words. Just in case there is, he shrugs. "I thought earlier would be better than almost too late like yesterday."

He catches the surprised, then grateful expression that passes over Loki's face before it disappears behind the look of neutrality he usually manages to maintain.

"Yes, earlier is better than later."

He stayed with Loki for a couple hours, joining him on the slow walk around the hospital wing once, then twice, and then remained a while afterward to read more _King Lear_ before excusing himself to go check on Charlie.

At the mention of the boy, Loki's expression which had been almost peaceful while Steve had read to him, became wistful. "Will you come back and let me know how he is faring today?"

Steve nodded. "Of course. I'll come back and let you know, and stay for dinner, if you want."

"I do, yes."

Alright. I'll be back in an hour or so."

Steve headed down two floors to check on Charlie, disappointed at the lack of change in the boy's coma but as always heartened to hear that no complications had occurred since the previous day, and that the vital signs remained strong and external injuries all but gone; and when he'd finished sitting with the boy, recounting another tale from the war as he'd started to do during his visits, he made a detour on his way to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat for dinner.

Heading to Mr. Pratten's office he went in, and with the surprised financial advisor looking on, signed his own name and banking information to the billing records for both Charlie and Loki, glad he'd taken Tony's advice the three years prior in investing, and glad that, for the first time, he felt like he had something worthwhile to spend it on.


	12. Chapter 11: Coming Change

_Author's Note: Loki's perspective, here we come again._

_Warning: Again, nothing terrible this chapter. I've saving it for a future one. _

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the hospital staff, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 11: Coming Change**

"I knew you'd like it."

"Mmm?" Loki glanced up at Steve mid-lick, his fingers still covered in the sticky glaze left from the bismark, and felt himself blush, caught in the midst of such an undignified act. He feigned wiping at a non-existent crumb from the corner of his mouth in attempt to make himself appear less childish.

Steve was still grinning at him. "I said, I knew you'd like it."

"Yes, well… I did earn it, did I not? And the two before it, and my book as well." Loki wiped his fingers on the napkin Steve had brought him the donut on, removing all traces of the sweet treat before he touched the book. He'd seen it in the used bookstore when he'd taken the copy of _The Prince_ and had intended to go back and take it another day, but never got the chance when he'd been attacked and subsequently had been unable to do anything while injured and unconscious for so long.

Now the hardbound edition of _White Fang_rested on his lap, and as Steve had brought it for him, he knew it was undoubtedly not stolen. He traced a fingertip lightly, hesitantly over the embossed design of the howling canine on the cover and felt, not for the first time while looking at it, a pang of longing for his lost son Fenrir.

At first the notion had rankled him, that the Captain thought him easy enough to manipulate with simple bribery, but the other man's expression had been so open, so honest as he'd made the offer of procuring a book, any book he might want within reason, that he found himself caving to the idea. Why should he not make the most of an opportunity presented to him? It was a payment for good behavior, and not a gift, therefore no further indebting himself to a man that he was already deeply and unsettlingly indebted to.

"I got the right one?" Steve was watching him still, and he nodded.

"Yes… it is exactly the book I requested."

The other man let out an exaggerated breath, then laughed. "Good. I didn't want to mess it up, not after how well you've been doing following the doctor's orders."

Mindless, ever-increasing walks around the hospital floor. Loki had wanted to laugh when the physical therapist had pronounced that he was making progress and getting stronger, laugh bitterly at the notion that the weak action of walking (more like shuffling, he felt) was _nothing_ when he had once gone into innumerable battles against the foes of Asgard, _nothing_ when he had learned to pass from world to world, a god to be reckoned with should his path be crossed and challenged. Instead of laughing, however, he kept dutifully silent and earned his donuts and now his prized novel for his pains.

"Do you want me to read any of it to you?" Steve started to hold a hand out for the book, but withdrew it when Loki shook his head.

"No… no, not this one. Not yet. Perhaps when we have finished with the Shakespeare."

"Sure, whatever you want."

_Whatever you want_. The words spoken to him by someone else without prompting, without manipulative coercing, nearly made him giddy with elation that he felt foolish for after the initial thrill had passed.

The concept was foreign to him still, that he was being _asked_, and not _told_ what to want. And when faced with issues he did not want, rather than ruling with an unbending will and by force, that Steve continued to talk with him, to find a way to convince him to do what was needed.

Steve stayed with him for dinner, as was the routine now, and having finished _King Lear_ started reading _Titus __Andronicus_ to him; it wasn't until after the Captain had left that, while he sat alone in his hospital room, that Loki silently, unhappily admitted to himself that the situation he found himself in now with the Captain, that man's infernally persistent and successful way of persuading him to do things, was in truth not entirely new. Had bribery and also willing assent to his demands not played a part in much of his early years, when he had been a child running wild in the palace halls? It had, once long ago.

* * *

While Odin had expected his word to be obeyed outright, something Loki had done initially out of sheer awe and fear of the man he had then believed was his father, Frigga had always been more lenient with her children.

When he was still be quite small, it had become habit for him to hide when it was time for lessons with their tutor, eager to escape out into the garden where he could hide behind the tall hedges and under the cover f low-hanging branches where he could practice his newfound ability to conjure little bursts of energy from his fingertips without anyone seeing, it was Frigga, not Odin, who had taken him aside and in hushed tones explained to him why it was important for little princes to attend their lessons. More than that, she had been willing to bribe him into doing as he was supposed to do but did not want to.

"Someday, my son, when you and Thor are both grown, it will fall to one of you to take your father's place on the throne."

"Why? The throne belongs to father."

"Because all kings rise and eventually fall, Loki." She had taken his hand and led him inside from the gardens where she'd found him, guiding him through the halls toward the library where he was supposed to have been. "This is the way of things, and to learn this, to learn of how and why, you must go to your lessons."

"It's boring, mother." In truth, he'd hated it not only because of the monotony of listening to their tutor, Kvasir, speak for hours on end, but because whenever it was time for a question to be answered, Thor was always chosen to speak first and himself second, or he was not called on to speak at all.

"Patience is also something that you must learn." Pausing at the library doors she'd knelt down to look at him at eye level, dotting a fingertip to his nose. "I know that you dislike your tutor, but he is one of the wisest men in all of Asgard. Perhaps instead of being mindful of what you dislike of the lessons, you might learn to be grateful of the things that you do like of them."

"What things should I like about it?" He'd asked, only half-meaning to be insolent, but mostly because he'd wanted her guidance.

"Do you enjoy the topics you are learning of?" He'd shrugged, and Frigga had tried another approach. "What of your lesson books. Do you like your books?"

He'd considered and then nodded. The books contained the finely inked pictures that he could look at while the tutor droned on, and sometimes, when he felt as if he were invisible, a silent and unimportant addition to what he'd learned early on to think of as Thor's lessons that he was obliged to sit in on, he imagined being instead in the company of the beings they were being taught about. Perhaps the primitive race of Midgard would not ignore him if he were to sit with them and would allow him to speak, or perhaps the light elves of Alfheim would allow him to forgo lessons altogether to explore their realm. Perhaps, a hope above all hopes, somewhere in the other realms, there was a place where he might go and be treated as well as his brother, where he might finally be asked to speak first, where he would not be laughed at for the ability to call magic to his hand and his lack of skill with the sword.

"Good, my son. Turn then to your books when you find your lessons wanting. Listen to your tutor, respect your brother. If you can do this for me, if you can be good for the remainder of the season, then I shall give you a little reward."

He had struggled and succeeded (though just hardly) to do as Frigga had asked him, and when he had gone running to her at the end of the season, tugging at her hand in eager anticipation of his reward for his good behavior, she had taken him out to the gardens herself, given him a slice of honeycomb to suck upon, and let him sit in her lap while she sang. It was an indulgence that the other children, Thor and his brothers companion friends, Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun, would have mocked him for if they had known, but he guarded the secret time with his mother jealously. So pleased by the turn of events, that he had a chance at least with one parent to be the sole focus of attention, that when the next season began he begged her to make another bargain and she had agreed.

As he'd grown older, the manner of the rewards changed; eventually when that day of reward came after a time he no longer sat in her lap but at her side, and the honeycomb was replaced first with golden apple slices, then with cups of warmed mead; and then there had come a day when their formal lessons had finished, when he'd gone out to the garden in anticipation to meet her and she was not there. After that, there was never again a time when she would make a secret deal with him in exchange for good behavior, now that he was a grown man and expected to do so without prompting or reward.

* * *

He continued to endure his daily sessions with the physical therapist, and the visits with Steve that followed, always marked with a cup of custard, or a donut, or one of the recently introduced little bowls of gelato that Steve had brought him on a whim one day, always soothed his frustration at the addition of another lap around the hospital wing, soothed his desire to throw something because of some new set of stretches he was instructed to do morning, afternoon, and evening.

Steve, it turned out, was an advocate of physical activity, though, to his credit, not so much that he never gave thought to anything else, unlike most of other strongly built warriors that Loki had known most of his life. Whenever he was overly sullen and even the sight of a bismark didn't quell his mood, the Captain would urge him to do his stretches, even going so far as to engage in the activity with him.

While he sat on the edge of the bed, Steve would sit on the edge of the chair at the bedside and they would go through the motions. The sincere way that the soldier would count out the seconds that Loki was supposed to hold each pose made him outwardly roll his eyes even as the interest the other man continued to consistently maintain in his well-being made him feel a strange sensation coiling in the pit of his stomach.

Sooner than he expected the walker was exchanged for a new instrument that would garner his distaste and resentment; a cane.

With the cane, he felt as if once again he had to learn all over how to walk because it changed the balance of his weight as he stepped, and he faltered frequently no longer having somewhere to place both hands for balance. He found his temper strained even more than it had been before, but Steve bore his little outbursts time with such patience and unwavering faith that it would get better, that Loki found himself ashamed on more than one occasion that he felt as angry and frustrated as he did at times.

Still, there were other times when he simply did not care and he allowed himself the indulgence of being extra disagreeable and downright peevish.

One afternoon, when he was especially out of sorts and had managed to trip himself going around a corner, ending up unceremoniously on the floor on his rear, Steve disappeared from the room after he'd recounted the embarrassing incident to him, and rather than returning with a cup of custard, brought a wheelchair in.

Loki recoiled at the sight of it.

"What is that for?"

"It's for you." Steve patted the seat. "Climb aboard."

"I am not sitting in that _thing_."

"Come on, I promise it'll be worth it."

"I fail to see how it could be worthwhile."

"Not even for a surprise?"

Having seen what surprises usually meant with Steve, he moved into the chair on wheels, albeit with no little amount of dirty looks given toward the other man accompanying the action. Steve just kept smiling.

He kept his eyes fixed over Steve's shoulder as the man knelt down and helped him secure his feet in the footrests, trying not to sound as interested in whatever he had planned than he really was.

"Where do you plan to take me in this contraption?"

"You'll see."

"Mmph."

Steve wheeled him out of the room, but not before taking a blanket off the bed and covering his lap with it, and headed for the elevator at the far end of the hall. Already he was struggling not to display his genuine pleasure at the change of events, having been stuck in the same wing of the hospital since his transfer up from the Intensive Care Unit.

"Where are we going?" He asked, unable to keep his curiosity to himself as they stepped into the elevator.

"The elevator."

"Yes, but where are we talking it _to_?"

"The third floor."

"What is on the third floor?"

"More hospital." The smile was evident in Steve's voice behind him as they waited for the elevator to move.

"How clever," Loki muttered in return, more darkly than he'd meant sound as he'd never been good with surprises that he himself wasn't the instigator of.

The silence that immediately followed made him regret his tone of voice; a feeling that only doubled when they'd reached the third floor and Steve wheeled him out into the Pediatric wing, the bright and colorful murals painted on the walls, murals meant to brighten up the otherwise drab hospital halls for the children staying there, making him instantly understand the purpose for their being there.

"—Charlie-" The boy's name caught in his throat as Steve took him down the hall toward one of the more secluded rooms.

"Like I said earlier, he's still not awake, but I thought maybe you'd like to see him, now that the doctor and the physical therapist said you're strong enough to start moving around more." Steve stopped them at the door and moved to crouch down beside the wheelchair. "There's something else. Something I've been meaning to tell you all afternoon. The doctor said that you're gotten well enough that it's time to move you to a rehabilitation center where you can finish recovering."

Loki stiffened at the news avoided the other man's gaze. "I suppose this means you are still not planning to turn me over to your superior officers."

"No." Steve placed a hand on his arm. "I've told you before and I'll say it again. You're not the enemy right now."

"And Charlie?"

"He's going to stay here for a while. He's not ready to be moved just yet, and I'm waiting to see if I can't have him transferred to the same place you're going."

"Where is it that I am being taken?"

"Langone Medical Center over on First Avenue. You'll be staying there as an inpatient until you're back up on your feet completely."

Loki was quiet for a few moments, then glanced first at Steve's hand still resting on his arm, then up to look him in the eye. "And you will… attempt to see that Charlie is bought there as well."

"Yes I will. I am trying. I've already got him name on the waiting list. It wasn't easy getting a spot for you but since you're conscious and he's not that made a difference. It's a great center; the doctors are top notch, not that they aren't good here too… I just think you're going to like it a lot better there. It's meant for recovery so you'll get more one-on-one attention with the doctors and therapists, and you'll be able get more treatment."

He frowned at Steve, utterly perplexed. "I don't understand why you've taken it upon yourself to put your time and concern into what happens to me. Concern for Charlie, I would understand, but.."

"It's the right thing to do." Steve's grip tightened slightly on his arm. "In a city of over eight million people I'm the one that came across you here. I knew – know you. Do you really think I could have just walked away after I saw you in the Intensive Care Unit."

"Of course not. It would be unwise to leave a dangerous being unattended."

"You're not exactly a major threat to earth right now, no offense."

"We _were_ enemies before, Captain, whatever you think me now."

"Would you stop calling me Captain? Don't think I don't notice that you do it when you're irritated, or don't like a conversation topic, or that you're not in control of a situation." He opened his mouth to argue, instantly angry at the observation, but Steve continued before he could speak. "Just call me Steve. It's what my friends call me."

Awkward silence fell between them. Loki cleared his throat, glancing toward the hospital room door. "I hardly think that your _friends_ would be grateful to know you think of someone such as myself in the same manner."

"I pick who my friends are. My friends don't get to pick my friends."

Steve stood up before he could say anything more, and he was wheeled into the room. As soon as he saw Charlie, Loki's attention was solely on him and not their conversation, and he took Charlie's hand with his own once the wheelchair was placed at the bedside.

Steve put on the brake and patted his shoulder. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes. I've been able to see him almost every day, but you haven't."

"Steve." The blond paused at the door and looked back at him. Loki swallowed against the lump in his throat that had returned at the sight of the boy, and then gave him a grateful look. "Thank you."

"Sure."

"I am also sorry."

Steve gave him a questioning look.

"For my… ungratefulness, in the elevator. I did not know this is where or why you were taking me from my room."

Steve gave him a small smile. "Hey. You're forgiven, okay? Now I'm going to go get something for dinner, and then I'll be back to get you."

When the soldier had left, Loki found himself still struggling against the inability to swallow, not only because of the presence of the child he'd sworn to keep safe and had failed to protect from their attackers, but at the actions and kindness that the other man continued to give in spite of his complete unworthiness of it.


	13. Chapter 12: Friends & Family

_Author's Note: Again, back to Steve, and again, back to the bastardizing of the Marvel Universe and Norse Mythology. Thanks for reading and for the continued support and feedback with this story! I'm glad it's being well received; I wasn't expecting this much of a response about it, but I am super excited for you all as the next chapters (of which I have a lot of already written in my head) are put down in text. The pace of the story should begin to pick up soon again; I know this may be slow with a lot of the laying of groundwork that's happening in these recent chapters, so once more, thank you with sticking with it and continuing to read! _

_Warning: It's going to get a little technical, where medical terms are concerned. That said, mentions of physical and emotional trauma._

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel._

* * *

**Chapter 12: Friends & Family**

The transition of moving Loki from St. Luke's to Langone Medical Center went smoothly; Steve took a taxi early in the morning to the hospital and filled out the release forms, and then waited in the hospital lobby with the other man for the Medical Center van to come and pick them up.

Loki sat quietly in a hospital wheelchair as the minutes passed by, his few belongings in a large, nondescript blue plastic bag with the name "James Barnes" written in black permanent marker held close in his lap, and eyed not only the people around them but the world beyond through the hospital's sliding doors. He looked in that moment, Steve realized, more human than ever. The former god was dressed in a blue button-down shirt of Steve's that was at least two sizes too large and had a blanket thrown across his lap to hide, as he'd called them, 'most regrettable trousers', a pair of Felix The Cat pajama pants also borrowed from Steve. Nothing about him now betrayed that he was the same individual that had, three years before, tried to take over the world.

Another of the same hospital bags rested on the floor beside Steve's chair, Loki's clothing that the emergency room staff had been required to ruin weeks before when they had to cut them from his body.

"Don't worry, after we get you checked into the center, I'll go see what I can find that's in your size and more your taste," Steve promised. "No pants with comic strip characters, I promise, and I'll wash what they didn't have to tear up and bring it back to you."

Loki looked at him over the bag of things in his lap and frowned. "I've no money to purchase such things."

Steve shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll get them for you."

The other man looked away, clearly embarrassed by the way a small tinge of color came to his face, and how he tightened grip on the bag he held, the plastic edges twisted between fingertips. "What must I do to earn such a reward?"

"What?"

"What must I do?"

"Oh." Steve shook his head. "Nothing."

The other man's expression became troubled. "Nothing?"

"Yeah, nothing. Think of it as a 'get well' present."

Rather than easing Loki's worry, Steve saw his words only seemed to increase it.

Loki fairly stammered in response. "I—It is… I cannot accept."

"Why not?"

"I am already indebted to you."

"What? No, you're not."

Loki scoffed and shot him a doubtful look. "For your discretion? That you have kept your word of not revealing my whereabouts? I am indeed indebted, far more than I would have ever allowed to happen of my own accord had there been a choice. I would not do so further."

Steve scooted his own chair closer to him and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Loki, I don't know how things work on Asgard, but here on earth we don't require a friend to do something in return for us for everything we do for them." He noticed, not for the first time, that the use of the word 'friend' in a sentence caused the other man to draw a small intake of breath, and also subtle fidgeting in him. When he'd started to address Loki by the term three days prior, it had garnered the same response, and every time since. "Is that how it is there? I don't mean to upset or offend some social code you've lived by most of your life, I just-"

"I would not truly know how _friends_ behave toward one another in Asgard, Captain." Loki kept his gaze directed away from him. "As such would have required the experiencing in having one. It has been my experience however, that when members of the court, equals in status, did anything of a gracious nature it was for mutual benefit or for their own gain entirely."

"- You haven't had a friend before?"

"Why must you persist with these questions?" Loki's snappish reaction was somewhat diminished by a weary look. "It matters little now. I am no longer in Asgard, nor will I ever return."

"I'm sorry if it seems like I'm prying. I'm just trying to understand why you seem determined not to let me help you without your being worried or upset because of it."

Silence stretched between them and Steve had was almost ready to abandon the topic altogether and try to talk about something different when Loki spoke again.

"No."

"No?"

"… I have had no _friends_ in Asgard since I was quite young, a child, and after… there was a disagreement between us and it was no more."

Curious, he pressed a little for more. "How old were you?"

"Perhaps two hundred seasons, or even a little less."

Steve blinked. "I don't know what the translates to for earth age."

"Very close in age to Charlie's age, since you require a point of reference."

"So only about eleven or twelve years old by earth's time."

Loki nodded. When there was another span of silence, Steve spoke again.

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

There was another pause, then Loki spoke, his gaze fixed out the hospital doors and his words slow.

"Thor was always the golden child, always the one that the other children of the noble-born flocked to play with. The Æsir have always prized strength over all other skills, and at a young age, as few as seventy seasons, Thor was the one that delighted in brawling with the other boys, in throwing rocks at the birds with his friends, at staging mock battles. He was a strongly build boy even in our boyhood. I, however, was his direct opposite, as I still am today. I preferred to stay at Frigga's side until it was no longer allowed and I was expected to go play with the other children."

Loki paused again, his lips twisting into an expression of bitter remembrance. "Thor found sport in pitting the other children against me, in casting me as the bligesnipe or worse in their games. I found solace only with one other child that the other boys deemed unworthy of their time and friendship because she was female. Naturally Thor and his companions thought this a terrible thing, that I, a prince of Asgard, preferred the company of a girl to that of other boys, and how could I not find their games exhilarating? How could I ruin their fun by refusing to do as they bid me to do?"

"I can appreciate that," Steve offered, realizing he and Loki had at least one childhood experience in common. "I was too small when I was a growing up to really join in any games with other kids, or when I did I usually got beat to a pulp."

Loki nodded. "Barton informed me of what he knew from your files. He said your current physical state was due to the nature of the serum you were injected with."

"That's right." Steve nodded, and then turned the topic back to the other man again. "So what happened?"

"Sif was my sole companion many times in our childhood, the only one that would hide from the others when they sought to draw us into their games as the hunted or the enemy, the only one that would go to the library with me and read for hours. That was the way of things until the time came when she grew a little older and much stronger, and learned to favor their ways. Eventually she joined them." A sneer appeared on Loki's lips as he continued. "She had always favored the books of great warriors and battles when she was before too young and too small for such things, when she had not been accepted and viewed as a lesser. When we had reached our Seasons of Change, however, when we began to shape into the men and women we would someday be, when we began to cast off the vestiges of childhood, she blossomed rapidly. Thor… took a sudden interest in her, where he had never done so before. He and the other boys that would become the Warriors Three embraced her into their fold. She found she only had eyes for Thor, and I was… forgotten."

"So you were still the only one left out." Steve hesitated, then decided not to ask the other question that came to his mind, on whether or not the girl had anything to do with what Loki had said some time before about there being someone he'd cared about in Asgard.

Loki laughed and nodded, a distinct hint of malice evident in his voice. "Oh yes, and I behaved _most abominably_ in retaliation for it eventually. I bided my time and it was many seasons and _many_ other slights and unkind things later that I came upon her one day where she slept in the garden. I cut off her hair which she and others prized and adored. I was beaten soundly for it, and made to go on a quest of retribution to obtain new hair for her. She never forgave me, not only for taking her hair but for never properly returning it to its original state. Where once it was as golden as Thor's it became and now ever is as black as night, as dark as my own. A small reminder to her of the prince she left for the prince she grew to favor."

Steve felt at a loss for words, but was saved by the arrival of the Medical Center transport van from struggling with what to say in return to everything Loki had told him. Even at a loss, though, he felt that he was slowly making progress with the other man. Even if Loki wasn't ready to admit that there was some semblance of friendship growing between them, his increasing trust and ability to confide in him gave Steve hope that he was on the right track.

* * *

The next day when Steve went to Stark Tower to exercise, he was surprised to see that both Tony and Thor were already there setting up, the billionaire mostly watching while he directed the Asgardian which weights to add to the machines and where.

"Hey Cap. Good to see you, we missed you yesterday." Tony punched him in the arm as he passed and set his gym bag down.

"I see you've given Thor my job." Steve tried to sound neutral as possible.

"Well, just showing him the ropes, for the days you can't make it. I wasn't sure what time or if you'd be coming today. Now you can help him while I go make a Starbucks run. Bruce won't be here until ten, I can't live that long without my coffee, and _someone_ broke the coffee pot last night paying too much attention to the new dress a certain assassin wore to movie night."'

"Clint owes you a new one now I take it?"

"You'd better believe it. That, or a fifth of Jameson. Or both, if he's a real buddy. We'll see."

Tony skirted out of the room, leaving Steve with Thor, who lifted a hand when he turned and noticed him there.

"Captain! What need we do next? Stark did not yet tell me."

Steve wandered over slowly, glancing at the weight stacks and the other exercise equipment that had been laid out. "It looks like you've got everything already."

Thor looked pleased and took a seat on one of the weight benches. "How do you fare, Rogers? Stark tells me you have sought time for your own thoughts as of late."

Steve nodded a little and took a seat on the weight bench opposite. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Thor nodded as well. "A man must do so at times, I know this well. I find so an increasing need as the demands of the kingdom continue to grow."

"… How are things in Asgard?" Steve ventured cautiously.

"As ever they are. We are ever at peace while ever on the edge of war should one small thing go awry. It is a balance I still struggle to understand, but the All-Father is patient with me as I learn."

Steve shifted uncomfortably on the bench, avoiding Thor's gaze and feigning interest in the stack of weights that had been prepared. "… I've been reading about your world actually. A lot of my free time's been taken up with reading."

"Have you? What tales of yore still are told here?"

"Quite a few. The library has a lot…" Steve trailed off a moment, then added, as casually as he could muster, "A lot about you and Loki. About Odin."

"Aye, there are many stories. From what Selvig has told me many sagas still hold kernels of truth, others threads of lies."

"Sounds just like the history books here," Steve admitted. "I've looked at some of the things that have been written about World War II and a lot of them just… never really capture what was actually happening on the front lines or behind enemy territory." He paused again, and then added, feeling little bolder, "Is it true what I read about Loki having kids?"

"It is." Thor nodded again, and frowned. "My brother's brood, my niece and nephews, they were fearsome. It was a shame that they were born as they were."

"How was that?"

"Jotun. Strong, but shapeshifters as all Jotun are, and possessed with the ways of the dark magics. Destined for terrible fates."

Steve frowned as well, hearing the flat, unfriendly tone that Thor spoke with. "So the children were… taken, from what I read?"

"Aye." Thor rose and began to pace slowly. "My brother never forgave our father for it. It was a mournful day, but necessary. For the good of Asgard."

Steve bit his own tongue and moved to put an extra weight on the bar, grateful when Clint, Maria, and Natasha showed up, the archer looking contrite and carrying a bag with what he guessed to be a replacement coffee pot or liquor.

Tony returned shortly after that and they went their rounds; and when it came time to spar, Tony was all too eager to suggest they try working in tag teams, swapping out to throw their opposing team's member in the ring off with an unexpected switch and change of fighting style.

The change of pace was welcome, and Steve found, gratefully, that not having to spend the entire time one-on-one with Thor allowed him the chance to zone out and let his body do all the activity while his brain went into the usual mode of a soldier focused on his target and nothing else.

It was later, after he and the other men had showered and sat in the sauna, that Thor was the one to bring up the topic again.

"What other tales of my realm have you read, Captain?"

Steve mentioned a couple other things, the building of the wall one of them, and forced a tight, unnatural smile as Thor laughed and shared the tale of Loki's misadventure with the stallion, garnering a lot of interest and amusement from both Tony and Clint.

"So, let me get this straight," Clint said, between a choke of laughter, "Your brother turned into a horse, let another horse _fuck_ him, and then popped out another horse?"

"Aye, and a fine steed my nephew turned out to be, the finest in all of Asgard!"

"That has got to make family reunions awkward," Tony mused, between sips from the fifth of Jack Daniels, and not Jameson, that Clint had brought him.

Steve remained silent even as part of his gut and heart twisted.

* * *

When he left and went to the Medical Center later that day, he took Loki both a cup of gelato and a bismark, along with a couple pairs of very plain pajama bottoms and tee-shirts, the treats earning him a puzzled but grateful look.

"This is unexpected," Loki said, between bites of the donut. "I've not even yet begun my new regimen of exercises and mindless laps of walking."

"Yeah, well… consider it early incentive," Steve murmured, not foolish enough to tell him the real reason behind the gesture. The sound of the laughter and amusement earlier at Loki's expense chaffed enough on his own mind and emotions, and he could only imagine how negatively it would have affected the other man. "Your first meeting with your doctors is in an hour, right?"

Loki nodded. "At three o' clock, yes."

"Do you want me to stay and go with you, or would you rather go alone?"

"… If you wouldn't mind, I… would appreciate your company," Loki admitted. "I still find difficulty in remembering all the details of what these physicians speak of, when the ache in my head comes."

Steve nodded, reaching over absently to brush donut crumbs from Loki's shirtfront. "Hopefully the doctor will be able to help you with that too. I know they're planning on changing your medication, getting you off the diuretics soon."

"Wonderful. I should be grateful not to need to relieve myself as often as there are Midgardian hours in a day," the other man mused dryly, and Steve laughed.

The rest of the wait for Loki's appointment was spent reading, Steve continuing where they'd left off in _Les Misérables_ a couple of weeks prior in favor of the Shakespeare.

The appointment at three o' clock went well; Steve was relieved to see that the primary doctor in charge of Loki's care, Dr. Ira, was a pleasant woman that made sure her patient understood all the details of where he was in his recovery at present, what his care would involve, and the names and credentials of all the members of his assigned multidisciplinary rehabilitation team.

In addition to daily physical therapy there would be regular sessions of occupational therapy, as well as individual therapy and therapeutic rehabilitation sessions, both the latter services which Steve was secretly hoping would help the other man recover in more areas than just from the attack.

When they'd finished with the appointment, and Steve wheeled him back to his room, Loki made a wry observation.

"You never told me before, how badly off I was. If I understand the doctor correctly, this will take many weeks, and some care I will be required to seek for months after my discharge."

"… I didn't want to give you any more stress than you already had."

It was true, and part of Steve felt bad for not discussing the extent of the injuries the former god had received; in addition to the broken bones and cuts, head trauma had cause the most problems. While muscular deterioration (which Steve more than suspected had started long ago in Asgard and not only since he's arrived on earth) had slowed his progress, the neurological trauma was responsible for Loki's mobility and functioning issues. A subdural hematoma resulting from the attack was, as the doctor had explained, the reason for his continued dizziness, pain, and ataxia.

"If I were still in possession of my powers, none of this would be cause for concern. I would be healed, or the injuries would never have reached this extent to begin with."

"Lucky for you our earth medicine isn't still back in the Dark Ages," Steve said, trying to lighten the mood. "You're getting the best care there is to offer. So will Charlie."

Loki regarded him with a look Steve couldn't quite place as he helped him move from the wheelchair back into his bed. Was in gratitude, suspicion, or both?

"I am not a fool, Steve." Loki continued, leveling him with his tone of voice as much as his gaze. "The cost of all this is very great. How… shall I ever pay for this?"

"—You don't have to. There are… funds for the underprivileged, programs for assistance that can be applied for," Steve said, stumbling over his words at first, and while they weren't exactly a lie, he simply chose not to mention that those weren't how the costs were being covered. "Don't worry about it, all the paperwork is done, I took care of all that. You just focus on getting better, okay?"

"Again, I am indebted to you for your help." Loki's brow was furrowed, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Truly, I am."

"It's what a friend would do, or should do," Steve persisted, tucking the blankets around him. "If you're really upset about it though, I'll tell you what. You can make me a promise."

"… And what is that?" Loki's expression shifted and became one of confusion.

"Promise me you won't try taking over the planet again, if you ever do get your powers back."

"I… I do not think that is ever likely to happen."

"Well, then that settles that." Steve grinned at him. "You need anything else? If not I'm going to head over to the hospital and check on Charlie."

Loki shook his head, the look of confusion still stamped in his features.

"Alright. Then I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yes. Yes of course… tomorrow."


	14. Chapter 13: Good & Evil

_Author's Note: More Steve. _

_Warning: Verbal fighting. _

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. Quotes from __The Prince__ belong to Machiavelli. _

* * *

**Chapter 13: Good & Evil**

Another shipment of smuggled weapons brought another mission less than a week later, and Steve found himself once again with less free time to spend checking on Charlie and with Loki.

He found himself stationed this time at Grand Central Station with Clint, he and the archer in tandem for twelve hours rather than in shifts like they had the last time, with Agent Hill and Tony taking over for them. The shifts at JFK International Airport had been taken over by Natasha, Thor, and Bruce, with the assistance of other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

The military had taken guard of the harbor, feeling the shipment would come in that way again, and when Steve drove past on his motorcycle en route to go home at the end of his shifts to get some rest before his next patrol, the harbor was abuzz with activity, each incoming vessel being searched by a team of Navy Seals, the docks heavily guarded by armed military personnel.

He fell into a new pattern; sleeping for six hours, then rising and going first to the hospital, then to the medical center, where he sat, reading if he was there while Loki slept, or talking and sharing meals times with him.

The irregularity of the hours and the lack of any success in their mission carried on for more than ten days, and at the end, when the shipment was intercepted via the harbor again, the entire team was on edge and frustrated.

The interception of the weapons was a relief, but they'd still had little luck in discovering whoever was behind the smuggling plans from the U.S. side of the operation, a fact that had Fury up in arms.

"I don't think I need to tell you that it's vital that we find out who is behind this." The Director eyed them as they sat around the conference table for a debriefing. "These shipments are going to keep coming, and if one of them makes it to its destination, we will have a problem, ladies and gentlemen."

"Yeah, well then give us something more to work with." Tony glared at Fury over his Styrofoam cup of coffee. "You've got S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that specialize in ferreting out the Intel we need, so why haven't _they_ found something for us yet? Give me some data to work with, Fury, and I'll solve the fuck out of it, but right now we've got a whole lot of nothing from the last two missions."

"Tony's right," Steve added. "None of the suspected persons of interest we've been watching for have ever shown up at those locations. We've got the weapons, but that's it. I'm beginning to suspect we're way off mark with this, sir."

"And what do you suggest, Captain?" Fury's leveled him with a look. "I've put all my best agents into getting information out of those files that Agent Barton was able to secure for us, and that's the information we've been using."

Steve frowned. "Maybe, sir, that information is out of date, or they wanted us to find it."

"It's a possibility, sir," Clint admitted, "It's not like it would be the first time false data was planned to try and lead an investigation astray."

"Well that would be just fucking great." Fury sat down, and glared at them all. "You're all dismissed for now, but expect to be on call for the next several days. Once my agents have something else concrete, and they will find something, the heat will be back on you to follow up on it."

In the locker room, Tony muttered to himself while he changed, slamming his locker door shut with more force than needed. Clint and Bruce sat on the bench, still looking exhausted from the past several days, and Thor stood there, frowning.

"I think we all need to just get some rest," Steve said, trying to his best not to agitate anyone when they were already in low spirits. "Fury too. I know he hasn't been out there pulling our shifts but you know as well as I do he's almost always here at headquarters keeping tabs on everything. We're all disappointed we haven't been able to solve this and we're all frustrated, but that's not going to help us right now."

"If that vein in Fury's forehead gets any bigger, we're going to be in danger of a major explosion," Tony quipped.

"Cap's right." Bruce gave them all a look. "We're all on edge and we all need sleep. I think we'll feel better in the morning."

"_Afternoon_," Tony corrected. "I'm pulling rank on this one, since it's my Tower – no workout tomorrow. I want to sleep in."

"No workout," Steve agreed, having his own reasons. "We'll get back on schedule the day after that, but everyone just... go home and take care of yourselves, okay?"

Bruce stood up and headed for the door. "I'll let the ladies know the plan."

"I am going home," Clint said, shouldering his bag of things and following after Bruce, and Thor tailed after them, whatever he was saying about Jane cut off when the door closed behind them.

After they'd gone, Steve glanced at Tony again, his voice lowered. "Sleep in tomorrow, but when you've got the time, I want you to try and get a look at those files. Either Fury's agents are missing something, or… I'm not sure what, but something is off. We've never had this kind of problem with a mission before."

Tony gave him a sidelong look. "Are you suggesting I hack into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database and get them?"

"Not in so many words, no," Steve said, then added, "But, maybe. Yes."

"This is unexpected." Tony leaned against his locker, a hand on his hip. "I didn't expect you to be okay with going under the table. It doesn't seem honest enough for your style."

"I want to trust S.H.I.E.L.D. but I trust the team more," Steve admitted. "Just... look into it, and let me know if you find anything."

"Aye aye, Captain." Tony saluted, grinning. "You know, I'm proud of you, Steve."

"For what?"

"For not always following the rules. Sometimes I don't think you have it in you." Tony shook his head. "Don't take that the wrong way. I think it's good that you're the way you are – somebody has to be the team's moral compass. I'm too irresponsible and let's be honest, look at how I live. Bruce has too many issues, Clint's just an oddball, Natasha… she's an assassin, I think that says it all. And Thor lives by a completely different set of rules from a different world altogether. That leaves you. I'm just glad you're willing to make sacrifices when you think it's for the best."

Steve shut his own locker, avoiding eye contact. "Tony, you have no idea."

* * *

In the two weeks he'd been at the Medical Center, Steve could already see that Loki was making better progress than he had at the hospital.

He arrived there the next morning in time to find the other man returning from a physical therapy session, and Steve paused by the door, waiting as Loki and the doctor came down the hall.

The former god walked with the cane still, but with more certainty, and at a slightly faster pace than the painfully slow crawl he'd traveled with before. More than that he stood taller and straighter as he moved, and Steve could see in him again a hint of the same proudness Loki had carried himself with those years before.

His appearance was better than it had been in the hospital as well; Loki's long, dark hair had almost reached the middle of his back when he'd first seen him at St. Luke's, and had since been cut to a shorter length at his shoulder. He'd also gained more color as he'd started to move around more, to eat better, and the pajama pants and tee-shirt he wore were actually beginning to show signs of fitting rather than hanging on him.

It still floored Steve, every time he stopped and actually took the time to think about it, that the same man he was watching at that moment was the same god he'd encountered in Germany; the same one that he'd battled one-on-one with, albeit briefly. Nowhere in Loki's expression now did he see the glimmer of mania, the power-hungry desire he'd encountered in Stuttgart. Now he saw the crooked smile as Loki and the doctor exchanged some amusing conversation, a glimmer of hope in the other man's expression as the doctor gestured toward his leg and Steve could make out the word 'strength' on her lips.

The pair reached him and Loki's smile broadened when his eyes met Steve's. "The doctor was just telling me the good news."

"His muscle tone has increased point-four percent since last week." Dr. Ira held up the chart she was carrying. "He won't be kick boxing any time soon, but it's an improvement."

"That's great," Steve smiled at them both.

"Get some rest, James," Dr. Ira patted Loki on the arm. "You've got a full schedule today. Massage at noon, appointment with the psychologist at two, and meditation at three."

"Yes. Thank you, doctor."

The doctor left them there, and Loki nodded toward the door to his room. "Come in?"

Steve followed him inside and took a seat, smiling still as Loki settled on the bed. "Massages and meditation? It sounds like one of those day spas I see commercials for on television."

Loki leaned back against his pillows. "Mmm. It is quiet luxurious, I must confess."

"How did your session go this morning?"

"Well. As the doctor said, I am… growing stronger. Very slowly, but it is something." Loki glanced at him. "And how fares your questing?"

"I don't know that I'd call work questing." Steve shrugged. "Stopped some bad guys from what they were trying to do, but didn't catch them."

"How terribly frustrating." Loki eyed him then added, "For what it is worth… I believe you will catch them, in time."

"Do you? Why is that?"

"You succeeded in stopping me, and the Chitauri. Those was no small feats, nor were we minor foes."

"No, you weren't." Steve glanced at the clock. "You eaten yet?"

Loki made a face. "If you can call the very dry toast and eggs I was brought a meal. The juice of orange was pleasant enough, but…"

Steve laughed. "Still hungry?"

"Famished."

Steve went to the cafeteria and returned a short while later with two yogurts, some fruit, and a roast beef sandwich to split. They ate mostly in silence, though Loki bemoaned the lack of sweetness in the plain yogurt compared to his beloved lemon custard.

"Custard this weekend, I promise. The nutritionist will get on your case though if I keep bringing you treats every day. You don't want that, do you?"

Loki made a non-committal noise before biting into a plum.

"Stick with the diet plan he's got for you, and I'll bring you a book alone with the custard," Steve offered.

"Any book I wish?"

"Any book you want, within reason. Same as last time."

The dark-haired man looked thoughtful, then nodded. "It is a deal."

"Good."

The remainder of his stay, Steve read aloud from _The Prince_, while Loki listened, fingertips steepled and pressed to his lips.

"This Machiavelli, he was quite wise," Loki eventually murmured, when Steve had closed the book.

"Some of his ideas were okay, but not all of them." Steve set the book on the side table, then hesitantly continued. "For one, I don't think it's better for a ruler to be feared than loved."

"Machiavelli stipulated that it is better when one cannot be both. And if one cannot be loved? Then fear is a better option than nothing at all."

"You really believe that?"

"Yes."

Steve frowned. "Why?"

Loki glanced at him, then shook his head. "You would not understand, Captain. The people of your country love you. They adore you. Do not think that I have not taken note of such things since I arrived on your world."

Steve paused, thinking back on the newspaper articles from the box at Bowery Mission. "Why do you think that?" he asked cautiously.

"You are revered a hero for your displays of bravery, for your courage, your strength. You are celebrated, as are your companions-at-arms. It is not so different here than on Asgard. The mightiest who are loved with such conviction, with such faith from the people, can never understand the plight of those who are not."

"I wasn't always loved, or celebrated. I wasn't always strong either," Steve countered. "But you know that, Clint told you about my file, my history. Even back when I was weak I didn't want to be feared. Fear is for bullies."

"Have you no fear of your superiors? Of your government?"

"Even if I did, the fact is I wouldn't want to."

"What one wants and what actually feels is not always the same thing, Captain."

Steve frowned. "If a person has a good moral compass, then they should be able to lead without the use of fear."

"Politics has no relation to morals. Machiavelli wrote that as well."

Steve fell quiet for a moment, and then spoke again. "I know things aren't perfect, not the world, or the government, any government for that matter… but that doesn't mean that that people should stop hoping for goodness, justice, and truth. Even if it hasn't been obtained yet, it's something to strive for, something to try to achieve."

"And who decides what is good, just, or true? By what would you measure such standards?"

"That takes us back to morals, Loki. You need morals to measure goodness, justice, and truth."

"How then, do you decide what morals to live by? The code of one culture is not the code of another culture; nor is or the code of one world the code of another world. Is it moral then, to use your own views of morality by which to judge another who does not share them?"

Steve stared the other man for a moment, and then laughed. "You know, you're the last person I ever would have expected to get into an ethics discussion with."

Loki's expression grew hard suddenly. "No, I should imagine not. Why should a monster know anything of ethical behavior, nor of anything but fear?"

Steve hesitated, momentarily speechless, then shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that. I – I didn't say you were a monster."

"No, you did not." Loki looked away and out the window of his room, his voice almost inaudible. "I did."

"Loki, I… why?"

"In Asgard, I was taught many things. The ways by which to rule the kingdom, through both fear and love, by goodness and justice, as you have spoken of, with a will unbending as the strongest of iron of Svartálfaheimr. Yet I am born of Jotunheim, not of Asgard, and as such from a race that does not share the same moral code as Asgard. It is taught that the Jotun rule by nothing but lies and dishonesty. What know I of ethics, or morality, if I come from a realm of being so terribly, so lowly, that in Asgard one may slay a Jotun upon sight because one should not suffer a monster to live? I may know of the teachings of Asgard but I cannot live by them nor embody them. It is not my nature."

"You have a choice." Steve sat forward in his seat, eyeing the other man. "You always have a choice."

"There are no choices, only destiny. _Prophecy_." Anger crept into Loki's voice. "It was prophecy of their future deeds that took my children from me, that foretold the events wherein I bring the end."

"You really do believe that, don't you?"

Loki fell silent, his gaze still focused elsewhere. Steve tried a different approach.

"Besides, does any of that really apply now?"

The former god's eyes flicked toward him, then away again. "What do you mean?"

"Well… you said that Odin made you mortal."

"… Yes."

"If that's true, do the rules of Asgard or Jotunheim still apply to you?"

Loki turned his head to look at him, brow furrowed. "I… I was a god-"

"_Was_ a god, you just said so now, _was_, not _are_. Now you're mortal, right? Just another mortal human being, just like me, just like any of the billions of people on this planet. We don't live by Asgard's rules or any other world's rules for that matter. We all have a choice here about how we live and who we are. That applies to you now too."

"I do not believe," Loki said at last, after another span of silence passed, "That the form the All-Father has chosen to entrap me in changes the monster I am within. In Asgard I appeared Æsir, yet it was but an illusion to hide my true form. Though it is not revealed now, within me somewhere I remain Jotun still."

Steve hesitated again. "… Can I ask you something?"

"… Yes."

"What makes you so sure Jotuns are monsters?"

Loki scoffed. "—It is known, within the realms, it is taught to all Æsir from the time they are young that-"

"- That they're monsters?" Steve gave him a look. "Do you believe you're a monster because you know you are, or because that's what you were told to believe?"

Loki sat up sharply, furious. "When I allowed Jotun warriors the opportunity to infiltrate the palace they seized the chance! When I went to Jotunheim to plot against the All-Father, they were all too earnest to comply – it is in our nature, _Captain_, it is what we are, to be creatures of evil, to scheme, to triumph by dishonest means, and since the moment I knew the truth of what I was I have embraced it!"

Loki pushed himself up out of the bed and when Steve rose out of his chair to stop him, the other man advanced, albeit on unsteady feet, his voice raising. "Long I struggled with the prophecy that I would bring the end, for eons I wondered at how I could bring about the fall of the All-Father, of the nine-realms! I doubted my destiny; I doubted that the prophecy was true, for how could a prince of Asgard do such a thing? I doubted it until the very moment I saw my own flesh turn blue and the thing I believed myself to be melt away! I cannot change what I am!"

"If you're evil, then what about Charlie?" Steve stood his ground and grasped Loki by the shoulders, fighting the sudden urge to shake him. "Do you think monsters care about what happens to anyone else? Do you think monsters would save someone, even if it meant putting themselves in danger? Do monsters love their own children? Because I've seen the way you look when you talk about them, and you do, you love them!"

Loki wrenched himself out of Steve's grasp and turned away from him, his breaths rapid and unsteady. Steve watched him for a moment, and then spoke again.

"Look, I've said that before, and I still don't think you're a monster. I still think you've got a choice about what you do, about who you want to be, whether you believe that or not. I know I can't change what you think about yourself. You're only one that can do that, and I think it's a real shame that it you don't want to."

Then, too frustrated to say anything more, and rather than wait for a response from Loki, Steve took his leave.


	15. Chapter 14: Apologies & Forgiveness

_Author's Note: Annnd more Steve. More Loki too, because we all like that. Thanks also for all of you that keep sticking with it and reading, and for the reviews!_

_Warning: Nothing terrible for this one really aside from minor things that might cause some feels. _

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 14: Apologies & Forgiveness**

The phone rang later that same evening after Steve had returned home.

"Cap," Tony sounded less than thrilled. "You're not going to like this. I've been into the files, and there's nothing there."

"There has to be something we're missing, some details, or does it look like parts of the files are missing?"

"That's just it Steve. When I went into the files there's nothing there. _Nothing_."

Steve stopped mid-stir of the pasta he was preparing. "- What?"

"I've been going through other files in the S.H.I.E.L.D. system, just to make sure they weren't moved, renamed, deleted, but so far I've got nothing."

"What do you think this means?"

"I think it means someone on the inside is fucking with us, or is hiding something."

"Do you think Fury knows?"

"Steve, for all we know it could be Fury that's behind it. Remember what happened the first time we worked with him, what he wanted the Tesseract for. Well now we've got ourselves dealing with more weapons of mass destruction and files that have gone missing or never existed in the first place."

"Keep looking, Tony. The last thing I want to think is that Fury's trying to pull something on us. We've been working with him for three years now, I'd hope that counts for something."

"You're an idealist, Steve, but I'll keep looking."

"Good. Keep me posted if anything comes up, and for the time being, don't say anything to the rest of the team. I don't want to start anything before we've got solid evidence of what's going on."

"My lips are sealed." There was a pause. "You going to make it tomorrow morning, or should I ask Thor to come in early and help set up?"

"No, I'll be there."

"Right, good. See you then, Steve."

* * *

Steve did make it as promised the next morning for training. He stayed afterward and went to lunch with the team, pleasantly surprising his fellow Avengers after so many weeks of excusing himself to go to the hospital and medical center. He found himself glad he'd lingered, grateful for the conversation, the familiar banter between himself and Tony, in listening to Bruce help Thor puzzle out the menu when they went for Korean, in how everyone watched but never said anything about the way Clint had given Tony a death glare when he'd beaten him to the seat next to Natasha just for the fun of it.

It was the familiar routine, and to some degree, he'd missed it.

The end of the first afternoon, he'd gone across town and stopped in at the hospital to check on Charlie, then idled in the parking garage, weighing the pros and cons of going over to the medical center after his last conversation and argument with the other man.

He'd been there almost every day since he'd discovered him in the Intensive Care Unit, trying his best to help him and Charlie in every way he could think of, but when it came to trying to help Loki think anything better of himself, so far he'd come up short. Knowing that what he'd said was true, that it would take Loki deciding for himself whether he wanted to make things better for himself or not, he made the conscious decision to give the other man the one thing he hadn't given him yet; space.

Turning the motorcycle around, he headed back across town toward home, intent on doing his best to put his mind anywhere but on the thought of Loki and on the small twinge of guilt that was coiling itself in his stomach.

Two more day passed in the same way; he trained at Stark Tower, went to lunch, checked on Charlie, and then went home, breaking out his recently neglected art supplies and taking a walk to a nearby park to sketch the people he saw there; children running and playing, couples sitting on benches, an old man that sat throwing seeds to the pigeons.

It was the evening of the third day that his cell phone rang while he was in the middle of another sketch, a quick portrait of Lucille Ball while watching re-runs of _I Love Lucy_, and picking up he heard the voice of Dr. Ira from the medical center.

"Mr. Rogers, I'd like you to come in first thing tomorrow morning and meet with me in my office. It's very important that I speak with you."

"Is everything okay?"

"As a matter of fact it isn't, but I'd rather not go into the details of it right now over the phone."

Steve felt his stomach drop. "What time in the morning?"

"Can you make it at eight o'clock sharp?"

"I… I'll cancel my other plans. I'll be there, doctor."

* * *

Closing the office door behind him, Steve crossed the small room and took a seat. Dr. Ira looked at him across the desk, her mouth set in a firm line for a moment before she spoke.

"Mr. Rogers… I'm not certain if you're aware, but I don't believe that you are, that Mr. Barnes hasn't been in the best of moods."

Steve shifted a little in his seat.

"… He wasn't in the best of moods when I saw him last, no."

"And when was that?"

"That was Tuesday, ma'am."

"And today is Friday." The doctor sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Since Tuesday, from what every member of his rehabilitation team has reported since then, he's been either impossible, or unresponsive with them."

"What do you mean?"

"In physical therapy he goes through the motions, but with half the enthusiasm, or less. He's hardly touched his food in three days, according to the nutritionist, and he hasn't gone to his massages or to meditation sessions," Dr. Ira sat forward and gave him a pointed look. "He is depressed and avoidant. Today he flat out refused to meet with the psychologist and yelled at the nurse that tried to escort him to the session. Which it's not uncommon for patients that have experienced brain trauma to have outburst from time to time this seemed to be the icing on a cake that's been developing for a couple days. I asked you to come here because I wanted to see if maybe you knew why."

The small, coiled knot of guilt in Steve's stomach doubled in size and discomfort. "We had a disagreement the last time we spoke."

"What was the nature of that disagreement?"

"I – He didn't agree with what we were discussing."

"And?"

"And after we spoke, I left."

The doctor studied him for a moment. "You haven't been to see him since then?"

"No, ma'am, I haven't."

She gave him a pointed look. "Mr. Rogers. I'm in the practice of helping and healing people. I'm going to have to ask you to please, for the good of my patient, try not to do anything that is going to make my job any more difficult than it already is. In case it's escaped your attention, Mr. Barnes is struggling with a lot of different things now. His mobility is improved, but he has a long road of recovery ahead of him. The truth be told, I'm not guaranteed he'll ever walk without a limp again. Not all of the damage he's sustained is from that attack, I think you know that just as well as I do, and there are some things that no amount of what we can do here is ever going to fix."

When Steve remained speechless for a moment, she pressed on. "I won't pretend to know everything about his conditions physical or mental; but what I do know is that when you've been here, consistently, he was doing well. After your argument, he's taken two steps backwards in his progress, and I'm not surprised. From what little he's spoken to the psychiatrist we've gathered enough that you're the only friend he has. If you've pulled away, if you're not here for him, if he hasn't got any kind of support system, it's going to have an effect on his recovery; an adverse one."

Steve took a slow breath, and then let it out. "What should I do?"

"What should you do? Go upstairs and see him. Talk to him – try not to aggravate him, and if you really want to help him figure out what it is he needs that he's not getting."

Steve winced, realizing his slight and the enormity of it in the grand scheme of things. "- Custard. Faith."

"Excuse me?" The doctor gave him a confused frown.

"Nothing." He rose from his seat and extended a hand, the doctor taking and shaking it as she continued to give him a questioning look. "Thank you for talking to me doctor. I've – I'm sorry if I've made things more complicated than they need to be. I'll go see him."

"Good. And Mr. Rogers?"

Steve paused, already half out the door. "Yes, doctor?"

"Make sure he goes to his physical therapy appointment this morning. Every day is important if he's going to keep making progress."

"Right. Of course. Thank you again, doctor."

Taking the elevator up to the next floor, Steve headed to Loki's room and knocked on the closed door. A muffled response came.

"Go away."

He knocked again, and the second response was more irritated than the first.

"I said go away. I already said I was not interested in breakfast."

Opening the door slowly in spite of the words, Steve stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Loki sat in bed, half glancing toward him, then did a double take. "… You are not the nurse."

"No, I'm not." Steve gestured toward the chair. "Mind if I sit down?"

The other man continued to look at him, expression unreadable. Steve took a few steps closer and paused at the bedside, waiting for him to speak.

"… I thought perhaps you had changed your mind." Loki looked down at his own hands clasped in his lap. "When you did not return. Perhaps that you had… heard my words, and at last understood. That you finally agreed."

"—What?"

"On my… of what I am." Loki made a half-hearted gesture to himself.

"No – no, I still don't think that. I never did. I don't." He sat down on the edge of the bed instead, studying the former god. "You really thought I'd change my mind? That that's why I didn't come back?"

'It was the logical answer for it. In time, that is what everyone sees, Captain." Loki nodded toward the door. "Ask the nurse, I am certain she shall vouch for how beastly I have been."

"Upset," Steve corrected. "But you're entitled to feel that way." He hesitated, then added, "I didn't stay away because I think you're evil, or a monster – I stayed away because I thought maybe you needed some time to yourself."

Loki gave him a questioning look.

"I thought maybe you'd be better off if I wasn't here almost every day," Steve explained. "I made you upset the last time, I just thought it'd be… for the best."

When there was a span of silence, and then the other man looked away, he reached over and touched a hand to Loki's arm. "Hey… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just assumed that was the right thing to do. I should have talked to you more, asked if you wanted me to leave you alone for a while or not."

"… I am quite accustomed to being alone, Captain."

"It's Steve, unless… unless I screwed up so badly you don't want to be friends with me anymore."

Steve felt his breath catch in his throat as Loki looked at him again, studying him for a long while before he quietly answered.

"…. Steve."

Another gap of silence passed. Steve cleared his throat after a minute.

"I heard you haven't been eating."

Loki shrugged. "I was not hungry."

"That's no excuse. You need to eat if you want to get better."

"I grow tired of the same eggs and toast, the same ham and biscuit. I am not overly fond of those things."

Steve stood up and motioned for the other man to follow. "Then come on, let's go down to the cafeteria. I haven't had anything yet this morning, to tell you the truth, and I think I smelled pancakes when I walked by earlier."

"Were you not hungry either?" Loki quipped at him, climbing out of bed and reaching for his cane.

"I was in a hurry."

"That's no excuse," Loki mimicked, as he made his way slowly over to the door to join him.

They headed out into the hall, Steve reassuring the nurse that stopped them that he'd have the patient back in time for his physical therapy appointment, which earned him a grumpy look from the former god.

Taking the elevator down to the ground floor they made their way toward the cafeteria, pausing whenever Loki needed to take a moment, and when he became unsteady and reached out to brace himself against a wall, Steve caught hold of his arm.

"—I've got you. You can lean on me if you need to the rest of the way if you're getting tired."

"The therapist would be very upset with you, if she knew you were letting me cheat." Loki's hand tightened on Steve's forearm nonetheless, fingertips cool against his skin.

"I think she'll understand, given the circumstances. You haven't eaten, and you haven't gone walking this far in the center by yourself, have you?"

"Only the third and fourth floors," Loki admitted.

In the cafeteria Steve carried both their trays, filling his own with pancakes, fruit, and milk, while Loki chose yogurt, a muffin, and juice. After paying for their meals they found an empty table near the big, open windows that faced an inner courtyard and sat down to eat.

"I shall now owe you a breakfast in return," Loki murmured, peeling the wrapping off the muffin.

"Only if you want to, it's nothing, really."

"The kindness is not 'nothing' and it does not go unnoted."

"—Think of it as part of 'I'm sorry' for the last couple of days."

Loki paused and looked at him with what Steve was afraid was the beginning of a hurt look. "Would you truly bribe me for forgiveness?"

"No – no, it's not a bribe. That's not what I meant." He mentally berated himself for his choice of words. "Honestly I just wanted to make sure you were getting something to eat that you don't hate."

Silence fell between them for a few minutes, and then Loki spoke again after finishing his muffin, his voice low.

"If it will put your mind at rest, you already have it."

"Have what?"

"My forgiveness."

Steve stopped in the middle of spearing a piece of pancake with his fork. "I haven't really done anything to call for it yet."

"You returned." Loki poked at the yogurt with a spoon. "Few have ever given me that courtesy, fewer have ever apologized."

"I don't plan on making the mistake again, or needing to apologize, if I can help it." Loki gave him a doubtful look, which only reinforced Steve's hope that he would be able to make good on that statement.

They headed back up to the room when they'd finished breakfast, Loki taking hold of Steve's arm mid-way there without prompting when he began to slow in his steps and .

Steve stayed and read the rest of _The Flowers Of Evil_ to him before the physical therapy appointment, then went over to the hospital to check on Charlie, but not before promising to come back in time for dinner and to start reading _White Fang_, which Loki had finally proffered as the next book choice.

He stayed late in the evening when he returned, sitting close at the bedside and reading aloud while the dark-haired man rested on his side, eyes eventually falling closed and his breathing evening out as he fell asleep.

Closing the book and setting it aside Steve took a moment to watch him, the guilty knot in the pit of his stomach that he'd fought the entire day from surfacing finding its way higher and up into his throat. The healthy color Loki had gained over the past few weeks had subsided a little in the wake of their argument, no doubt, Steve thought, from his lack of concern for food and exercise.

Reaching over he pulled the blanket up over the sleeping man and suppressed a small sound of surprised when he realized how chilled he felt as his fingertips brushed against Loki's shoulder.

"I am sorry," Steve whispered, as he watched his chest rise and fall with his breaths. "I meant what I said about not making the same mistake again. I'll try my best."

* * *

In the following weeks, the medical center became like a second home to Steve; aside from his time eating, bathing, and sleeping at his own apartment, and the time he spent at Stark Tower, he found himself spending most of his time there, either in the fourth floor lounge waiting for Loki during his appointments, or sitting with him in his room reading or talking.

He brought his sketch book with him for the times he spent waiting, making quick line drawings of the people he saw in the lounge, or passing by in the hall. He sketched a few of the staff members who he'd grown familiar with, and presented Dr. Ira with one sketch he'd done of her kneeling down to speak with a young patient, earning him a smile from the doctor.

Quick sketches of Loki also began to find their way into his drawing time, sometimes starting unintentionally when he'd begin with something else; a chair, a bit of landscape he saw out the window, and the other man's likeness would suddenly be worked into the image, Loki sudden drawn sitting in the chair he'd started, or depicted standing under the barren tree of the medical center's courtyard.

It was the beginning of February when the rehabilitation team set up a small conference to meet with him, and Dr. Ira and the other staff discussed incorporating Steve into Loki's daily schedule on a new level, using the lengthy visitation times to have him take the other man on longer walks around the center on a routine basis, and to have him take Loki into the patient gym for extra exercise.

"He's ready for more of a challenge," Dr. Ira explained, glancing over the charts the physical therapist had brought to the meeting. "You're obviously in peak health condition and know your way around fitness equipment. From what little we've discussed the exercise program Mr. Barnes is on and what we've been having him do, you've got an understanding of what needs to happen with his strength level. It's a unique situation we've got, that you're here as much as you are, and you're in a position to help him progress at a quicker pace if you're willing to do it."

Steve answered without hesitation. "Yes. Yes, I'll do it."

He spent an afternoon with the PT going over the exercises he'd been supervising his patient through, and later that evening before dinner Steve coaxed Loki into going down to the fitness room to get him familiar with the new arrangement.

Loki gave him a wry look as he'd explained what the plan was and what sorts of exercises they'd be covering together.

"It is simple for you to say, that these things shall be easy. All one needs is a single glimpse of you to know you've more strength in one hand than some people have in their entire body."

"I still have to train almost every day to make sure I'm in top shape for missions and going into battle," he countered.

"Things I shall never need to do while I am in this form."

"You don't know what you'll need to be ready for. You didn't expect to get beat up here on earth, did you, and look what happened."

"Mmm. Well, what have I to fear, with the great Captain America visiting me so often?" Loki poked him in the arm as he moved passed to look at one of the treadmills.

"I'm serious, Loki. What are you going to do once you're better and out of here?"

Silence fell between them as Loki paused, looking thoughtful for a long moment, then murmured, "What indeed?"

Steve remained quiet, suddenly feeling very stupid. They'd never discussed what would happen after the medical center, when the other man would be able to leave – and leave for what? He opened his mouth, then closed it when his pocket started to vibrate, the cell phone chiming its electronic version of _The Star Spangled Banner_. Taking the phone out, he answered, half-expecting it to be Tony, since he was the only one that ever called (and was ironically the one who had set up his ringtone).

"Hello, this is Captain Rogers."

"Captain Rogers," a female voice responded on the other end of the line. "This is Nurse Brogan calling from St. Luke Hospital. Charlie came out of his coma twenty minutes ago. He's awake."


	16. Chapter 15: Care & Deception

_Author's Note: Yes, Charlie is awake! And here we go, off and running again with the next chapter. Sorry this one took longer to post, between being sick and I had to be away for work, things have been slow going. _

_Warning: Again, nothing terrible here. I'm saving it up for future chapters, muhahahaha. _

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 15: Care & Deception**

Steve made it over to St. Luke's in record time, taking back streets with his motorcycle to avoid some of the worst of Manhattan's traffic snarls.

It had taken him a few minutes after the phone call to walk Loki back to his room, to assure him he'd return after finding out everything he could, and even then the other man had tried to convince Steve to take him with him, to let him go and see the boy as well.

"You've got to stay here, I can't bring you with me."

"I want to see him-"

"And you will, as soon as he's transferred over here, I promise. I'll go check on him, and I'll let him know where you are, that you're okay and you want to see him. That's the best I can do right now, but you've got to stay here. That's final."

The frustration, the raw look of hurt and worry on Loki's face when he'd left him nagged at Steve as he entered the hospital and took the elevator up to the pediatric ward, and he hoped he hadn't set the other man off on another bout of depression and upset by what he'd said and had to do.

It was a few minutes before he was permitted to enter the room, various members of the hospital staff moving in and out, checking vital signs, and it wasn't until the doctor came out and gave him a quick briefing on how the boy was.

"He's awake, but, Captain… don't expect much in the way of communication with him.. He's still disoriented, so he may not understand everything you say to him. He hasn't spoken yet, and it will take time for us to evaluate the level of damage the injuries he sustained caused to his motor and cognitive skills. I have to ask you to keep the visitation to a minimum. We don't want to overwhelm him."

Steve entered the room after the doctor and nurses had left, the boy's eyes opening when he approached the bedside and cleared his throat.

"Hello, Charlie… you don't know me, but I'm Steve Rogers. I'm a friend of… your friend from the homeless shelter. " He paused. Charlie just looked at him, his gaze slightly off focus. Steve continued. "I don't know how much of what I'm saying to you means anything, but… I promised him I'd let you know he's okay, and he's thinking about you. He wants to see you, as soon as he can."

Charlie blinked at him. After a moment Steve saw the fingers on the coverlet twitch, and he reached over and gently touched the boy's hand. "It's going to be okay. The doctors are going to help you here, and at the medical center when you're transferred. You don't have to worry about anything, I'm – I'm going to make sure you get the best treatment you can. No one's going to hurt you here, or anywhere, if I have anything to say about it."

He remained with Charlie for a few minutes more, and then left another nurse came in to change out his IV, promising he'd return the next day and check on him.

He lingered at the hospital and spoke with the nurses, then the doctor when he was free again to discuss the next few days of tests that needed to be run before moving Charlie to the medical center, all of course, hinging on whether or not a space would even open up to have him transferred.

"I'm going to do my darndest to get him there," He assured the doctor. "It's a great facility, and I want him to have the best chance at recovery that he's got."

* * *

It was well after midnight by the time Steve returned to the Langone center, but Loki was still awake, stiffly pacing his room in obvious agitation when he entered. The dark-haired man looked up, relief washing over his expression as he approached him.

"Steve, you've seen him? You've spoke with him? How is he, did he say anything, will he—"

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down." He placed a steadying hand on Loki's shoulder. Have you been awake this whole time worrying-?"

"Of course I have, what do you take me for, that I would be capable of sleep—"

"Come on, have a seat. I'll tell you everything." Steve tried to maneuver him toward the bed, but Loki caught hold of his arm.

"I don't want to sit! Tell me now. I want to know."

"He's – awake, but it's going to be a couple more days before we know what's going on. They'll do some tests, and I'm going to see what I can do about getting him here."

"Did he say anything to you?" Loki pressed, and Steve hesitated, seeing the hope in the other man's eyes and not wanting to crush it, but also not wanting to lie. He shook his head. "Not yet. He's… got a lot of recovering to do still. The doctor said it's a good sign that he responded to physical and verbal stimuli when he woke up, but like I said, it'll be a little bit longer before we know more, and after that it could take weeks, if not months of recovery."

Loki released his hold on Steve's arm and after a moment, moving to take a seat on the bed. "Yes… yes of course." He glanced up at him then away. "It shall sound foolish, of course, that I had hopes he would wake and be in a better way. I suppose though that is due to my experience with Asgardian healing, where it takes hours, or merely a day or two for recovery in most cases."

Steve took a seat next to him. "He woke up. That's a good sign."

"Yet he has much to recover of."

Steve nodded. "Yes."

Loki drew a small breath, and then sighed, studying his own hands clasped in his lap as he shook his head. "If I had but reached him sooner, if he had never fallen into their hands, it—" his voice faltered, and Steve cut in.

"Hey. You weren't the one that did this to him."

"Did I not? At the root of it, if I had never shown him the means to improve his sleight of hand, if I had not interfered with him, had not taken him to the shelter-"

"Then what, you'd have been living on the streets, in the tunnels?" Steve tilted his head and leaned closer, trying to force eye contact with him. "If you hadn't taken him from that place you found him in, do you know what would have happened to him? What he'd already been through?"

When Loki didn't respond, he caught hold of his arm again. "Hey. Listen to me. It wasn't your fault."

Green eyes flicked toward him, then away again.

"It's wasn't."

"I still failed him." Loki spoke at last and swallowed hard, his voice thick. "I failed to protect him when it is what I desired to do above all else, the reason I took him from that terrible place to begin with."

"He's still alive." Steve frowned. "And take a look at yourself; you didn't fail to protect him. You got hurt trying to keep him safe and it's because of you that he's still alive."

"I cannot help but think now, perhaps, that you have come and have been so good to assist him as you have assisted me, that it would be wisest if…" Loki trailed off.

"If what?"

"… If it were you and not I, who were to take guardianship of him if you were not opposed, or if you were to find one better suited for his care." Steve opened his mouth, but Loki continued. "What do I truly know of children? I've not even raised my own. It was a foolish pursuit to think that I could..."

He interrupted him. "—You'd do that?"

"Yes." Loki nodded slowly at first, then with more conviction. "Yes. For the good of Charlie, I would."

A tense silence fell between them, until Steve broke it, picking his words slowly. "That's exactly the reason then that I think you're wrong."

The other man looked at him again, his brow furrowed.

"If you care about him enough to give him up." Steve searched his eyes. "You do care. I can see it. Do you really want to give him up? Do you really want to never see him again?"

Loki shook his head, a look of remorse coming over him. "No… no I do not, but—"

"But you would. You'd put his needs over your own."

Loki nodded again. "Yes."

Steve couldn't keep a small smile from escaping in spite of the seriousness of their conversation. "That makes you the best person to keep in his life right now."

The other man remained silent, mulling over his words, and on impulse, Steve added, quieter, "What you're willing to do for Charlie says more about you than anything you think your heritage does."

Loki gave him a startled look.

Steve kept his gaze on him steady. "You don't have to believe me, but I think it does."

Another span of silence fell. At last, Loki spoke again. "You will let me know the results of his tests?"

"Of course I will."

"Your faith is very disarming, Captain," Loki added after another moment.

Steve smiled. "Maybe I should have tried that with you in Stuttgart instead of starting a fight."

"It would have made little difference then."

They fell quiet again.

"Can I ask you something?" Steve ventured. "If you don't want to answer, you don't have to."

Loki nodded. "You may ask."

"Why did you try to take over earth? Why not just take the Tesseract and leave?"

A wistful look came over the other man that surprised Steve.

"I had planned, upon presenting the Tesseract to the Chituari and after the release of my son that Fenrir and I would return here. I could not go to Asgard, where Odin would take him again, nor anywhere else in the other realms with him. Also my son Jörmungandr already resides beneath the waters of the great oceans of this planet. To rule here as king of Midgard, with an iron will that none would question… none of this world would threaten my presence or that of my children. They would have been princes, revered instead of reviled. Fenrir would have been free to roam the land, and though Jörmungandr would still be confined to the sea, I would have at least been near to him. I might have found a way to release him without destroying Midgard."

Steve gaped at him. "—You mean you tried to take over earth for your kids?"

Loki nodded. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell somebody? Why didn't you say something to Thor?"

"Why?" Loki returned his look with a wry one. "To have Thor return to the All-Father with news of my plans? So that Odin might perhaps step in himself to stay my hand from saving my son? That would have meant certain failure, instead of the unexpected one that befell me. No… with Odin, I would never have succeeded. At least with the Chitauri, there was a small chance I might succeed and so I did not hesitate to attempt it."

Steve studied the other man. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're full of surprises?"

"I most often was told I was full of mischief," Loki admitted. "It played no small part in how I became the god of such things."

"Well, you just surprised the heck out of me."

"Surprise is but one thing I was skilled at evoking." Loki shook his head. "I meant for Thor to believe my reasons for conquering Midgard to be entirely self-satisfying. He thought I had wished him banished from Asgard before so that I might step in and take the throne in his place, so it was an easy deception." Loki paused, and then added, forcing a smile, "And after all, it is rather impossible to be a Liesmith without lying from time to time."

Steve frowned. "Just because people think you're prone to lying doesn't mean you have to lie."

Loki glanced at him again with a knowing expression. "Pray tell, how have you explained to your lengthy visitation times with me to your companions-at-arms?"

Steve shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't."

"None have noticed your absence?"

"They have, it's just… I've told them I've needed time for myself."

"So you have lied to them."

"No, I haven't lied – I have needed time for myself. I've also spent some of that time with you and Charlie. I just haven't shared that particular information to anyone."

"And if your fellow Avengers were to ask you, in explicit detail where you are when you have gone, and what you do with your time, what would you tell them then?"

Steve opened his mouth, and then closed it.

Loki watched him, then gave him a thin smile. "Lies and deception are necessary at times. Any that deny it, are merely lying to themselves."

"It's possible to be honest without putting anyone in danger." Steve shook his head. "If they asked me.. I would tell them I've been visiting a friend."

"And if they wished to know who that friend was?"

"I'm entitled to keeping some things in my life personal."

Loki frowned slightly, his tone and expression one of mild confusion. "… You think of me as something personal?"

The question made some part of Steve's stomach knot involuntarily, and it took him a minute to respond. "As crazy as it sounds, you have become a friend. I look out for my friends."

"You are very persistent in this matter."

"Yes, I am." On impulse Steve reached over clasped a hand over Loki's fingers, the other man stiffening in response and his expression even more confused than before. "Look, I know it has to still be bothering you, that I'm going to turn you over to S.H.I.E.L.D. or let the other Avengers know that you're here, because you bring it up from time to time, but I haven't. I won't, not if you don't give me a reason to."

"I do not plan to." Loki looked down at their hands.

Steve's grip tightened slightly in a reassuring squeeze. "Good. I'm glad."

The dark-haired man cleared his throat after a moment and pulled his hand away, gesturing toward the door. "It is late. I am certain you should be in need of rest as much as I am."

Steve nodded and stood up, glancing toward the clock on the wall. "It's late, I'm sorry I've kept you up."

Loki shook his head. "No, there is nothing to apologize for. I wanted news of Charlie… and your company is always welcome."

Steve paused at the door and smiled a little at that. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, one 'clock?"

"Yes, of course."

Steve started to leave, then looked back again. "Don't think Charlie waking up has made me forget that I'm supposed to take you for a long walk tomorrow and get you into the gym."

Loki gave a long-suffering sigh but smiled and nodded. "Of course."

"Get some sleep. Good night."

"Mm, I will, as soon as you go."

Steve slipped out of the room, but not before he caught an additional, quiet murmur of 'Good night, Steve' from Loki before the door clicked shut.


	17. Chapter 16: Long-Awaited Arrival

_Author's Note: Back to Loki. I've been itching for this chapter to get done as I've got waaaaay too many Loki feels right now. Thank you again for reading, and a big shoutout to those of you that reviewed the last chapter – Felicity G. Silvers, Ordis, fan girl 666, flower miko, and Sat-Isis – I've been worried a bit about the direction this story has managed to steer itself in some ways so I'm glad it's still being well received!_

_Warning: You may have feels too. Loki has the feels, even if he doesn't want to._

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 16: Long-Awaited Arrival**

Steve, Loki soon realized, was as persistent in his dedication to helping with his recovery as he was at repeatedly reiterating their newly forged friendship; and it was, apparently, friendship, for what else could possibly explain how involuntarily he'd started to grow restless every morning, watching and counting the minutes and seconds tick by on the wall clock until the soldier would come back? In spite of that, however, he still couldn't find it within himself to give vocal acknowledgement of it in return.

It was too risky, too sentimental, to say anything; and he'd learned to abhor almost all sentiment for the ruthless thing that it was, leaving those who felt it stripped bare and vulnerable - two things he sworn he'd never again allow himself to be.

When he had fought the battle against the Avengers, the Black Widow had spoken to him of love being for children, and he had agreed, though he'd never let her know it. Love was indeed for children, for the innocent and the unblemished, and for that, he allowed only the sentimentality and affection for his children, and now for Charlie, to remain lingering in his heart, or whatever was left of it, if there was indeed anything left in his chest keeping him alive. Even that strain of feeling that he'd allowed himself to keep had been his undoing, leaving him open to manipulation when Thanos and the Chitauri had discovered, in the midst of their tortures and interrogations, that he still harbored an emotional connection, no matter how tenuous and thread-bare, to his sons and daughter.

Yes, sentiment, love, was for children. He couldn't afford any more beyond that, and even that had almost proved to be too much.

Regardless of Loki's unwillingness to say anything about what had developed between them, Steve appeared daily and in his ever-optimistic way, prodded him from bed and out into the hall to walk or go into the gym. The almost unfailingly positive attitude Steve had every time he saw him would have seemed false in most other people, but Loki was growing slowly but steadily used to it simply being a facet of the other man's disposition. Even Thor, who had often been in irritatingly pleasant spirits through their lives, had always tempered the happiness with as equally frequent bouts of temper and displays of uncontrollable anger.

Steve, by contrast, remained level-headed regardless of the times when he would try to rouse something else in him with smart-mouth quips or when he was simply in a foul mood from bodily aches and pains.

Grudgingly, though less so that he would have been weeks, or even days before the arrangement, he found himself looking forward to their newly formed schedule, to the time spent walking, himself slowly limping along and Steve patiently strolling at his side, and talking as they traveled together through the medical center halls, the other man offering gentle and never pandering encouragement when he successfully made their circuits of the fourth floor hallways, or wordlessly offering an arm for support when he faltered or grew too weary to continue.

Steve displayed the same kindness in their visits to the gym, setting up the equipment for him at first, then coaching him on how to do it for himself, and counting out the repetitions of each exercise he was required to do. Whenever Steve corrected his form he never chided him for an error, giving praise for what he'd already accomplished before giving him advice on doing even better the next time.

"Great, that was five more reps than last time; you're really getting good at this. Let's do it again, but this time," Steve moved behind him and grasped one of his shoulders, then the other, and shifted them back, then placed a hand against his spine, encouraging him to sit up straighter, "This time, try and hold this position. It will isolate the muscles you're trying to target. Ready? One… two… three… four…"

Loki focused on the steady count as he used the lateral pull, Steve's hand moving to the small of his back again mid-count when he started to slouch. "… eleven – sit up – twelve, good… thirteen…"

He released the weight when they'd finished and Steve passed him the water bottle.

"That was good, better than last time. How do you feel?"

"As if my muscles are on fire." He took a sip from the bottle and eyed the weight stack with contempt.

"But no pain otherwise? Your back isn't sore?"

"No more than it ever is."

"That's because you were in bed for so long. That's why you're in here doing this." Steve rubbed a hand against his spine where he complained most often about aching, and then offered him a hand up. "It will get better the more you exercise. Come on, let's do some bicep work…"

In addition to the exercise, Steve also advocated and arranged for him to see one of the center's opthamologists when he continued to experience difficulty with his vision and prolonged headaches, and the appointment resulted in a pair of glasses that gave him the ability to read again without incident.

While Loki was grateful at the notion of a decrease in the headaches and for the ability to amuse himself with his books again when it suited him, he was struck with the realization that this also meant that there was no longer any reason for Steve to stay in the evenings and read to him.

He silently brooded on the fact all day after he'd received the glasses, angry at himself for being upset over the impending loss of the time with the other man, as it was yet, like the friendship itself, another strain of sentimentality that he did not want and could not afford to have.

It was to his relief later that evening, when they'd finished eating, that Steve remained and picked up the _The Complete Works Of Alfred Tennyson_ that he'd bought for him that same day, and started to read, as if the thought of ceasing to do so had never entered his mind.

Loki didn't bother to put the notion into his head either, not that night, nor any of the following, content to listen as usual to Steve's steady, calming voice as he navigated through the text.

* * *

Charlie was transferred fifteen days after he'd regained consciousness; it had taken Steve most of that time to secure a room for the boy at Langone, and Charlie had been run through a barrage of tests during those two weeks, testing his motor and cognitive skills.

The overall prognosis wasn't grim, but it wasn't good either.

Steve sat down with him the day before Charlie was to be moved from the hospital, and gently explained what was ahead for the boy.

"The doctor said he still hasn't been able to speak properly; he can make sounds, and when he has enough energy he can write down one word responses, but his handwriting is shaky. He's going to need a lot of physical therapy, even more than you've had, and he'll be seeing a speech therapist too. He has a long road of recovery ahead of him. This will take weeks, even months. It's still hard to tell how well he'll recover, but I know that he's going to get the best treatment he can here, just like you have."

Loki did his best to keep his expression neutral, though some part of him twisted inside at the thought of Charlie struggling though the same – no, more difficult and lengthier recovery period. He'd never meant for him to get hurt, and regardless of what Steve said, some part of him still retained the heavy burden of guilt.

"When may I see him?"

"It will take a while to get all the admittance paperwork filled out, and to get him comfortable in his room, but I promise, as soon as it's okay for you to see him, I'll come get you."

He was hesitant to ask his next question, as Steve had never in all the past days of talking with him mentioned anything of what he wanted to know.

"Has he ever… made any indication of wanting to see me?"

Steve regarded him with a sympathetic look. "Since he can't speak he hasn't said anything outright, but… I think he does. I mention you every time I've been there. He hasn't made any indication of how wanting to see you, and he is able to let us know yes or no with his writing."

That did little to lessen his worry that, perhaps, after what had happened the boy wouldn't want to even lay eyes on him again.

* * *

The next day, when Steve had gone to St. Luke's to take care of the discharge paperwork and ride back in the medical center van with the boy, Loki paced his room, agitated and his patience strained to the maximum.

Watching the clock he felt as if time had slowed to a crawl, time that had at one time been almost meaningless when he'd lived in Asgard, where the days and nights stretched out and blended, the seasons shifting effortlessly with each other and almost imperceptible in their transitions.

At noon he'd been irritable enough to frighten away a nursing assistant when she had tried, and failed to bring him lunch, fairly hissing his distaste and displeasure at the prospect of wasting time to do something as menial as chew and swallow a tasteless lump of chicken breast and bland rice. How could he stomach any food when his insides were writhing?

It was nearly two o' clock when Steve came, opening the door and greeting him with a smile. "He's here and everything's taken care of. You ready to come up and see him?"

"I have been ready for the past six hours," he retorted, making his way over to join him.

Steve held out his arm and Loki scowled at him, earning a stern look from the other man. "And walking yourself stiff from the looks of it. You're favoring your leg again; I can always tell when you've over done it."

"Captain Perceptive," he murmured, but placed his hand on Steve's arm nonetheless, letting the other man take some of his weight as they exited the room and went to the elevator.

"Well don't tire yourself out too much, it's not good for you, and it won't help Charlie at all," Steve lectured. "Don't make me regret that I was able to negotiate unrestricted visiting hours for the both of us to see him. I don't want you falling in the hall at midnight."

"I have endured worse than a mere fall to the floor," he retorted hotly, "Nor do I plan to fall."

"That doesn't mean it won't happen, especially if you push yourself to exhaustion. _Especially_ if you're not going to eat," Steve said, giving him a pointed look. "The nurse stopped me in the hall on my way here and tattled on you. You know you can't skip meals."

"I do what I want," he growled, and wished, not for the first time, he has some lingering bit of magic to use on the nursing staff when they betrayed all of his transgressions.

Steve sighed, shaking his head. "Then you need to make sure eating is something you want to do."

Charlie had been placed on the sixth floor youth ward, and when they reached the room, Loki's voice caught in his throat when the boy's eyes flicked from watching the television on the far wall, and scanned over both the soldier and himself.

"I brought you a visitor, Charlie." Steve crossed the room and turned off the television, then moved two chairs closer to the bedside. He shot Loki a glance and nodded for him to join him, and he limped over, hesitating to take the seat as he studied the boy, his voice very quiet when he finally found the ability to speak again.

"Hello, Charlie."

Charlie's dark hair, previously short from being shaved for surgery when he's last seen him, had grown out a little, and he reached out to very gently tousled the short locks, as he'd done time and time before since he'd taken the boy from the prostitution house. The gesture earned him a steady look and he dared to hope the smallest fraction of a smile.

"See, I told you he wanted to see you," Steve said, and winked at Charlie.

"Yes, I have," he echoed, taking the seat at last. Charlie's hard stirred on the blanket, and he reached over and brushed his fingertips to them. The boy's fingers clenched, then slowly, haltingly curled over them in return.

He let of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and smiled, then glanced at Steve, who smiled back in return.

"The Captain has been very good to us, Charlie," he said.

Steve shook his head. "It's what any decent person would have done."

"There are very few decent people, from what Charlie and I have known," he countered. "You have gone above and beyond what most would do, and for that you have my thanks."

Steve cleared his throat, and then motioned to the bedside table, the attempt to change the subject not lost on Loki. He glanced to where the other man pointed and saw a small stack of paperback books.

"I thought, since you can read now, that you might like to be able to read to Charlie when you visit."

"I… yes. Yes, of course." He gave Steve a grateful look. "It is a splendid idea."

The Captain looked pleased that his idea was well received, and reached over to pat him on the shoulder. "Good, I'm glad you like it." The other man paused and glanced at them both, then rose. "I'll let you two have some time; you've got a lot of catching up to do."

"Thank you again, Steve." He smiled at him again, and with Charlie's hand over his own, found it impossible to hide the depth of his gratitude and the infernal welling of emotion he was fighting from betraying itself in his voice and gaze. "For all you have done." He paused, then added, "Will you be leaving for the rest of the day?"

"I need to go take care of some things, but I'll come back at dinnertime if you want."

"I shall see you at six-thirty then."

He watched as Steve exit the room and walk down the hall, then turned his attention back to Charlie, losing his voice again as he took in the other subtle differences in him.

In addition to the shortly cropped hair, a recently healed scar ran along the right side of his skull, starting just below his ear and disappearing into his hairline, the remaining evidence of the neurosurgery he'd undergone. He looked thinner, paler now, and it pained him to realize just how much was ahead for the boy to endure. Hearing it from Steve had hard enough, but to see it with his own eyes was far more difficult.

"It does not seem it," He began at last, "But we are fortunate, you and I. I do not know that I would have been as lucky in securing this place for our recoveries. St—the Captain has, as I said, gone above and beyond the kindness of what others would have done. I am deeply indebted to him for what he has done for the both of us."

When Charlie simply continued to look at him, he lowered his gaze to their hands again, and struggled with his next words.

"I… I am sorry, that I was not able to - that I could not keep this from happening. That I was too late in reaching you. That I was not at your side to begin with when those men…" He faltered, and had to take a moment to collect himself before he continued, his voice strained. "… When those men attacked you. If I had, I never would have allowed them to lay a single finger upon you. I… I do not know if you can ever forgive me for it, for I shall never be able to forgive myself."

It was a moment more, and then Charlie's fingertips twitched, then squeezed slightly.

Loki lifted his head abruptly when the boy opened his mouth and managed a weak, unintelligible sound.

"Ehh."

The boy's fingertips loosened, then squeezed again, and the writhing, twisting sensation in Loki's stomach lifted, even as a tight knot formed in his throat.

Turing his own hand over he gave Charlie's fingers a small squeeze in return, and the boy's lips quirked unmistakably this time, a small, genuine smile forming there before he closed his eyes.

He remained at Charlie's side as the boy fell asleep and bowed his head as if somehow that action would cease the sudden, fierce stinging in his eyes.


	18. Chapter 17: Coffee & Tiramisu

_Author's Note: Steve again. And the plot thickens, slowly, but it thickens. And stuff. _

_Warning: I dare you to look at mascarpone the same way again._

_Warning: Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 17: Coffee & Tiramisu **

Exiting the medical center, Steve took out his cell phone, the display flashing three missed calls. He'd ignored the phone when Tony had called him each of those times, busy with getting Charlie from St. Luke's to Langone. The inaction now that he saw Tony's number caused guilt to well up in him as he checked the text messages that had followed.

_T Stark: u ok cap? u never miss calls._

_T Stark: files. call back._

His guilt magnified when he realized what Tony had been calling about, and not for the first time, he found himself torn between his duty to his country, to S.H.I.E.L.D., and the team, and the sense of duty he'd gained toward Loki and Charlie.

Pocketing the phone he glanced both ways and crossed the street to head for the parking garage, hoping whatever Tony had discovered would be of some help to them.

"Steve?"

He stopped on the opposite sidewalk and whipped around toward the sound of the familiar voice, his pulse skyrocketing when he saw Pepper waving as she came out from a Deli across from the medical center.

"It is you, how are you?"

"I'm fine, how – do you need help with those?" Steve asked, catching a precariously balanced bag as it slipped from her arms, her hands already too full with a briefcase, purse, and two coffees.

"Thanks." She juggled the items in hand, and then took the bag back once she'd shouldered the purse and briefcase. "Tony was craving a pastrami sandwich and had to come down to the notary… what are you doing this side of town?"

"- Coffee" Steve sputtered the first thing that came to his mind, and instantly he flushed, realizing he'd made an outright lie. Pepper raised an eyebrow.

"That's a long way to go for coffee. Is there a really good café I should know about in case Tony ever asks from something different?"

"No, it was – it was just convenient. I was this side of town already and – how is Tony?"

"He's the same Tony as usual. Been locked in his lab, missed a meeting this morning. The same Tony."

"That's Tony for you."

"Mmhmm." Pepper studied him for a moment more, then smiled and nodded toward the street, where one of the Stark Industry limos idled a few yards away. Steve's smile faltered realizing he'd managed to walk right past the vehicle and not even realize it. He was distracted, and he couldn't afford to let himself be that way…

Pepper's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "I should get back, before the coffee gets cold."

"Right – have a good afternoon, Pepper. Tell Tony I said hello. I actually need to call him."

Once Pepper had gotten into the vehicle and the limo pulled away Steve made his way to the parking garage, his heart still hammering hard in his chest. The last thing he wanted was anyone knowing he was going to the medical center on a regular basis, because it would lead to more questions, and that could spell disaster for him, and for Loki and Charlie.

Climbing onto his bike Steve tried to reason with himself that he was being overly cautious; perhaps Pepper hadn't even seen him coming from the direction of the center, she hadn't directly asked him if he'd been there, and she seemed to accept the answer he'd given her; but it also still troubled him that he'd instantaneous lied. He was well aware that the team didn't rib him for being old-fashioned and, as Tony frequently put it, 'a star-spangled boy scout' for nothing. He'd been in the modern world for over three years now, but there were some things, his beliefs and ideals – his reputation for being honest and trustworthy, that he wasn't willing or able to leave in the past.

He ran the few errands he needed to before returning Tony's calls, both out of necessity and to take a little time to quell his worry over running into Pepper; he went to the bank and made the necessary transfers to pay for another installment of the medical bills for Loki and Charlie, and stopped at the corner market near his apartment to buy groceries, though he'd needed fewer and fewer of them on stock at home when he was there so infrequently.

It was almost five when he finally called Tony back, and he could hear the less than subtle irritation in the billionare's voice when he answered.

"Tony, it's Steve."

"—About damn time you called. I would have sent out a search party if Pepper hadn't told me she'd run into you."

"She did?"

"Yeah, said you were down on First Avenue, she ran into you getting lunch."

"Yeah, that was it." Steve shoved a carton of milk in the fridge as he unpacked the groceries, the phone cushioned between his ear and shoulder. "You texted about the files, what did you find?"

"I found out Fury didn't know a goddamn thing about their being missing, or if he did, he was too good at acting like he didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I went to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters this morning and told old one-eye I'd like a chance at cracking those encrypted files myself. He didn't think I'd be able to do any better than his specialists' team, but I heckled him enough into opening the files for me, or opening the file and finding nothing, as the case was."

"What happened?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Fury let a string of 'motherfuckers' fly yelling at his agents, and has an investigation on the problem."

"Is that all then, Fury knows that the files are missing?"

"No, not all, Steve," Tony scoffed. "While Fury was busy reaming new assholes for everyone, I might have taken the time he was distracted to download the list of personnel with security clearance for those documents, as well as all the information for who is employed at S.H.I.E.L.D. If it's somebody doing a job from the inside, this is how we'll find them."

"Good thinking."

"Was there ever any doubt? I'm not the genius brains of the team for nothing."

Steve grinned, though Tony couldn't see it through the phone. "Half of the brains. Don't forget Bruce has done his fair share of work."

"Yeah? We'll let's not and just say we did this time, since I'm the one that had to deal with the Director."

"How long do you think it will take to compile the data on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents from the information you took?"

"Not long, I'll probably have it by tomorrow afternoon, I've already got JARVIS processing the files."

"Thirteen percent, remaining time fourteen hours, six minutes, fifty-five seconds," the AI echoed in the background in response to Tony.

"Yeah, what Jarv's just said."

"Good. After training tomorrow we can go over the information." Steve sat down at the kitchen table. "Fury really seemed like he didn't know what was going on?"

"Like I said, he swore like a sailor and had the agents on duty scurrying like ants to, and I quote 'find those motherfucking files'. He doesn't like it when the agency gets caught with its proverbial pants around its ankles, and I have a feeling even less so when I'm around to see it."

"That's because you'll never stop bringing it up."

"Of course not. Fury never lets me forget that I should be 'grateful' to be allowed on the team, why should I let him forget that I'm still an Avengers because you guys need me? Hey, speaking of bringing things up," Steve could hear the grin in Tony's voice, "Pepper said you were having coffee this afternoon."

Steve's heart quickened again. "She did? Why?"

"Oh, she might have noticed you got a little flustered when she asked what you were doing." Steve swallowed hard, and when he didn't instantly respond, Tony continued. "Come on, Steve – if you're off meeting a girl for coffee, that's a good thing!"

"-What?"

"Come on, it's nothing to be ashamed about."

"I wasn't having coffee with anybody."

"Oh yeah, is that why you blushed like a school girl when you talked about it? Pepper spills the beans about everything if I bug her long enough. I'm just glad you're getting out, meeting new people, new women – what's she like? Did you find someone old-fashioned like you, one of those women that likes to dress up all retro, or did you finally meet a girl from this day and age that does it for you?"

"—I need to go, Tony. I have things I need to do."

"Aww, come on, Steve. You're not going to keep your team in the dark about this one, are you?"

"Good-bye, Tony."

"I'm going to ask you again tomorrow, you know that-"

"Good-bye."

Steve hung up and groaned, running agitated fingers through his hair. The last thing he needed was Tony thinking he'd finally met someone. God knew Tony had tried, after the first year had passed, to get him to, as the other man had put it, 'hook up'. He'd been set up on blind dates and forced to endure dinners, movies, and strained conversations, first with one of the secretaries from Stark Industries, then with two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and lastly with the Starbucks barista that Tony had thought would 'be perfect'. His arranged date with Darcy to the charity benefit had been Tony's last attempt, and when he'd never bothered to ask Steve anything about how it had gone, he'd hoped it was a sign that no one any longer had an interest in his love life, or lack thereof.

So far no one, not any of the women Tony had tried to introduce him to, or any of the other women he met day-to-day, had ever caught his attention or held his interest. The women he'd met were forward, and too many of them saw the image he was, Captain America, and never even noticed who he really was behind the uniform. The world was too different, he was different, the women too different from how it had been, and when it came right down to it, none of them were Peggy.

Peggy.

He realized, with a sudden guilty pang, that he hadn't actively thought about her for a few days, for a few weeks, even. He'd been so busy with everything else that he hadn't taken a spare moment to think of her. He wondered if that meant that he was, finally, as everyone else had hoped he would, getting over her. Over losing her. The prospect felt wrong, as if somehow doing that would dishonor everything he'd ever felt for her, just like the notion of dating other women felt wrong. He'd loved her.

Tony thought his lingering sentiments over her weren't healthy and had repeatedly told him so. "Why are you still pining over a woman who went on and lived her life, married someone else and had a family? She moved on, now you need to do the same thing, Steve."

Because in spite of knowing that Tony's intentions were good, and that the advice his friend was trying to give him was actually sound advice (a rare thing coming from Tony where relationships were concerned, considering the man still hadn't settled down with Pepper even though it was obvious he was crazy about her) he still hadn't been able to reconcile that it hadn't been him that Peggy had married, it hadn't been their children, that it hadn't been him growing old with her and sitting at her bedside when she had passed away.

He realized after a moment that he was gripping the table edge and let it go, sighing. The last thing he needed right then was to get lost in the past; he had the problems with the files at S.H.I.E.L.D. to deal with, had Loki and Charlie that needed him, and he needed to return to the center soon to have dinner with the other man. There would always be private time later, in the evenings when he was home alone for the night, when he didn't have other priorities, to think about Peggy.

* * *

"Is something amiss?"

Steve glanced up at Loki and frowned a little, shaking his head. "No, why?"

"You have been holding your fork in than manner for the past two minutes while gazing into thin air."

Steve looked down and realized he had, indeed, been holding his fork poised over his spaghetti and meatballs for the last little while.

"Sorry, just distracted."

"Mmm. 'Work' related troubles again?"

"I guess you could say that." Steve speared a meatball. "Still looking for answers, but nothing is turning up. Nothing that makes sense anyhow."

It had been almost a week since he and Tony had gone over the information from S.H.I.E.L.D. and of the two agents that they'd narrowed the search down to from the five with unlimited access, that had the viewed the files the most, they hadn't found anything on either of them to warrant tampering with the documents. One agent had ten years' worth of service to S.H.I.E.L.D. The second, a newer recruit, was no more than twenty-three and while she was a technology specialist and had been the last one logged in to the documents folder before the contents went missing, something felt off about her being the culprit.

At least in his opinion. Tony had been ready, when they'd looked over the folder log and the information on the agents, to go to Fury with their findings, as it seemed the S.H.I.E.L.D. investigation hadn't turned anything up yet either.

"This has to be the one," Tony had said, jabbing a finger at the holoscreen with the agent's picture. "Agent Shelley was the last one to access that information."

"Why would she do it though?" Steve had countered. "She's young and new to the agency, she has a flawless service record for the Army, perfect grades before that from school – why would a girl that has everything going for her ruin that by doing something to these files?"

"Why does anybody do anything?" Tony had snapped, and they'd gone round and round over why the information was and wasn't sound enough reason to pursue investigating her further. In the end, Tony had agreed to putting more time into researching her before they went to Fury with their findings.

"Steve… you are doing it again."

He shook himself from his thoughts once more and offered Loki an apologetic look. "Sorry."

Loki eyed him, then the meatball, and shook his head, turning his own attention back to his chicken and string beans. "Your dinner shall be cold if you continue to ignore it."

Steve managed a smile. "You're lecturing me about eating now?"

"Mmm."

Steve resumed eating, and the both of them finished after a few minutes, Loki pushing his tray away with contempt. "If I never see another chicken breast on a plate when I am gone from here, I shall be forever thankful."

"I brought you something." Steve reached for his satchel, the other man perking up as he watched him. He pulled out a little plastic container and handed it to Loki, watching as he opened it.

Loki glanced inside, then back at Steve, smiling. "What is it?"

"It's tiramisu."

"I don't recall seeing this on the nutritionist's menu."

"I won't tell if you won't."

Loki's response was to pick up the desert and take a bite, his eyes closing as he made a small, affirmative sound in the back of his throat as he chewed. Steve reached into the bag again for his own Cheese Danish and bit into it, savoring the taste as they both polished off their treats.

"I take it you liked that one? I can bring it again?"

Loki nodded, making another affirmative noise as he smiled and licked the powdered cocoa from his fingers. Steve laughed, leaning forward to wipe a bit of mascarpone from the corner of the other man's mouth – then froze as Loki turned his head and quickly sucked the bit of cheese from his fingertip.

Loki's eyes lifted, and after a split second they both drew away from each other, Steve feeling the color rise in his face as the other man murmured a clipped apology and used his napkin to finish wiping his mouth.

They both sat there for a few moments, avoiding eye contact.

It was Loki who broke the silence, gaze focused on hands clasped in his lap when he spoke. "The doctor said they will attempt to have Charlie stand tomorrow in physical therapy."

Steve nodded. "—Yes, I heard about that. I spoke with Dr. Renat in the hall this afternoon while you were seeing the psychiatrist. He thinks Charlie is almost strong enough to hold onto a walker, so that's the next logical step."

Loki nodded, then silence fell between them again.

"I'm going to go up and visit him before I go home tonight. Did you want to go with me?" Steve ventured after a minute. Loki shook his head.

"No, I am quite weary tonight. I shall turn in early."

"If you're sure."

"I am."

Steve rose and started to gather his things, then paused, his eyes shifting toward the stack of books at the bedside. Loki glanced up, following his gaze, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Steve opened his mouth, and then closed it. He opened his mouth again to speak, but the other man cut him off.

"Good night, Captain."

"I – good night." Steve went to the door, then glanced back at him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Loki nodded, his gaze turned toward the window.

Closing the door behind himself Steve paused again, suddenly acutely aware of his own heart hammering hard in his chest. He glanced down at his hand, then shoved it into his coat pocket as he went to the elevator, color creeping over his face again as he tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about the sensation of Loki's lips closing around his finger or the tip of his tongue moving quickly against the pad.

"Get a grip on yourself, Rogers," he murmured aloud to himself as the elevator went up to the sixth floor. It was an accident, and a meaningless one at that. So why was he flustered about it?

He had no good answer to that as he went to Charlie's room, glad for the distraction that eventually took his mind off the churn in his stomach and the tingling in his fingertip.


	19. Chapter 18: Files & Refrigerators

_Author's Note: More Steve. We'll return to Loki soon, but first – this. Also, this is a bit longer of a chapter, and I wanted to give warning that I'm about to be sucked up with 12 days of work in a row, so I might be slower in posting than usual, but I will try my damnedest to keep plugging at this, since things are taking off and you've all been so kind with your reviews and comments, and I am more than a little giddy at how many hits it keeps getting for views. _

_Warning: Sorry guys, this one is going to be kind of gross a bit. _

_Warning: Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel. _

* * *

**Chapter 18: Files & Refrigerators**

Later that same night, the telephone ringing brought Steve up out of his bed. He made his way to the kitchen and answered, glancing at the clock on the microwave, and realized it was three in the morning.

"Steve Rogers."

"Hey Cap, sorry to wake you up, but this is important."

Steve wondered if Tony had even bothered trying to sleep that night, or if the genius was in the midst of another bout of multiple day insomnia. "What is it, Tony?"

"Agent Shelley. I cross referenced the security login signatures and times to the clock in times and the schedule for the agents on duty at S.H.I.E.L.D. during those days, and something didn't match up. She was listed as entering headquarters on three separate occasions, all three during days she wasn't due to work. That wouldn't be a big deal, maybe Fury called her in or something – but one of the days she's listed as accessing the files, the day they went missing – she didn't enter for a security clearance to enter the facility at all."

"—So someone else may have used her information to access the files." Steve moved around the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. "Any idea of who it is?"

I've got a list of sixteen agents on duty consistently during those times. Now what we need to do is go through a process of elimination." Tony's voice hesitated, and then continued. "Directly after the files went missing, Agent Shelley is listed as being transferred to the CIA as a technology specialist. Thing is, the transfer was listed in transfer documents, but nowhere in her personal file. Also, when I called that division of the CIA they hadn't ever heard of her."

"That's strange."

"That's what I thought, and it gets even more fucked up the deeper I dug. I accessed the S.H.I.E.L.D. database again today and she's listed as interviewed and cleared of suspicion for the investigation, but again, no security log of her ever entering the building. Pretty suspicion, since she was listed as the last to access the missing documents. We're already talking about a problem with compromised and missing files. How do we know other records haven't been tampered with, like hers? That's what looks like happened here."

"Good point… How did you get into the database again, did you make another visit to Fury?"

"I may or may not have installed something when I was there last to help me bypass the security."

"Tony-"

"What? I'll tell Fury about it, eventually. Is it my fault things aren't locked down as tight as he thinks they are? He should thank me for checking out the system. His agents sure as hell aren't doing a good job of it."

Steve sighed. "Anything else I need to know about?"

"Yeah; I tried calling Agent Shelley earlier today, since I had contact information from her records. All the line did was ring. All four times I tried. I checked her location and she's about twenty blocks north-east of you. I thought maybe it'd be worth having you go check in the morning, see if she's home. If she's not the one behind this, maybe she has an idea of whether or not someone in the agency would be capable and have a motive we're missing."

Steve frowned. "What makes you think she'll talk to me?"

"Because you're good looking and single – unless you finally want to admit you've been seeing someone," Tony ribbed, and Steve groaned.

"Not this again – Tony, it's three in the morning, we've got something bigger to deal with, the last thing we need to talk about is this girl you think I'm seeing who is nothing more than a figment of your imagination because I'm not seeing anyone!"

"So she's a real dream, huh?"

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it."

"Can't blame a friend for trying, Cap."

"If there isn't anything else, Tony, give me Agent Shelley's address so I can write it down and go to bed. I'll head over there in the morning, so I'll be late for training."

Tony gave Steve the address, and he hung up in the middle of the billionaire's suggestion to ask the Agent out on a date, if she turned out to be innocent of the investigation and she wasn't already seeing someone else.

Sitting down at the kitchen table with his milk, Steve frowned, eyeing the address.

It bothered him to think that there was an agent that was abusing their position, especially when it meant they were using that power to assist in potential terrorist acts. Whoever it was behind the missing files, they were making it difficult for them to effectively stop any future weapons shipments that might be headed for U.S. soil, and also sullying the records for another fellow agent. That was, if Agent Shelley wasn't somehow involved in the mess. He hoped not, or if she was, that there was an explanation of why.

It also bothered him that Tony has still not let up on him about the imaginary women he'd had an alleged coffee date with. Since the incident with running into Pepper, Tony had questioned him almost daily about it, prodding him for a name and a description of the non-existent mystery woman, and wondering aloud if she was the reason for Steve's repeated and frequent absence from team get-togethers.

It frustrated Steve to no end that there was no way to explain to Tony, or to any of the team for that matter, that the only people he was seeing on a regular basis, and neither of them were women, were a child and one of their former enemies? That there weren't any afternoon coffee dates with some girl, just – lunches and dinners, and workouts and reading with Loki.

He realized he was blushing again, and forcing himself not to draw any parallels between the time he spent with Loki and the time one usually spent dating, he chugged the rest of the milk, then set to rinsing the glass in the sink and returning to bed.

He laid in the darkness, wishing for sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he found himself envisioning thin, pale lips closed over his finger, and a set of vibrant green eyes lifting to meet his…

The fourth time he'd turned over and tried to will the thought away and it returned after a few moments, he growled at himself, sat up, and turned on the bedside lamp, rubbing hands over his face as if that would somehow stop him from blushing.

_What the heck is wrong with you, Steven Rogers?_ He mentally berated himself_, Get your mind out of the gutter. There's no one you should be thinking about like that, least of all another man – __**especially**__ another man!_

He climbed out of bed and got down on the floor, putting himself through a series of sit-ups, then push-ups, two hundred sets of each, and then another hundred after that.

When he was finished he remained at the bedside and, for good measure, said his prayers for a second time that night, asking this time for the ability to sleep, and then got back into bed.

His prayers, it seemed, were answered for the time being, because the evasive sleep was finally found.

* * *

It was almost nine o' clock the next morning when Steve made his way over to Agent Shelley's apartment complex, and pausing in the hall outside the door, he knocked, then waited. A second knock, louder this time, and still nothing.

He knocked third time, and was just about to leave when there was nothing, when a door opposite and a few feet down from where he stood, an a short, elderly woman in a yellow bathroom and curlers poked her pinched face out and looked at him.

"You a friend of Miss Amber?" She jabbed a finger at Agent Shelley's door. "I've got her mail, if she's back."

"Her mail, ma'am?"

"What?" The woman frowned at him, and then tapped her ear. "Speak up, son."

He spoke again, slower and louder this time. "You have her mail?"

The woman nodded and disappeared, then reappeared again, this time with an armload of newspapers and envelopes. "Her boyfriend said she was going on vacation. Strange fellow, I hadn't seen him before, seemed a little old for her, but who am I to tell young people what to do, they think I don't know anything!"

Steve took the mail from her and glanced at it, some of the newspapers dating at least a couple weeks back.

"How long ago did this happen, when did she go on vacation?"

"What?"

"When did she leave?"

"Oh, let's see now… it before Christmas? I don't know, can't be bothered to keep track of these things. Nice girl, but who has that kind of time and money to be running off to who knows where? Young people these days…"

Thanking the woman for the mail and waiting for her to go back into her own apartment, Steve turned back to the other door, and frowned at what she'd said, because Christmas had been three months ago.

He tried the handle, but found it locked, then, glancing to make sure no one else were around, he used his full weight and threw himself shoulder first at the door. It fell open, and he stumbled in, and then closed the door behind him, hoping the sound hadn't caught anyone's attention.

He looked around the apartment, checking the living room, the hallway, and small joined bedroom and bath. Nothing seemed particularly amiss, no items askew, and it didn't look like, from the glimpse in the closet, that she had taken any of her clothing with her. The apartment showed signs that someone had once lived there, but a thin layer of dust betrayed a lack of care and inhabitants.

He went into the kitchen and paused, frowning when he noticed that two large wire racks usually found inside of refrigerators as shelving, were resting propped up against the cabinets, and the trash bin in the corner was heaping full of several perishable items, a half-empty jug of juice and browning, soggy lettuce heaped over who knew what else.

He went to the refrigerator, and frowned, realizing there was a dried, browning puddle beneath the door, and he opened it.

A rare swear word escaped him, and he slammed the fridge door shut.

After composing himself he fumbled in his coat pocket for the cell phone, rapidly finding the button to quick-dial Tony.

"Stark."

"—Tony, Agent Shelley is dead."

"—What?!"

"She's dead, Tony – I just found the body."

"At the apartment?"

"Yes, in the apartment, I -"

"Hold on," Tony barked some orders away from the phone, and Steve could hear both Clint and Bruce answering. Tony came back on the line. "Just stay put, Clint is calling S.H.I.E.L.D. We'll have some agents there as soon as we can get them there."

"Her fingers are gone." Steve stepped out of the kitchen, rubbing a hand over his face. He'd seen more than his fair share of victims and the dead during the war, but he'd never gotten used to it. And here, in a setting as benign as a small apartment in the middle of New York…

"Tony's voice brought him back out of his thoughts. "All of her fingers are gone?"

"Yes."

"Fingers _and_ thumbs?"

"Yes."

"— You're sure? Could you double check?"

"Tony, I'm sure – I know what I saw."

"Steve, please, I need you to look again. If it's all her fingers, it could account for how whoever is behind this is getting past the security protocols. Some of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security levels requires fingerprint recognition as well as an issued security pass."

"You mean whoever took her fingers has used them?" Steve swallowed against the taste of bile in his throat.

"Yeah, exactly that. Can you look again?"

Reluctantly Steve went back to the kitchen and opened the fridge again, steeling himself against what was inside.

Agent Shelley's body was shoved inside at an unnatural angle, half twisted sideways and her head cocked sharply to one side. Even for being in the fridge, she was in a state of slow decomposition, and Steve had to cover his nose against the smell. Her arms were crossed over her body, and on the second look Steve saw again that all the fingers had indeed been taken; severed at the second knuckle, all that remained were gory stumps where they should have been.

"Yes, the fingers are gone, like I said before. Tony, I can't keep looking at this."

"That's fine Cap, that's enough. I'm sorry I needed you look again, I just needed to be sure. If you're okay to hang up, I'll call Fury."

"I'll – I'll be waiting outside the apartment."

Disconnecting the call, Steve stepped outside and shut the door, leaning against the wall as he waited for S.H.E.I.L.D. to arrive.

* * *

"How the fuck long have you motherfuckers been going behind my goddamn back?"

Fury eyed both Steve and Tony from across the conference table, and Steve swallowed, less than thrilled at being in the cross-hairs of the Director's anger.

"Look, Fury," Tony said, holding up his hands in a display of surrender, "Lay off of Steve, okay? This was my idea – I'm the one that broke into the system, took the files, and looked at all the data. All I did was ask Cap to do the dirty grunt work of going to pay an Agent a visit. He's a boy scout about everything, you don't seriously think he'd come up with something like this, do you?"

Steve could have been knocked over with a feather, and glanced at Tony, who shot him back a look of 'what?'

"Tony, I—"

"Shut up, Steve." Tony gave him another look. "You didn't do a damn thing with those files, and you know it. So does Fury. You're our leader and you're a good fighter, but advanced technology is part of my skill set, not yours."

"And what the hell possessed you to do any of this, Stark?" Fury snapped.

Tony scoffed. "I can't speak for the rest of the team, but I'd sure like to know the information we're using to bust our asses on these missions is actually useful; I don't do this kind of work for shits and giggles, Director, I do it because I want to and can. I could just as easily be in the Bahamas with a case of scotch but I use my time like this as a personal favor to humanity. If you're going to be breathing down our necks and putting the heat on us for not catching these jackasses, I need to know if we've been failing because this team is lacking the initiative, or if it's because _your_ agents haven't been pulling even a fourth of their weight and getting us the intel we need."

"That is enough out of you-"

"-Hey, you wanted an answer, I gave it to you. There it is; I hacked your system because, yes, I think I've got more brains than a vast majority of the world – genius and all – because I _could_. And gosh, look at what I found. There are more holes in the security here than fucking Swiss cheese and someone is tampering with the information!"

"I said _enough_! Stark, as of this minute you are on suspension from the Avengers Initiative, you-"

"Director," Steve finally piped up, earning him a surprised look from Fury, as he rarely interrupted, "As much as tampering with the security system is wrong," he shot a look at Tony, then glanced back at Fury, "Tony did discover information that none of your people did. If you suspend him, he won't be any help to us."

"Are you suggesting I give him a slap on the damn wrist, Captain, and leave it at that?"

"I'm suggesting, Director Fury, that for the time being you allow Stark to aid you in the investigation, with your full knowledge of what he's doing instead of him doing it behind your back."

For a few moments Steve was certain the vein in Fury's forehead would finally bust as the silence stretched out between the three of them, tense and heavy; at last Fury jabbed a finger at Tony and leveled the other man with a hard look.

"You will be under surveillance the entire time you are here working on this investigation; you will answer to _me_ for daily, if not bi-daily meetings. So get comfortable, Stark, we'll be issuing you one a one of the headquarter rooms while you're working on this."

Tony laughed. "Oh, hell no. I am _not_ staying cooped up here at headquarters for who knows how long. I have places to go, people to avoid, and a full bar at home."

"This is not negotiable, Stark."

"Yes, it is – I'm not one of your agents, Fury. I'm an Avenger. You don't own me, or any of us, as much as you wish you did. I'll come here, and I'll help with your investigation, but on the condition that at the end of the day I go home."

"If you take one wrong step with this, Stark, I will have you off the team. Don't think this is you getting off lightly either, there will be repercussions." Steve swallowed again as Fury's gaze landed squarely on him. "Is there anything else I need to know regarding this matter from you, Captain?"

"—No, sir." Steve hesitated, and then shook his head, almost instantly wracked with guilt.

"Then you two are dismissed for the time being. Stark, I expect you to return here at eighteen hundred hours for further instructions on how you'll be assisting with the investigation."

"Great, this means I can cancel that dinner theater thing Pepper put on my schedule."

Steve and Tony both exited the conference room, and made their way out of headquarters, silent the entirely time they walked.

It wasn't until they got outside that Steve rounded on the other man. "—You didn't have to do that, Tony. You know I'm just as much to blame as you are, I'm the one that asked you to check those files!"

"Steve, you're S.H.I.E.L.D.'s golden boy, and you're the one that keeps the team together, not me. Remember; me brains, you leader. I took the fall for this one, so deal with it. You'll just owe me later."

Steve sized the other man up, then smiled a little. "I'm actually proud of you, Tony. You do realize you just did something again that wasn't self-serving, right?"

"Shut up, Steve. If you let it get out, I won't forgive you." Tony punched him lightly in the arm. "I'm proud of you too. For not blowing it back there and letting Fury know your involvement. We'll make a good liar out of you yet."

At those words, Steve's stomach felt like it dropped.

* * *

Returning to Langone Medical Center later that day, Steve took a change of pace and went to visit Charlie first, visiting with the boy, before he went down to the fourth floor to see Loki.

He hesitated at the door when he got there, then knocked, waiting for the quiet 'come in' before he entered.

Loki glanced up at him from the book he was reading, then back down at the pages. "You are late today."

"—Work." Steve crossed the room and took a seat.

"Mmm."

Silence.

"—It was a pretty terrible day," Steve admitted after a few minutes. Loki glanced at him again. "I.. Stark took blame for something that wasn't entirely his fault, and I… I found a woman dead. Murdered."

"—Indeed?" Loki closed his book and set it aside, turning his full attention to him then. Steve nodded.

"Yeah." He paused, shaking his head as he laughed a little. "I've seen more than my fair share of people die, but – that was in the war. During battles, or the aftermath. You expect that. I wasn't prepared with this today."

He fell quiet again, aware that the other man was watching him.

"Death troubles you," Loki said at last.

"Death before it's time, yes."

Loki tilted his head a little, and Steve glanced up at him then away, not wanting to stare when he saw the other man lick his lips a little before he spoke. "How can you know whether it is the time for death or not?"

"Because there's death by natural causes, and then there's death by accident, or death by murder – but butchering, by torture…' Steve trailed off; realizing the topic of conversation might not be the best to venture into considering the state of Loki's body after Asgard, and then mentally he kicked himself for thinking about the other man's body at all.

"Suffering troubles you."

Steve nodded. "It does."

"Is suffering not a part of life?"

Steve nodded and looked at him again. "It is. It's just a part of life I wish no one had to go through."

"You are an idealist." Loki smiled at him faintly, and Steve felt his stomach knot with nerves as he watched the slight pucker of skin at the other man's mouth where there were scars.

"—That's what Tony says to me all the time too."

"Mmm."

Steve looked away and nodded toward the door. "—Did you want to use the gym now that I'm here?"

"I've already been, but thank you."

"—Oh, you did?" Steve smiled a little. "That's great – I mean, that you felt ready try it by yourself."

"It was, of course, nowhere near as productive as it is when you attend with me, but I did manage."

The both fell quiet for a second time, until Loki spoke again. "… I have not yet taken a walk, however, if you might be so kind as to go with me?"

"Oh, sure." Steve stood up and waited for Loki to climb out of bed, and the two of them made their way out into the hall.

"… I spoke with Dr. Ira this afternoon," Loki said, as they walked. "She said it is time for me to consider my options after discharge."

"—You're ready then? The rehabilitation team thinks you're strong enough?""

Loki nodded slowly. "In a week's time at the soonest, though the doctor said I may remain a little longer if needs be to arrange for further services, follow-up care…"

"That's great."

They walked the rest of the length of the hall in silence, then took the elevator down a level to walk the corridors there.

".. I had wondered, perhaps, if it would not be too much to ask of you, if you might inquired at Bowery Mission for my re-admittance."

"You want to go back there?" Steve frowned.

"I've nowhere else to go." Loki shook his head. Steve opened his mouth, and then closed it when the other man continued. "We had not quite finished a month's time lodging there, and an applicant may stay for up to six months. It would allow me further time to recover, and should Charlie be released before that time, he might be allowed to return as well, if it is possible."

"Do you think that's the best idea, going back to where you were both attacked? There has to be another shelter, somewhere you can both—"

"The other facilities would separate us, placing me in men's only lodgings while placing Charlie in a youth lodging house elsewhere due to his age." Loki shook his head again. "I understand the necessity of it, as there are those who would do harm to someone his age, but I cannot, I will not allow us to be separated for such lengths of time as would be required. I have already failed him once, I will not go back on my promise that I should remain as close as possible."

Steve hesitated and then nodded. "I'll see what I can do. I'll go talk to Mr. Higdon for you."

"Thank you, Steve." Loki reached over and placed a hand on his arm, and Steve felt his breath catch in his throat. "Once again, I am indebted to you."

"—I just want to make sure you and Charlie are both safe."

Loki smiled at him again, and then turned his attention forward as they continued to walk, the small smile tugging crookedly at his mouth also tugging hard at something deep down inside of Steve, much to his confusion and intense dismay.


	20. Chapter 19: Words & Honor

_Author's Note: I must have re-written this chapter four times, but here it. Sorry it's a short one. Again, work is eating me alive for the past few days and into the next whole week, but I'm going to do my best to keep cranking more of this story out._

_Warning: Mentions of suicide._

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the Bowery Mission staff, and Charlie at this point. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel._

* * *

**Chapter 19: Words & Honor**

"The good news is the security footage for S.H.I.E.L.D. is being reviewed, so we'll know soon who it was that used Agent Shelley's, uh… well, her fingers," Tony said, as Steve listed to him over the phone. "The bad news is I'm already ready to tell Fury where he can shove his eye patch and I haven't had a goddamn drink in almost ten hours."

"You've been there two days."

'Yeah, we'll it's been two days' worth of pain in my ass."

"If you can get through this without coming to fisticuffs with the Director, I'll buy to a bottle of scotch myself."

"—Fistacuffs? Really Steve, who the hell uses words like that anymore? Remind me to show you the Urban Dictionary sometime so we can expand your vocabulary. Use 'throwdown' or 'bitchslap' or something-"

Steve rolled his eyes, glad that Tony couldn't see him. "You'll keep me updated if you find anything?"

"Yes, I'll keep you updated." Tony paused and Steve could hear Fury barking orders in the background. "—Yeah, yeah, no social calls on the clock. Fuck my life – I've got to go Steve. I'll call you after I get done here so the big bad wolf doesn't huff and puff and blow my ass right out of headquarters."

"If I don't answer, just leave a voicemail."

"Oh, got a hot date?"

"-No!" Steve flushed, glancing at the clock. "I just have plans."

"Kiss your girlfriend hello for me."

"I can't Tony, she doesn't exist."

Steve hung up the phone without saying goodbye and shoved it in his pocket, then grabbed his keys and headed for the door. He heard the phone blip once, then a second time, signaling text messages, and he ignored them, not willing to let Tony get to him when he had to get to the medical center and let Loki know how his meeting with Mr. Higdon at Bowery Mission had gone.

Guiding the motorcycle onto the street, Steve wondered how exactly he was going to break the news to the other man; the conversation with Mr. Higdon hadn't gone as well as he'd planned – it hadn't gone well at all. The mission was out of beds, and with the history that Loki and Charlie had there, the man had made it clear that it wasn't in the best interest of the shelter to let the pair back in.

"What do mean?" Steve had asked, and Mr. Higdon had given him the quick and flustered answer.

"Our policy is to bar any individuals involved in a violent act from the shelter's housing program. We just can't afford to have more problems happen, and there are other people in need of a place to stay."

"-Even though they were the victims of the violence and not the instigators?"

"I'm sorry, but that's our policy. "

Steve had been silently outraged at the news, and had spent the rest of the afternoon gathering information from the other shelters, but the only two with any room specified the exact rules Loki had already expressed a fear in, that Charlie would be sent to a different building and visitation would be limited.

He found Loki's room empty when he got there, and heading up to Charlie's room, he found the other man sitting at the bedside, slips of paper with words printed out lay on the little rolling table in front of the boy.

Loki pointed to the paper reading 'blue' . "Can you tell me what this says, Charlie?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "-Ooh."

"Yes, blue." Loki pointed to 'green'. "And this one?"

"Eee," followed by a huff.

"Yes, green." Loki paused and glanced up at him, and Steve waved at them both, and then stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Hey."

"Hello." Loki glanced at the boy again, who grinned at Steve and lifted one unsteady hand to wave back.

Steve motioned toward the hall. "I can go and come back later when you're finished-"

"Uh." Charlie motioned for Steve to come into the room, and he did, smiling as he took the seat next to Loki.

Loki patted the boy's arm. "Charlie is doing his practice for speech therapy tomorrow. He is doing very well."

"I see." Steve sat forward and pointed at 'red'. "What color is this one?"

Charlie gave Steve a look. "Rehh."

Loki nodded. "Very good. Can you say all three this time? Blue, green, red?"

Charlie huffed again. "Ooh, Eee, Rehh."

"That's great Charlie." Steve offered the boy another smile. Charlie pushed the papers away and gave Loki another look.

The other man laughed and collected the words, setting them aside. "Yes, enough for today. I know you dislike it, but it is necessary. You will do splendidly tomorrow, I am certain of it."

Charlie made a motion toward the bedside stand, and Loki took one of the books and held it up. "Do you wish for me to read to you for a while?"

"Ehh." Charlie nodded.

Loki glanced at Steve. "Would you be kind enough to assist me? We might take turns reading, if that is agreeable."

Steve nodded. "Sure."

Loki began and Charlie listened with what appeared to be attentive earnest as the story of _The Boxcar Children_ unfolded, Steve taking a turn with the second chapter when Loki passed him the book.

They made it partway into the third chapter when Charlie dozed off, and quietly putting "the book aside, the two men took their leave, Steve holding the door open while Loki limped his way out into the hall behind him.

"He's looking a lot better," Steve noted as they went to the elevator. Loki nodded.

"He is doing better."

"And the speech therapy?"

"Slow, but any progress is good progress." Loki punched the button for the fourth floor, the glanced at Steve. "He knows the words he wishes to say, but there is difficulty in producing the correct sounds, in making his mouth and tongue take the required form."

"I see he's gotten a bit of an attitude."

"Mmm." Loki nodded.

Steve laughed. "Reminds me of someone else."

Loki glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. "Who?"

"A little of you."

"Of me? Are you implying I've attitude?"

"Sometimes." The other man looked as if he didn't know whether to be offended or not, so Steve quickly added, "- I didn't mean it in a bad way. A little attitude can be good."

"Or quite terrible, depending upon whom you ask."

"Well, you're asking me, and I think it's fine. In moderation."

Reaching the elevator they reached simultaneously to press the button, and Steve hastily drew his hand back when his fingers brushed over Loki's, glancing at the other man quickly, then away when the other man glanced at him as well.

"—How'd your physical therapy appointment go this morning?"

"… Well enough, for a cripple."

"—You're not a cripple."

Loki ignored his words and looked ahead at the elevator doors, his voice edged with bitterness. "It seems I shall have need for this damn thing," he tapped the cane against his foot, "Perhaps for the remainder of my human existence, however long that may be."

Steve nodded slowly, remembering what Dr. Ira had said about Loki's injuries both from the attack and prior. "For the rest of your life? They're sure about that?"

"Yes."

"But you're walking now, and you couldn't before. That's something, isn't it? Like you said about Charlie, any progress is good progress."

"… It is different for myself than for Charlie, Steve."

"Why is that?"

"What seems like progress to you, and for Charlie... well it is nothing to me. The ability to walk physically is nothing compared to walking between worlds, as I used to do. Now I cannot do the latter and the former is a trial. Where you see strength, I see nothing but weakness."

Steve frowned a little. "You're not weak, not nearly as weak as you were last month. You've come a long way."

"You are also not familiar with the customs of my world." Loki smiled, but the expression was tight and held no humor. "The Æsir are a proud people, warriors. The past legends of your world hold true in the code s of conduct; it is honorable to die in battle, and if you have not died, it is best to commit one's own death rather than face the shame. Most especially if you have been irreparably injured and are no longer strong enough to be of any use to your people, if you are no longer able to fight in battle. It is encouraged when you are weak."

Steve stared at him. "It's _what_?"

Loki glanced at him again, an eyebrow raised. "Did Thor never speak to you of what occurred between he and I in Asgard? Of before the Chitauri, before I came to this world for the tesseract…"

Steve shook his head. "No, he never mentioned it."

They stepped into the elevator and Loki continued. "When he returned from Midgard I had been given the throne by Figga, while Odin lay in deep sleep. He… harbored great anger with me, for withholding truths from him, for many things. We fought, and the bifrost, our means of traveling the worlds, was destroyed during the battle. I had attempted to use its power to destroy Jotunheim. Yet Thor did not kill me, thought I would have killed him. I lost, and Odin had awoken."

The elevator doors opened for them again, and they stepped out, Steve watching Loki carefully, but his face was smoothed into a blank, expressionless mask, impassive as he spoke again. "I had hoped, believed even, that Odin would accept my attempt to destroy Jotunheim, would accept the murder of my father by blood, as acts of fealty; that through them he would never question my loyalty to Asgard though I myself am Jotun. He did not."

"What happened?"

"Thor and I had both fallen when the bifrost collapsed, he holding to the severed bridge with one hand and to Gungnir, Odin's spear and the symbol of rulership; and I held to the other end of Gungnir. When Odin came, when I attempted to explain my actions, he rejected them. I was… forsaken by the All-Father. I was shamed by my inability to best Thor in our battle – I, the ruling king of Asgard had not defended the throne with success. Again, it was weakness on my part." Loki shook his head. "I have always been looked upon as weak in Asgard. I could not remain there when I had failed in so many ways. I tried to do the honorable act – I let go of Gungnir and fell into the abyss. I had hoped I might at least die with some semblance of dignity."

They had reached Loki's room by that time, and Steve sank down in the chair while Loki took a seat on the edge of his bed.

It took Steve a few attempts before he could find his voice. "… So you tried to kill yourself."

"Oh yes." Loki nodded, and then laughed but the sound was clipped, full of poorly disguised anger and pain. "And even in _that_ I failed. Upon my return to Asgard in chains when I was defeated here, the Æsir did not let me forget that fact. 'He cannot even die with honor' and 'the trickster has tricked even death in his dishonesty' were the whispers among the court; whispers that the guards of the prison brought to me while they wrought out my punishments."

The fell silent, and Steve watched the other man for a moment, the former god's gaze flickering up to meet his, then turned and focused out the window.

"Do you… ever wish you were dead now?" Steve asked at last, very cautiously.

"At times." Steve sat forward in his chair to speak and Loki glanced at him again, quietly interrupting. "You've no need to fear I will do such a thing, Captain. I have sworn my protection to Charlie and I do not intend to carry out such any plans to end my life while he is in need of me. I may be a miserable and lost creature, but I am not so terrible as to harm that boy with such a selfish action."

"-Is that the only reason?"

Loki hesitated, and then shook his head. "No, it is not."

Steve continued to watch him with a questioning gaze, and the dark-haired man looked away once more after a moment, studying his own hands. "—I would not give the All-Father the satisfaction of besting me in such a way. He thinks he has banished me here as further punishment. I intend now to find what enjoyment of it that I may, though it is difficult. When I find joys, be they even small, I defy Odin with each moment of my happiness."

Steve frowned. "I wish it was a better reason than that."

"Perhaps, one day I shall have something." Loki shook his head. "But I will not be fool enough to hope for it."

* * *

Steve had waited to break the bad news about the shelter until after they had dinner later that evening, and after the mood had lightened once he'd read for the better part of two hours to Loki from the new book he'd brought him.

Loki listened to what Mr. Higdon had said, and then sat back with a weary sigh.

"This leaves me with very few options."

Steve dug the paperwork he'd picked up from the other locations from his satchel and passed it to Loki. "I know it's not what you wanted, but these are from the shelters that have open beds available."

"… And when Charlie is well enough to leave this place, I will have failed him yet again." Loki glanced over the paperwork briefly, and then let it rest in his lap as he ran fingers through his hair in a gesture of agitation. "Nor am I certain what to do for means of employment in hopes of making payment for lodgings. I cannot return to the docks when I am like this," he gestured toward his legs, "And shortly after my arrival to your world I was informed that one needs an identification of Social Security to obtain most positions."

"—Oh." Steve frowned, realizing he'd hadn't considered all the difficulties of not only being homeless, but also of not being from the country. After a few moments of silence passed, he cleared his throat, then added, "—I'll check with some of the other shelters again tomorrow and see if I can't find somewhere that'd be willing to let you and Charlie stay together."

Loki glanced at him, then down at the paperwork in his lap, his voice quiet. "Thank you."

After he returned home that night Steve made a few phone calls to the shelters that kept their information centers open later in the evening and poured over the classified ads from the newspaper, looking to see what jobs might be available for someone in Loki's position, but to Steve's dismay, there were none.

Words like "must be able to lift least 50 lbs.", "3-5 years' experience required," and "bachelor's degree a must" made his heart sink as he realized the enormity of what the other man had been faced with, trying not only to make his way in the world fresh while recovering from his injuries in Asgard, but without much in the way of being able to get a fresh start.

After two hours of reading and phone calls, he absently flipped the paper to the 'rentals' section and glanced over the listings there, his eye lingering on any of the listings for Brooklyn, and grimacing when he noted the outrageous prices of several spaces. There was simply no way that the other man and Charlie would be able to find or afford housing in the present situations and conditions.

The shelter seemed to be the only viable option.


	21. Chapter 20: Heart & Mind

_Author's Note: We are back to Loki, and now we get a rare look to see what's actually going on under that cool as a cucumber exterior. Of note, in the description of past events in this chapter, Loki's age at that time would have been about equivalent being 18. _

_Also, a small note for everyone that is upset with how Steve was in the last chapter; I can assure you, there is a logical reason for his behavior (you'll see shades of it here) and in the upcoming chapters as well - maddening, but logical. Also in response to Lyo's review for the last chapter: What seems illogical will be clear in the future where Odin, S.H.I.E.L.D. and such are concerned. There is a point for everything in this, which I've been pre-plotting for, and I may actually end up having to split it into two stories at this rate with everything I've got for material, because we aren't even halfway there yet. _

_Warning: WHOA WHOA WHOA – here we get some quick steaminess of the man-on-man variety. And angst. _

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the Bowery Mission staff, Hakon who is introduced in this chapter, and Charlie. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel._

* * *

**Chapter 20: Heart & Mind**

He and Steve never spoke about what had happened over the tiramisu; why should they?

It had been an accident, impulsive and unthinking when he'd done it, and while the days that followed reverted them back to most of their usual interaction, Loki still couldn't stop his mind from turning back to that instant, the sensation of Steve's finger brushing against his mouth, the combined taste of the mascarpone and cocoa, or the brief second when their eyes had met before they'd both pulled away. More than once when he was alone, he'd found himself lifting a hand to brush that same spot, and chided himself ruthlessly for it.

The soldier's eyes had always been blue, so why now, when they glanced at one another during lunch or dinner, did he find himself looking away, unable to hold the other man's gaze for too long while at the same time fighting a sudden, stupid desire to keep looking, as if the color were more fascinating, more vibrant than before?

Why now, when Steve helped him in the gym with his exercises, did his stomach clench and coil whenever the other man corrected his form, when a hand brushed against his arm, his back, when their fingertips accidentally brushed as Steve would pass him the water bottle or a different free weight?

Why did it matter now, when Steve remained after dinner and read to him, that the man's voice struck certain consonants harder than others, that he now noticed every fluctuation of tone?

It shouldn't. It didn't. That's what Loki continued to tell himself.

He'd been too long alone, he reasoned, first in Asgard's prisons, then on the streets, and in the hospital; three and a half earth years' worth of time struggling to survive. Charlie had been the one, lone individual he'd allowed to stir any feeling from him; but again, love was for children. That was the safest.

Not that he was in love with the Captain. No - he was not in love, because he would never allow himself to be as stupid and foolish as that. They had been enemies, and while they had managed to bridge that gap due to the circumstances, it was nothing more.

Of course, it made sense, he also reasoned, that it would be the Captain that would be the one to cause a temporary lapse in his caution, when the man was so frequently in his company. The frequency of his visits, that the other man had become so invested in assisting him; of course it would have been Steve that he would foolishly let his guard slip in the company of for the sheer fact that he was around so often. If it had been another in the soldier's place, the same would have happened, would it not have?

Reasoning, however, didn't stop some part of his chest from constricting when Steve, aside from their physical therapy sessions, had begun to keep a polite distance at other times, how the other man withdrew as soon as he's finished escorting him down the hall, or when their hands brushed casually in interaction; that now there was a subtle, unspoken formality that hadn't been there before. Reasoning didn't quell the tremor of disappointment he felt when, upon inquiring after the origin of the treat that had caused the problem to begin with a couple of days later, Steve had quickly murmured something about Italy, and then changed the subject.

Whatever that moment with the other man had caused, it meant nothing. Nothing more than that he needed to exercise more caution, more care; that he could not and would not allow himself to feel anything but gratitude and a deep sense of indebtedness. No sentiment could be spared. There was no reason for it.

In the daytime he continued to act as if he felt nothing more than the grudging friendship he would not give outright acknowledgement of, and when his disappointments rose, he swallowed them back down and silently berated himself for their existence. He also raged silently at himself in the evenings after Steve had left for the night, for the unbidden a strong pang of longing that had begun to invariably rise as he watched the other man leave the room, a desire to follow him out into the hall, to the elevator, and beyond into the world outside.

He was no longer some foolish youth, no longer innocent and ignorant; he was grown, and while no longer immortal, he had been a god, had been wise in many of the ways of the universe! He should have known better now than to let a single, strange moment to cloud his thoughts.

He also refused, steadfastly, to acknowledge that the feelings the incident had caused were not entirely foreign, unwilling to recall past memories of times long ago that he no longer wished to remember; for long ago, it hadn't only been one woman who had caught his attention in Asgard.

Once, there had been a man.

* * *

_It happened at the height of the season of light, when the days stretched out in length to their fullest, it was custom for a grand hunt to be held at that time; and per custom, the warriors of Asgard readied themselves, donning their finest armor, readying their steeds, and making a great show of their preparations. They rode from the city amid the usual fanfare, women and children, and those select few who were chosen to remain behind and tend them, lining the streets to watch the warriors ride out to the bifrost and travel to Midgard._

_As he had done the year prior, Loki chose to remain behind, to guard the palace and keep company with Frigga, as it was one of the rare times he could be certain he might have time to spend with her. Fate, however, had other plans for him that season, as his mother was heavy with child again, and caught in the sickness of mornings had kept to her rooms._

_Wandering the halls of the palace, he listened to the murmurs of the guards placing bets on who would fare best in the hunt, who would return with the greatest beast for the feast. Loki scoffed, knowing full well that it would be his father, as no other warrior would stand between the All-Father and his right as ruler of all the realms to claim the largest stag or boar as his kill._

_Loki hated the hunt and had only gone once, the first year he was deemed old enough, and he had been unable to avoid it when Odin had commanded him to recognize and honor custom; he hated the violent chaos, the bravado as the warriors would return, dragging their trophies into the great kitchens where, as a child he had once hidden with Thor and watched in utter terror as the butchers and cooks hacked and skinned the animals, preparing them for eating. He loathed the blood, the glassy eyed gaze of the creatures, the way their tongues fell from opened mouths as if they had been slaughtered mid-cry. _

_During his first and only hunt he had returned with only a lone goose tied to the pommel of his saddle while Thor returned with three geese and a small boar, The Warriors Three and his brother had never let him live down that he had silently wept when his dagger had found the bird's delicate neck, when he had never meant to kill it, the thrown weapon never meant to find its mark. There was no need for him to do it, he tried to reason, when the banquet tables would already be overflowing with more meat than the hunting party could consume in a week, but it was still seen as a shame, that he, a prince of Asgard, had not fared better, that he let softness toward the Midgardian animals stay his hand from a bigger, better kill..._

_It was as he drew near to the private chambers, hoping beyond hope that perhaps Frigga's sickness had passed and she might be amiable to venture out from her bed-rest for fresh air, that he heard an unfamiliar voice conversing with the guards at the door._

_Rounding the corner he saw another man, a fair-haired Æsir noble easily identified by his manner of dress, pacing the hall._

_"There is little sport in Midgard, where we all know what the hunt will yield," one of the guards was arguing. "Better to ride to Svartálfaheimr, or Jotunheim and find a beast worthy for the kill!"_

_"You must be mad, to think that a hunt in another realm would bring anything but war!" The man pointed an accusing finger the guard. "I for one would not take sport over peace."_

_"Nor would I," Loki said, interrupting the conversation. All four guards gave him the customary formal bow of acknowledgement, and so did the other man, albeit a few seconds after the others, as he had scanned him from head to foot first. After making the gesture the other man continued, throwing the guards a haughty look before he greeted him. _

_"Finally, a voice of reason." He strode over to him and extended an arm. "Visegreve Hakon __Sveinn__son. Prince Loki, I presume. I feel I would know you anywhere, from what my father has said, though he was not fair in his assessment of your stature. You seem as if are as tall as Thor, or near to it."_

_Loki was unable to contain a small blush at that; through the course of the winter season prior he had gained a full hand of height, had shed the last lingering softness of youth, and at long last in the places where his royal regalia had been too loose he fit perfectly, lean muscle he'd earned grudgingly through countless sessions of sparring with Thor and their weapons master. He clasped the other man's arm in return in greeting, an eyebrow raised as he made a guess. "__Sveinn_son_? The son of Greve __Sveinn, __if I am not mistaken?"_

_"You are not." The other man grinned at him._

_"And what else, if I dare to ask, has your father said me?"_

_"That you are unlike your brother in almost all respects, but have a fine head for the finer details of politics."_

_"Has he?" Loki was genuinely surprised, rarely hearing any feedback from the court that what Thor and his father care to share with him. He sized the other man up; of course he was familiar with his father, Greve Sveinn, having seen the man at court now for several seasons, but he had never before met any of his children, and from the looks of it Hakon was not many seasons his senior if his appearance gave any indication. "What brings you to the palace? Were you not desirous to attend the hunt?"_

_Hakon nodded to the closed doors. "My father and brothers ride out on the hunt and have left me behind to tend the womenfolk. My mother and sisters comes with herbs to ease the queen's aches. Naturally I was required to escort them and now I shall wait, for however many hours they decide to speak of birthing and children."_

_"It is most kind of your family, to bring my mother such a gift." _

_"The queen has been more than generous to the people, it is only right that the people are good to her in return."_

_"Your mother and sisters shall be as well guarded here as the queen herself," Loki said, and the guards again made a small, formal bow in acknowledgement. "Perhaps you would be good and accompany me to the garden for more talk. I would much like to hear more of your thoughts on the hunt and of war."_

_Hakon agreed and they spent the remainder of the day in each other's company, discussing the realm's politics, the court gossip, and of their own lives as they walked, then lingered to dine at one of the garden's stone tables for midday meal. Loki found himself almost instantly drawn to the other man, finding an uncommon ease in his company; and it did not hurt that Hakon was full of praise for his thoughts, for his opinions and ideas._

_Unlike Loki, Hakon's father had dissuaded his eldest son from entering the court and becoming knowledgeable in the ways of their world and the other realms. _

_"Better to remain innocent in ignorance than corrupt with knowledge, and he would have me take helm of the estate and play nursemaid to the women of our household, while he attends to the things he wishes to do," Hakon snorted. "What my father does not know is I keep well informed all of what occurs at court though he would not have me attend. For a few coins, his own stable master brings me news from the palace and around Asgard!"_

_"Would that my father would allow me one moment's peace to forsake the good of Asgard," Loki sighed, "And let me do as I wished."_

_"What would you do?"_

_"I would not spar, for one."_

_"You dislike weaponry?"_

_Loki shook his head. "I see the good in the knowledge, but I dislike how I am made to use it. I have been taught to fight like Thor, and not as my own person. It is looked down upon to use stealth for attack, to use cunning to avoid a blow than to take it and deliver my own head on."_

_"What else would you do?"_

_Loki was hesitant to reveal his secret, but the other man was persuasive with his words, and, finding a quiet, shaded corner of the garden, he conjured magic to his fingertips, a flame brightly burning that he set spinning and dancing over his hands, then made vanish. "I would spend all day doing as I have never been allowed to do."_

_Hakon was awestruck. "Show me again. I have heard of sorcery but never before seen such a thing as this!"_

_Loki made the fire again, the bright light once again spinning around and over his fingers._

_Hakon watched him keenly. "You and I share this in common then. The desire to do as we wish, but are never afforded the freedom to do."_

_"What do you wish to do, aside from know what happens at court?"_

_"Many things," Hakon mused, then added, still watching him with an intensity that made Loki's stomach churn, "The fire is green when you call it, green like your eyes."_

_Loki blushed, suddenly very self-aware as they sat in the shade of a giant willow tree. "Green, like the grass," he offered instead as he sent the flame to vanish again, but Hakon shook his head, smiling though his gaze was serious._

_"No, like your eyes – the grass does not have such a spark to it."_

_When he didn't know how to respond, Hakon reached over and placed a hand against his wrist, and Loki tensed, unused to so much close contact from anyone but his immediate family._

_"My father was very unkind of his assessment of your attributes," the other man murmured. "Even if you were not so tall as your brother, anyone with eyes can see you have not only gained the brilliance of your family, but the handsomeness."_

_Before Loki could utter a single word, the other man leaned over and kissed him. _

_The feast that night after the hunt the only one in his memory that Loki had not loathed, for he had sat beside Hakon, their knees bumping under the table, their fingers brushing when they reached for their shared cup. _

_For the first time in a very long time, Loki felt as if there were another soul in Asgard that understood him, even just a little, that had noticed him, and what has passed between them in the garden had set his mind and his stomach churning. Hakon had been as desirous of his company as Loki had been to ask for it, and then he had wanted more than mere conversation – the other man had wanted a kiss and taken it, then the several more that followed under the willow tree, and he had freely given them, though they were clumsy, unable to resist after the first and each one after it setting a new stitch in his heart where he hadn't known there had been need for mending._

_The reminder of the summer was tumultuous and wild; they each found reason to seek the other out, Hakon coming to the palace to bring more fresh herbs for Frigga from his mother and sisters, Loki going out into the city under the pretense of putting all his learning from lessons into good practice to cultivate a good rapport with the city's merchants and politicians, to learn what the people said outside the palace walls of their king and of the other realms. _

_They were secretive in their meetings, both knowing full well that what they did would be frowned upon by all; it was not to be done, though men and women had been caught before, to engage in the kinds of embraces and kisses that were meant for a betrothed of the opposite se, it was forbidden. To do so was punishable before the court if one were a courtier, or beyond the people of the city, if it was a commoner. Yet Loki found himself compelled to continue anyway, having discovered someone that, for the first time he could remember, set his heartbeat racing as if it would burst from his chest, that gave him an elation not unlike the blissful instances where he was able to use his magic unhindered. _

_They would find a hidden place; the upper levels of the library or a dusty, long forgotten closet in the palace, or in the loft of a stable, or out in the woods when they could chance to escape past the city sentry, and get lost in their conversations, but more often in each other's lips, and as Loki lost his initial shyness, in the exploration of each other's bodies. _

_Hakon, he quickly learned, was not inexperienced in their meetings as he was. The other man had been with other men, and that knowledge set a terrible jealousy burning in Loki, a jealousy he hadn't known he could possess and that Hakon would at times exploit against him in the midst of their rendezvous._

_"You come apart quicker than anyone else," Hakon murmured, as he explored the lower region of Loki's body with teasing, kneading fingertips. Such statements caused Loki to lose his composure even quicker, to give more, to learn faster. He hated that he was new to the pleasures he was learning, that his attempts to reciprocate were fumbling and inexperienced, and on more than one occasion Hakon had to guide him, a own hand clasped over his to quicken and tighten his ministrations._

_It was the beginning of winter when he had allowed the other man at long last to have what had been requesting for some time, and what Hakon had called the crowning glory of the pleasures they had found together. _

_Locking themselves in one out of a hundred rooms of the palace, down an infrequently used corridor, he had at long last let his lover take the lead and mount him; and the union had been shattering, stripping him bare and leaving him shaking and shaken beneath Hakon, overwhelmed with every touch, every sensation, and sound. That he could feel so completely open with another being that he felt such pleasure in the joining of their bodies astonished him to silent, blissful contentment as he felt asleep afterward with his head against the other man's chest._

_He woke an hour later to find himself alone, and when he sought the other man out, Hakon was nowhere to be found. The next day he searched their usually meeting places, and when he went at last to the door of Hakon's home, the other man had taken him aside, and in hurried words, explained that there was nothing more for them to do. _

_"What do you mean?" He'd asked, appalled._

_The other man hardly blinked. "I have had you, my prince. What else more is there?"_

_"Was… was that all it was? Did it mean nothing to you?" _

_"It did while we had it, but that time is now to become the past."_

_"And what of all the words you said, the things you whispered—"_

_"It is part of the danger, of the thrill, you must know that. You and I have known from the start that it was forbidden. Did you honestly believe it would last?"_

_Loki had turned away then and never again returned to see Hakon, appalled that he had been naive and foolish enough to hope for anything, and hating that he had allowed himself to become so consumed by his emotions, to be so blindly manipulated into giving all of himself away._

_In the time that followed, though none could explain why, exactly when, or how, the prince became even quieter than he had been before, more sullen and dark of mood, and his mischievous acts had begun to betray hints of malice..._

* * *

A week after Steve had brought him the paperwork, Loki finally forced himself to sit down read over it, and selected a shelter to apply to, also in no small part due to Dr. Ira encouraging him to make plans for himself as there was need for the room and bed he had for another incoming patient.

Within forty-eight hours of Steve submitting the application for him he was accepted, and the final preparations were set into motion; in two days he would be released from Langone Center and become a resident of the Fort Washington Men's Shelter, enrolled in their transitional program.

He went through the motions of preparing himself for the move and tried his best not to betray a single emotion over the impending change anymore than he allowed himself to betray anything he felt or thought, listening impassively as the captain made plans for the cab that would take them there, to the fine details of finally obtaining clothing other than pajamas for him to wear.

"The ER had to cut everything you were wearing when you were taken to St. Luke's," Steve said apologetically, though the man had played no part in the items destruction. "What would you like to have?"

"Something warm."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

He was aware, shamefully, that the items that Steve returned with for him the next day had been purchased by the man out of that infallible sense of kindness he possessed. He murmured a 'thank you' before disappearing into the bathroom to change into the simple button down of green flannel and warm, dark grey pants of spun wool, then returned, feeling strangely more self-conscious in the clothing than he had in all the time he'd spent wearing nothing but sleepwear around the other man.

Steve looked him over quickly, then away, nodding as he cleared his throat. "Good. You look good."

"I am also quite comfortably warm. My thanks to you again, for going through the trouble of acquiring it for me."

"Sure, it – it was nothing."

Sitting down on his bed, Loki searched for something to say. "… The taxi shall arrive tomorrow at noon?"

"Yeah. I'll come around eleven, make sure we get you checked out, that you've got everything ready to go."

"I've little I need concern myself with as far as packing." He motioned to the box Steve had brought him, his same box from Bowery Mission. "It is already done."

"How did Charlie take when you told him where you're going?"

Loki hesitated. "He was not pleased."

Steve gave him a sympathetic look, and he looked away, moving to recheck the things he'd put in the box in favor of looking at the other man.

"You don't have to stay there forever, and when Charlie's better, maybe by then something better will open up. One of the other shelters might have room where both of you can stay together."

"Perhaps."

He grew still when Steve moved closer, a hesitant hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Hey."

He looked up at him again, cursing himself when his breath caught in his throat as the soldier searched his eyes.

"It'll be okay."

Loki nodded and looked away again, not because he agreed, but because he wanted Steve to be right - though every traitorous beat of his own heart ached with almost forgotten need and seemed set on making everything wrong.


	22. Chapter 21: Close Quarters

_Author's Note: Back to Steve. I think this chapter will be well received by some of you. ;) _

_Warning: The sexual tension that is going to occur from here on out is **ridiculous**. _

_Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing but the various hospital staffs, the various shelter staffs, and Charlie. The other characters belong to the lucky people at Marvel._

* * *

**Chapter 21: Close Quarters**

Steve watched Tony as he paced the floor, downing another half tumbler full of scotch before he continued talking.

"So the good news is we know who the son-of-a-bitch that used Agent Shelley's information and - well, you know," Tony wiggled the fingers of one hand, "To get into the system, but the bad news is we don't know where the hell the psychopath is. Fury has most of S.H.I.E.L.D. out on a manhunt for the guy, but considering the problem happened in the first place I don't know that I've got much faith in them succeeding."

Steve nodded and looks back down at the file in his lap, re-reading the file for Agent Albrecht; the man was fifty-two, a fairly new recruit to S.H.I.E.L.D. having just joined the agency two years prior after serving in the navy for thirty-two years. Steve simply couldn't understand how a man with such an extensive military background and a long track record of serving his country had decided to murder a fellow agent and conspired to smuggle weapons into the country; what did it take for someone to make that transition, from a seemingly upstanding citizen to a murderer and potential terrorist?

"Fury already has Natasha and Clint on task for this one, but I know for a fact he has no intention of involving me. He's still butthurt over the security breech. So, what do you say," Tony looked over at him as he poured himself another glass of scotch. "We going to round up the rest of the posse and take a shot at this jackass?"

Steve leaned back in his chair and nodded slowly. "We should get the rest of the team up-to-date on this, and form at strategy. You have the data on Albrecht's last known whereabouts and possible connections, right?"

Tony nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't S.H.I.E.L.D. keep all the info to themselves, now would I?"

"Then call Bruce and Thor, have them meet us here tomorrow night, 7pm."

"What, not sooner?" Tony frowned. "Why not right after training?"

Steve groaned inwardly but maintained a passive expression. "- I have plans," then, when he saw Tony open his mouth to say something, added, "An appointment. One I don't really want to have to reschedule."

"Oh." Tony took a swig of his alcohol, still watching him.

Steve closed the file on Albrecht and set it aside on the end table before he rose, glancing at his watch. "It's getting late, Tony. I'll see you in the morning."

"What kind of appointment? I mean, if it's not a _date, then..._"

Steve froze, and glancing at Tony saw the other man smiling at him. His mind fumbled for something, anything.

"- Visiting a homeless shelter."

Tony arched an eyebrow at him, and Steve swallowed hard, realizing what he'd said. Before he could worry any further about it, however, the billionaire snorted and shook his head.

"Jeez, Steve. Here I'm giving you a bad time about a date and you're just off being a do-gooder as usual. What, going to go sign some autographs, promote good-will and hope for the unfortunate? Can you get any more Boy Scout?"

"Probably." Inwardly, Steve felt a wash of relief, glad any potential crisis the conversation could have veered toward had been averted. "You shouldn't talk, Tony. How many charity benefits do you host?"

"Those are tax write-offs."

"Sure."

Tony grinned at him suddenly, a grin that Steve was getting to recognize and wasn't fond of. "Well – since you aren't dating someone, how about I hook you up with this new intern that's working under Pepper?"

He groaned. "No, I don't need you to set me up with anyone-"

"Well clearly if you're not doing your own hooking up, somebody's got to give you a hand—"

"Good night Tony," Steve gave him a look before leaving and sighed a breath of relief in the elevator once the door shut.

He'd told the truth, in a roundabout way; and while he was glad he hadn't had the automatic inclination to lie, that the truth could lead to bigger problems than he already had did nothing help with his nerves.

* * *

The next day at eleven am sharp he was at Langone as promised, and going over the paperwork with Dr. Ira a final time, set to signing Loki out of the center as well as setting everything up for his weekly appointments.

"It's a good thing you're doing, Mr. Rogers, paying for his continuing care," the doctor said, watching him from across the desk.

Steve shook his head as he signed his name to another document. "It's the right thing to do, doctor."

"You will look after him when he's out in the world again, won't you?" She asked, and the question surprised him. He glanced up, and she gave him a knowing look. "He told me he's going to stay at a shelter. There's no guarantee there that he'll get the proper nutrition there, and outside of his appointments here I don't know that he's given much thought to regular exercise or how much opportunity he'll have to do so."

Steve sat back in his chair and took a moment to fight the surge of guilt, one he that he'd been fighting on and off for the past few days, before he nodded. "- I will. I'll look after him."

The feeling of guilt resurfaced shortly later when he went up to collect the other man and found Loki sitting in the waiting area in the hall, his box of things resting on the floor beside him. He glanced up as Steve approached and used his cane to rise from the chair. "I assume everything is ready, Captain?"

Steve nodded and picked up the box. "Yeah, you ready?"

Loki nodded, casting a look back toward the room that had been his. "Yes."

The elevator ride down to the ground floor was silent, Steve doing his best not to look at Loki, who stood at his side, head bowed in what seemed to be deep thought. When they exited the center Steve went to the curb and confirmed that the taxi idling there was indeed for them. He glanced back and was surprised to see Loki lingering near the medical center doors, a fleeting expression of fear passing over his face as he looked at the city around them.

"Hey. You okay?"

The other man's attention snapped to him and his features smoothed before he nodded and made his way over to join him. Helping him into the taxi Steve closed the door once he was seated, then circled to the other side and climbed in, giving the driver the address of the shelter.

"... Are you nervous?" Steve asked as the vehicle moved into traffic.

Loki's answer was quiet. "Why would I be nervous?"

"New place, new experience."

"No."

Steve glanced at him from the corner of his eye and found the other man watching the world outside through the window, his expression once again tinged with fear.

"It's okay if you are, I wouldn't think any less of you for it," Steve started, but Loki cut him off.

"- I am _fine_, Captain."

The remainder of the ride was in silence, and reaching the shelter, Loki didn't wait for Steve before he climbed out the cab and made his way toward the entrance.

Following the dark-haired man in with his belongings, they went to the service desk and verified with the attendant that Loki was expected as a new resident under the name 'James Barnes', and the woman gave Loki a once over before handing him a sheet of paper and began from memory to detail out the rules and schedule printed on it.

"Wake up is six am, breakfast served from seven am to eight am after morning devotional. Bible study from eight am to nine am, then you'll be attending the introduction workshop for the first two weeks for transitional residents from nine am to noon. Lunch at noon to one pm, free time is one pm to three pm; most residents take a nap or watch television in the common room if you like sports, don't try to change the channel it's the only one we get. Three pm to five pm you'll go to group meeting, five to six pm is second Bible study, six to seven pm is dinner, seven to eight is evening devotional, eight thirty pm is lights out. Got it? Any questions?"

"None," Loki replied dryly.

The woman eyed him again, and then motioned to the stairwell to her left. "Upstairs, third doorway to your right. You're in bed six, number's painted on the wall over it." She looked at Steve and then at the box he was carrying. "I need to inspect that for weapons or drugs."

"Oh, right -" Steve nodded and set the box down on the desk for her, waiting until she'd rooted through the sparse contents to pick it back up.

She gave Steve a once over as well. "Visitors are allowed weekdays between one and three pm. No weekend visitations."

"Thank you, ma'am," Steve said, and followed after Loki, who had already started for the stairs.

Both men paused at the bottom step when they got there, Loki giving the steep, narrow stairs ahead of him a hateful look.

Steve opened his mouth and started to hold his arm out to offer him help, but the other man's hand shot out to grip the lone railing to one side in a tight grip and he started the climb. Steve followed him, biting his own tongue to keep from saying anything as he watched him take each slow step with determination until they reached the landing above.

The room, when they reached it, was sparse, yellowing walls and nothing but two rows of beds along each side of the room and a small, squat nightstand containing two drawers beside each one. Loki limped over to the bed with a number six painted on the wall over the single pillow, and taking a seat the mattress sagged beneath him with a loud creak.

Steve set the box down on the bedside table and looked around the room, taking note of the scant belongings that were placed beside each bed. "... Looks like you've got roommates."

Loki nodded but said nothing, he eyes shifting toward the door when footsteps in the hall where growing louder. Four other men enter the room, all of them giving them both a look. One of the men, the shortest and stockiest of the group, paused by the door when he saw Loki and nodded, though his expression was far from friendly. "Heard we were getting another guy in here, what's your name, Gimp?"

Loki arched an eyebrow and rose, extending a slender hand in greeting though his faint smile was forced. "I am... James." Green eyes flicked toward Steve at the name, then back to the stocky man.

"Call me Digs." The man walked right past the outstretched hand and he flopped down on his own bed. "You meet Maria downstairs, Gimp? She's a real number. Don't get on her bad side. Anybody's for that matter."

"My name is not Gimp."

Digs shrugged. "Whatever."

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it, uncertain of what to say.

Loki looked at Steve again, then away. "I am certain you must have other things to attend to."

"- Is there anything else you need?" Steve asked uncertainly.

Loki shook his head and sat back down, glancing toward the other men, who had all clustered around a small, battery operated radio to listen to the news. "No."

Steve stuffed a hand inside his coat pocket and held out a slip of paper he'd written his number on. "If you need anything, you can call me."

The other man took it with a hesitant hand, glancing at the hand writing there, and then folded into his shirt pocket.

When another few moments of silence passed Steve cleared his throat and nodded toward the door. "I'll - I'll see you tomorrow?"

Loki nodded again. "Yes. Tomorrow, but not the day after. The weekend. No visitors."

Steve lingered for a moment, then exited the room, glancing back a final time at Loki, who was studying his own hands clasped in his lap, before he headed down the hall.

He paused at the stairs when he reached then and looked at them, frowning at the steep incline and the narrowness of each one. He felt a tightness in his chest when he remembered Loki's difficulty in ascending them, the stubborn determination he had taking each slow step, and when he tried to imagine how much longer going back down would prove for the other man, the sharp stab of guilt once again came over him with a vengeance.

Dr. Ira's words came back to him.

_You will look after him when he's out in the world again, won't you?_

Turning back the way he'd just come he returned to the room, Loki and the other men there looking up when he entered, and tucking the box of his belonging under his arm, he reached down and took Loki's hand with his own, urging him to stand. "Come on.."

Loki's lips quirked in a small frown of confusion. "What are you doing?"

"—The right thing." Steve gently tugged him toward the door. "We're going home."

"Home?"

"-Well, to my apartment. It's not fantastic but it's better than here."

"I don't understand…"

Steve shook his head. "I'm not leaving you in this place."

Loki stopped when they reached the stairs, his hand suddenly gripping Steve's tightly, and his voice hardly more than a whisper. "Why not?"

Steve hesitated, his eyes scanning the shelter hallway where the walls were also a yellowing color, then the stairwell, before he answered. "I just can't. " He paused, then added, less certainly, "Unless you – do you want to stay?"

Loki looked around them for a moment, his lips pressing in a firm line that Steve had to force himself not to stare at. At last he looked at him again, his gaze uncertain as he shook his head. "… No."

"Then that settles that. Wait here."

He went down the stairs and set the box down on the service desk, earning him a strange look from the woman at the service desk, Maria, then went back up the stairs, forcing himself to ignore the surge of his pulse when he slipped an arm around Loki's waist and helped him back down, holding him steady as they took each step with care.

Pausing to get the box he glanced at the Maria, who was frowning at them, her arms crossed. "You fellas want to tell me what's going on?"

Steve gave her an apologetic look. "You've got another vacancy again."

Loki offered her a tight smile and a small wave as they headed for the door, and once they were outside Steve went to the curb to hail them another cab.

When he glanced at the other man again, he was watching him with a cautious expression, uncertainty in his eyes.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Like I said… it's the right thing to do."

"I… would not wish to impose upon your home, Captain."

"It isn't and imposition." Steve hesitated, and then added, "Like I said, it's nothing fantastic, but it is better than this shelter, and once something better opens up, I can help you get settled there, but…" He trailed off as a taxi pulled up beside them, and opening the door he stepped back to let Loki climb in.

Loki hesitated as well, still watching him then moved to take a seat, his fingertips brushing against Steve's when he placed a hand against the door to steady himself. Steve's breath caught in his throat again at the light sensation, and then he closed the door.

* * *

The stairs up to Steve's apartment were less treacherous than the shelter's had been, wide and nowhere near as steep, but he still lingered at Loki's side as they went up, the other man's hand placed against his arm for support. When they reached the door Steve moved to unlock it, and then stepped aside to let Loki enter first.

He closed the door behind them and switched on the lights, then set the box down on the coffee table, moving around the room to tidy up the stray newspaper he'd left on the sofa, the gym bag from training, all the various items he usually left around.

"Sorry, I don't have company over very oft- well… ever."

Loki was watching him silently, lingering near the door still until Steve motioned for him to take a seat, and when he did, they both simply stared at one another for a moment, then away, Steve's stomach churning while Loki glanced around the room, first at the coffee table and the stacks of sketchbooks and books on art, then at the few photographs on the walls.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Steve offered after another moment, and Loki glanced at him again, his expression once again giving way to confusion.

"No, I… thank you, but no."

"Well… just let me know if you do. I'll go get some clean sheets and blankets out, get the bedroom ready for you." Loki gave him a strange look at those words, and he added, hurriedly, struggling to keep himself from blushing, "You're a guest, so I'll take the sofa."

Steve left and went into the bedroom and set to changing the bedding, glad for the distraction while he tried to sort his own head out. Bringing Loki back had been the last thing he'd meant to do, when being around him made him feel and think things he shouldn't and certainly didn't intend to; but leaving him at the shelter would have plagued him with guilt, and of the two emotions, he grudgingly admitted to himself, he would rather deal with feelings of confusion and inexplicably attraction that he knew were not something he should act on, than with guilt and the knowledge that he hadn't done what was right.

When he went back out to the living room Loki had picked up one of the sketchbooks and was browsing through it, and he glanced at Steve, smiling faintly. "More of your work?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Most of those are from a couple of years ago. I did a lot of drawing right after I was pulled out of the ice, after we fought you three years ago."

"Mmm." Loki turned a page and lingered a moment over a detailed sketch Steve had done in Central Park Zoo of a snow leopard.

"Do you have any hobbies? Activities you enjoy, aside from reading?"

Loki closed the sketch book and shook his head. "Before, I would have said magic, but as that is no longer a skill I am able to call…"

"Oh, sorry." Steve grimaced. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know," Loki interrupted, glancing up at him. "I know you did not mean offence by the inquiry. It is not in your nature to act in that manner."

Another span of silence fell between then, and Steve moved to open the window shade and let some more light into the room, casting about for another topic of conversation, but Loki spoke again before he could think of one.

"… It is quite good." The other man motioned to the sketch books. "Your work. "

Steve smiled almost in spite of himself, ducking his head a bit at the praise. "Thanks."

"I must confess to a little jealousy," Loki continued, "In Asgard the finer arts, drawing, music, dance… those were pursuits for the fairer sex and not fit for men to learn beyond the rudimentary, and certainly not beyond a very young age. As it was, my tendency toward books and magic were already frowned upon."

Steve took a seat next to him, perplexed. "Why would anyone frown on reading?"

"It was the nature of what I read and the frequency of it," Loki explained. "Thor was never criticized for reading texts of great battles, and he read only when it was required, never for pleasure. I read upon whatever I was keen to learn of, I read for my enjoyment."

"You can read whatever you want to, I promise, I won't make fun of you for it," Steve said, and he felt a small surge of warmth when Loki regarded him with a grateful look and another small smile.

"Thank you," Loki glanced around the apartment again, gesturing to their surroundings. "For your understanding, as well as your hospitality. Both are… unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome."

"It's not spacious, but like I said, it'll be better than the shelter. I don't have a lot of food in the cupboards or the fridge, and I have a meeting I need to go to in a few hours, but I'll get some groceries later this evening on my way back," Steve said, "You still have that information from the nutritionist so I can take it with me when I go?"

Loki nodded, frowning a little. "Yes, but I… you needn't purchase anything on my account."

"I'm not going to let you starve while you're staying here," Steve countered, then added, a little tentatively, "You're a guest, and – and we're friends, remember?"

Loki glanced at him again, and though he didn't answer, the minute nod he gave in response gave Steve hope that he was, at least a little, making headway in the right direction with the other man, in spite of his own confused emotions.


End file.

Avengers, Drama, Romance