Archive of Our Own

I should’ve stayed home.

That was the first thought that came to Tony – before he knew where he was, before he remembered what happened, even before he had fully gained consciousness. It wasn’t, to be fair, a fully-formed thought, at first – just a vague sense of foreboding, a kind of self-imposed See, you never even listen to yourself, do you? This was not an unusual thought process for Tony Stark, and in and of itself, it was not necessarily a sign that things had gotten any more out of hand than the usual.

Gradually, though, as further awareness began to creep in, there were other, more undeniable signs that perhaps things were a bit worse off than the norm. Things like the smell of scorched earth and ash, or the overpowering silence. The sharp pain twisting in his chest. And, of course, the darkness – the oppressing, inescapable darkness. Even the dusting of light glowing feebly from the center of his chest seemed only to permeate the air an inch or two from its source, somehow making the rest of the blackness seem more suffocating, not less.

There was a dread-filled familiarity about all of it – something about the stale air, the muffling silence, the way the darkness seemed to press in on him from all sides. Something, too, about the pain in his chest, the dull throbbing ache that sharpened to a momentary knifepoint of agony with each heartbeat, that was stirring memories he’d done his best to push far away. Because he knew these sensations, knew what they meant.

Underground. Buried. Trapped.

I’m back in the cave, he found himself thinking wildly. He reached out, trying to find purchase on the shifting rocks beneath his hands so that he could push himself up, ignoring the way the sharp pain in his chest flared into an agonizing burn. All he could think about was finding his way up, finding his way out. Back in the cave, back as a prisoner, being buried alive where no one will ever find me –

“Stark. Stark!”

Tony wasn’t aware he had been muttering his panicked thoughts aloud until the sound of his own name being insistently repeated broke through his awareness. He froze, then shifted, trying to regain his bearings, only to jolt when he felt a sudden iron grip land on his shoulder.

“Hey –” Tony sputtered, and began to wildly and blindly punch at the shifting shadow in front of him, ignoring the burst of fire in his chest that flared with every swing. He felt a fist connect solidly with flesh and had the satisfaction of hearing a muffled grunt of pain, the pressure on his shoulder falling away –

And then everything around him blazed with light.

Squeezing his eyes closed, Tony waited a few counts, then began to blink hard as his eyes struggled to adjust. As the white blaze began to dim to a more manageable flicker, he was able to take in the figure crouched in front of him, glaring at Tony from between the fingers of the hand he’d raised to cradle his nose.

“Glad to see you’re still with us, Stark,” muttered Loki. Gingerly, he lowered his hand from his face, wincing as he continued to occasionally prod at his nose. His face was pale and drawn and covered with a variety of slashes and scrapes, though his nose was disappointingly unbloodied. “Mostly glad.”

“What –” Tony barely heard him. His chest felt like it was in a vise. He darted his gaze around his surroundings, but now that his eyes were adjusting to the second light source, there wasn’t much to make out but shadowy corners of concrete and rubble. “What happened? Where – where are we?”

“You don’t know?” Loki shifted then, and Tony saw, with a start, that the candle-like glow of light was coming from Loki’s other hand, a soft glow cupped in his palm that beamed out softly into the darkness. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“We – we were in the Quinjet,” Tony began, hating how weak his voice sounded. “Big mission. High stakes. Y’know, typical Tuesday.” He coughed, then winced at the flare of pain the motion sent through his chest. “Except for the part where you were volunteering to come along to help. That was new, that was –”

Loki gave a little nod, apparently ignoring the gibe. Admittedly it wasn’t much of a zing; Tony had to concede that he wasn’t feeling entirely 100%. “Do you remember who we were on our way to stop?” Loki asked.

“Ahhh. Hmm. Yes. Right.” Tony mentally began filing through the last few foes he could remember. “Evil scientist? Robot army? Weird undercover HYDRA thing? Wait –” He started to sit up, feeling it slipping back to him, but a sensation like a hot brand being pressed against his chest slammed into him before he was halfway up. He didn’t have enough breath to manage a scream, but the wheezing whine that slipped out summed up how he was feeling pretty well.

“Easy, Stark.” Loki shifted again, his free hand – the one not cradling his palmful of light – coming up to press Tony’s shoulder firmly down. “Try to hold still.”

“It – it was the robot army one,” Tony coughed. “Sentient AI. Probably alien – unless it was Apple. They’re always getting overly pushy with the new iPhone releases. Shades of Ultron all over again. Don’t worry if you don’t get that reference,” he added, still coughing. “Before your time.”

It was starting to come back to him now. The appearance of a strange energy signature coming from the outskirts of the city. The Avengers suiting up, arguing about who should go investigate, who was most qualified – who could be trusted. The two of them arriving to find out the source of the signal was coming from a God-damned abandoned parking garage - What kind of self-respecting sentient AI sets up shop in an abandoned parking garage? Making their way in, keeping to the shadows, Loki doing some of his mystic Asgardian hokum to sneak them past sensors and sentries. And then …

All hell breaking loose. Drones attacking them from every which side. Tony finding himself fighting back-to-back with Loki, without really thinking about it, without having time to think. Repulsor-blasting and magic-shielding and trying to fight their way through to the source of whatever ship or systems or crazy supervillain was at the center controlling these things – only to work out that the swarm was its own hive-mind, working together to run as one entity, and the only way to bring them down was to stop each and every one of the damn things. Getting hit with energy pulses hard enough to break bone; human bone, at least. Making a little headway through the onslaught – only to see a swarm of drones rising above the melee, heading towards the skies, towards the city, and if they started doing whatever it was they were apparently hell-bent on doing, there might not be any way to contain them without –

“Wait.” He reached up a hand, grabbing at Loki’s wrist without much thinking about it. “Did we stop ‘em? The ‘bots?”

“Given what a miracle it was that we survived, the odds that anything else survived a fatal crushing as well seem minuscule at best. Though you never know.” Loki allowed Tony to keep his grip on the other’s forearm for another few moments, then delicately extricated his wrist from Tony’s grasp. “But I suggest we focus our attention and efforts on keeping calm until rescue arrives.”

Tony took in a ragged breath, and then another, digesting this. His eyes were trying to dart around to take in their surroundings again, try to see exactly how close the collapsed ceiling was to them, how much rubble might be poised above them on a knife’s-breath of support, how much time they had left before –

He shoved the thoughts away. This was nothing like the cave. Well, okay, yes, the feeling of being trapped and buried alive was very much like the cave – but the rest of it, that was different. The rest of the Avengers would know what had happened. Hell, the whole city would know what had happened. Someone would be on their way soon to do something, to dig them back out, to keep them from suffocating under the weight of tons of concrete and steel and rock and –

“Stark,” said Loki sharply, and Tony jerked slightly, his chest flaring again. “Whatever void you’re letting yourself fall into? Try to resist the pull. It – it would be best if you kept calm.” For the first time, Loki looked vaguely uncertain.

Tony studied his expression for a moment, then let his head sink back with a groan. Something soft and pillowy was on the ground, cradling his neck, though he didn’t quite have the energy to puzzle out what it could possibly be. “How bad is it?”

Loki’s face immediately went blank. “How bad is what?” he asked, so innocently his expression was bordering on the imbecilic, and Tony found himself snorting in spite of himself. Mr. Reformed-God-of-Lies himself, and this was the best he could manage?

“How bad,” said Tony, grimacing and shifting again, trying to ease the throb in his chest, “is whatever it is you’re not telling me?”

Loki sighed, and seemed to deflate slightly. “Your arc reactor was damaged in the collapse.”

“Wonderful.” Tony gritted his teeth, trying to pull himself a bit more upright. “That would explain how great I feel.” Then he frowned. “Should be feeling a lot worse, though. Should be – not to put too fine a point on things – kinda dying.”

“I was able to … cobble together a temporary fix,” said Loki, in a slightly careful voice that had Tony narrowing his eyes. “It won’t last forever, I’m afraid – but hopefully it’ll keep you in one piece until help arrives.”

“Right. Okay. Ah – suppose I should thank you for that. So, y’know: thanks for that.” Tony coughed again, then did his best to manage a full breath against the vise-like grip of pain banded around his chest. Loki was watching him, but for the first time, Tony saw that the he was pressing his free hand – the one not holding his palmful of light – against the side of his ribs.

Tony waited until he had enough breath to manage the words. “You – you okay?”

“And I was just starting to think you’d never ask.” Loki flashed him a tired grin. “I’m fine, Stark.”

“B-bullshit,” Tony panted, and Loki snorted.

“I’ve a few bruises and bumps, to be sure – but I’ve certainly had worse.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “Look to your own injuries, my friend.”

Silence fell then, punctuated only by the sound of Tony’s own ragged breathing.

It was not a comforting sound.

“I blame you for this, you know,” said Tony suddenly.

He’d said it mostly to undercut the suffocating stillness, and so had said aloud the first thought that had wandered through his head. He was unprepared, therefore, for the look of smarmy amusement that flickered across Loki’s pale, ash-smudged face.

“As I recall,” said Loki, voice filled with the same amusement as his eyes, “it was your poor aim that ricocheted your repuslor blast off the last standing support beam –”

“Ah, excuse me? First of all,” and Tony shifted, raising a hand that was only slightly trembling in order to count off the points on his fingers, “That was not 'poor aim.' That was me engaging in a, er, a strategic ... strategy, to take out the threat.”

“So, it was your intent to collapse a building upon us?”

“I mean, it worked, didn’t it? Probably,” he amended after a moment. “And anyway, second of all: I didn’t mean the whole cave-in thing. I meant that it’s your fault that I decided to come on this stupid mission in the first place.”

“Oh, that? Please. I’d figured that one out before we even began.” Loki sniffed, then raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I’m well aware you came along on this mission to serve as my keeper. No one better suited to keep an eye on a reformed war criminal than a reformed war criminal – or something like that.”

“Actually –”

“I don’t take it personally, you know.” Loki’s face shifted into a genuine smile, so unexpected that Tony fell silent, blinking back his surprise. “I wouldn’t trust me so quickly, either. I’ve only been with the Avengers now for, what – six months? It’s perfectly logical – not to mention understandable.”

“Hey, now,” Tony protested, feeling his discomfort increase. “You really don’t –”

“The only thing that surprises me,” Loki went on, with a feigned casualness that Tony was quite sure was meant to suggest that the thought had only just occurred to him, “is that my brother didn’t insist on coming along as my minder. He used to be first in line to volunteer for such duties. Someone had to make certain my mischief and trickery didn’t bring dishonor upon the entire realm.”

“Point of fact,” said Tony, shifting against the cushion behind his head, “your big bro insisted somebody else come along. Said you’d already proved yourself to him, far as he was concerned. Said it was time the rest of us start giving you a chance and coming on board with the whole part-of-the-team thing.”

Loki’s expression didn’t change, exactly, but Tony could see a flicker of emotions move lightning-quick through his eyes – surprise, gratitude, and a naked vulnerability that took Tony by surprise. “Well,” Loki said after a moment, clearing his throat, “We may die from our own ineptitude at failing to take out a perfectly manageable threat – but at least I found out I have my brother’s approval first. Wonderful.” Tony knew he meant the last to come out as exasperated sarcasm, but the effect was undercut by the faint glow of pride and affection that was suffusing his eyes.

Well. Who knew ol’ Blue-Man-Group here would have such a sentimental side. Tony turned his head slightly to hide the smile tugging at one corner of his mouth – and saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Loki was shifting uncomfortably where he was crouched in the rubble. And Tony didn’t miss the way Loki’s face tightened in an expression undeniably of pain, his hand against his ribs suddenly clenching in an apparent spasm.

How badly hurt are you, Lokes? Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again with an almost audible snap. Asking directly would get him nowhere. He hesitated, then found his gaze being drawn to the flickering glow of light cupped in Loki’s palm.

“How do you do that?” asked Tony. When Loki looked up at him, Tony nodded his chin towards the palmful of light.

Loki cocked his head. “The light?”

“All of it. The light, the illusions, the pulling-stuff-out-of-the-air thing. That one’s my favorite,” Tony added almost without thinking about it. “Don’t suppose you could conjure up any snacks while we’re waiting? I could really go for some chocolate-covered espresso beans right about now.”

“I’m afraid not. Although, now that I know we might end a mission by being trapped under a building, I’ll be sure to stock up in future for such occasions.” Loki suddenly inhaled sharply, and Tony saw his hand tighten against his ribs again.

“… neither of us are doing too hot, are we?” asked Tony softly.

Loki looked at him, lines of pain carving into his face. “Not really, no.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony grunted, trying to shift position again, “That just means our rescuers better get a move-on. They oughtta dial up Banner; it couldn’t possibly take the Big Guy that long to shift a few tons of concrete around, amiright?”

“Would that we not find out,” said Loki with a mock shutter. “But to answer your question: my magic is the result of spellcast.” He wiggled his fingers slightly, making his palmful of light begin to dance, and then beamed tiredly at Tony, as if this explained everything.

“… right.” Tony waited, and then, when Loki remained silent, he raised a slightly-shaking hand to make a little go-on gesture. “You care to expound on that? It’s not like either of us is going anywhere.”

Loki gave a little nod, then appeared to mull the question over for a moment, apparently pleased to have something else to occupy his mind. Tony waited, shifting uncomfortably against the rubble, trying to find a position that would ease the knifelike pain radiating in his chest – though any way he turned seemed to have little effect.

“The best way I can think to describe it, for you,” said Loki, and Tony tried not to read any condescension into the slight emphasis Loki put on the last two words, “is a harnessing of energy. Those who practice magic differ in the tools they might use to harness that energy – visualization, calculations, storytelling – but the end result is the same.” Loki twisted his hand slightly, and the light above his palm momentarily shifted shape, forming into a greenly-glowing arc reactor. “It is not, I suppose, all that different from being a conductor of electricity.”

“Is that how you knew how to patch me up?” Tony waved a hand towards the center of his chest, where the arc reactor was glowing unsteadily but determinedly. “Because you’re a, what … a magical engineer?”

“… something like that,” said Loki, with a flicker of something Tony couldn’t quite place. Tony narrowed his eyes, studying Loki as closely as he dared – and then noticed for the first time that Loki was no longer wearing his cape.

“Hey, what happened to your –” Tony began, and then suddenly became aware of the soft cushion behind his head once again.

… welp. I’ll be damned, he thought, trying not to smile. Loki looked at him curiously.

“What was that, Stark?”

“Forget it. Not important.” Tony leaned his head back against the pillowed cape behind him and found himself staring into the darkness surrounding them. The light shining in Loki’s palm was flickering with the same unsteadiness as the arc reactor in Tony’s chest, though both sources of light seemed only to highlight how much darkness truly surrounded them. “You ever been buried alive before?”

If the question surprised Loki, he gave no sign of it. “There’s a first time for everything.” He cocked his head to one side, looking thoughtful. “I did once fall into a wormhole threaded between time and space.”

Tony blinked. “Was that – er. Was it like this, somehow?”

“The darkness is not entirely dissimilar.” Maybe it was the trick of the light, but Loki looked suddenly wearier – the lines of his face deepening, the dark bruises under his eyes seeming to intensify. Then he met Tony’s gaze and gave him a tired smile. “Though I find it less distressing when there’s company.”

“I know what you mean.” Tony took a shaky breath, trying to dispel the sensations of crushing walls and consuming darkness. “Last time I was trapped under a few tons of rock – your brother ever tell you about that? – I had this friend. Yinsen. He’d been there awhile. He kinda took me under his wing, helped me figure out how to escape. Kinda did a lot more than that. Saved my life, actually. In more ways than one.”

“You are referring to the events that led to you adopting the moniker of Iron Man,” said Loki after a moment, pulling Tony at least partially away from his spiraling thoughts. “Your – how did Banner refer to it? – your ‘origin story’.”

“Something like that, yeah.” Loki was still watching him, and so Tony pressed on. “I still had a long way to go after I got out of that cave, don’t get me wrong. But – I’d started something. Something I couldn’t go back on. A change. A … a new way of doing things. A new way of being.”

He’d wanted to say more, but suddenly the ache in his chest was flaring into a kind of white-hot dagger of pain that made breathing an agony and talking an impossibility. He pressed a hand to his chest, his other hand digging at the loose rocks at his side, trying to brace himself against the attack. His breath was coming in ragged gasps in his chest, and his vision was beginning to tunnel, going dark around the edges, as if –

No. Not his vision. He blinked hard, even through the pain, and saw that Loki was leaning heavily on one arm braced against the ground, his other hand still raising the palmful of light – a light that was flickering in a panicked thrashing that put Tony in mind of a convulsing firefly. Tony felt his heart lurching unsteadily in his chest, each knifelike beat in time to the stumbling flares of light in Loki’s hand.

With a sudden, harsh flicker, the light went out completely – and then, just as suddenly, blazed forth again. Tony gasped, finally forcing in a complete lungful of air, and instantly began to cough as his heart began to settle uncertainly into a thready rhythm that left him lightheaded.

When he had managed three harsh breaths in a row without choking, he looked over at Loki. The other man was breathing hard, sweat beading his brow, and raised a shaking hand to swipe at the thin line of blood that was trickling from his nose.

“It’s – it’s you. Isn’t it?” Tony panted. Loki looked over at him. “It’s just you. You didn’t … didn’t patch me up with any cosmic Asgardian doodads. You’re just … using your magic to power the arc reactor. Aren’t you?”

Loki looked down. “I – couldn’t quite figure out what else to do. Couldn’t think of any other way to –”

“H-hey,” Tony coughed. He waited until Loki looked up to meet his gaze again. “That wasn’t a complaint. Any way you wanna keep all that embedded shrapnel from … from burrowing its way into my heart before help arrives? I’m not gonna complain. I actually really – really appreciate it.” Loki’s eyes were darting away. “Look, Mr. Green Jeans, this is easily in your … in your Top Five Most Heroic Moments. Selflessly saving a co-worker’s life and all that. You wanna tell me … why you seem so outta sorts about it?”

“Because …” Loki trailed off, grimacing, his hand pressing hard against his ribs. For the first time, Tony could make out a faint but growing patch of darkness spreading into the leather armor beneath Loki's clenched hand. How much blood had he lost, that it had managed to soak through into his armor?

“… because it’s costing you,” said Tony quietly. “To keep expending the magic. Expending the energy.”

“It usually doesn’t,” said Loki heavily. “Magic generally doesn’t require any particular physical effort. It is, in fact, often more mentally fatiguing than anything else – especially when it comes to casting illusions or summoning daggers. But I confess that expending pure energy to power something so complex is a bit more taxing than most spells, especially given my current state.” He gestured towards his ribs, then winced sharply as he half doubled over, the light in his palm flickering again. Tony felt another stab of pain flare across his chest in response.

“How long can you keep this up?” asked Tony.

Loki took a breath, then straightened slowly, his gaze flickering across their dim surroundings. “It’s a bit difficult to gauge how long we’ve been here, but I suspect rescue surely cannot be that far from us. An hour or two longer at most –”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Tony coughed. “How long can you keep … keep channeling energy into the arc reactor before it drains you out?”

“A sensible man such as yourself should be focusing your attention upon the much larger question of how many internal injuries you may have sustained, let alone –”

“Loki.” It was the first time since starting the trip that Tony had called Loki by name, and it shut him up as completely as if Tony had reached out and slapped him. “How long?”

“… probably not long enough,” said Loki softly.

Silence descended once more. Tony strained his ears, listening, and for a moment he thought he heard the distant din of rescuers, shifting rocks and concrete in the search – but no, it was probably just his own heartbeat, thudding woozily in his ears.

“You could stop,” said Tony. Loki turned his head to look at him. “Stop powering the arc reactor. No sense in both of us buying the farm on the same day, not … not if there’s a chance one of us could make it out.”

He was being serious, and sincere – and yet damn the trickster if he wasn’t quirking an eyebrow at Tony, one corner of his mouth lifting in a sort of amusement. “‘Buying the farm’?”

“Y’know. Croak. Kick the bucket. Take a dirt nap. Cash in the chips.” Tony tried to cough, but was having trouble gasping enough air into his lungs to manage more than a breathy whisper. “Don’t – don’t you people have colloquialisms in Asgard?”

“Asgardians are a warrior race, always eager to face Death head-on in the heat of battle. There are few niceties made to soften the reality of it, let alone twee idioms.” Loki grinned at him faintly for a moment, but then the smirk faded. “And no Asgardian would leave a comrade-in-arms behind to die alone – let alone merely to spare their own life.”

“You’re – using up too much energy.” Tony’s breath came in wheezes. “You could save your strength – keep yourself alive until –”

“And you are using up energy arguing the point, Stark.” Loki smiled at him, the look so surprisingly earnest it put Tony momentarily in mind of Thor. “We either make it out of this together, or not at all. And that’s the end of it.”

So saying, Loki settled himself back to lean against the chunk of fallen concrete behind him, as if to put the final word to their argument – but Tony could see Loki’s trembling shoulders, the exhaustion lining his face, and knew the truth was much simpler than that: Loki was running out of enough strength to hold himself upright.

For awhile, there was only silence, each of them focused on struggling through various stuttering breaths and hazes of pain.

But given who they both were, it was only a matter of time before the silence was broken, wasn’t it?

And Tony had something he wanted the other man to know.

“That wasn’t … why I came with you, you know,” said Tony suddenly. “What – what you said … before. Needing a baby-sitter and all that.”

“Talking expends energy, Stark. Maybe now’s not the time for witty repartee.” Loki’s face was drawn and hollowed, his head leaning back tiredly against the concrete slab – but the look he shot Tony was still faintly exasperated.

“What – what can I say? Talking’s kind of my thing. Figure you can relate.” Tony arched an eyebrow, and Loki sighed, then gave an acquiescing nod in apparent defeat. “Good. Because I want you to know … the real reason I came with you.”

Loki shifted slightly. “There’s no need –”

“The longer I have to spend arguing with you first … the more energy we both waste, yeah?” Tony threw him a I’m-just-trying-to-be-logical look, and Loki snorted softly, then fell silent. “Right. Well. Look, Reindeer Games – you’ve worked hard the last six months. Answered our questions, told us the truth – far as we can tell – and done every single thing we asked you to do. Followed rules. Respected boundaries. I imagine that’s not so much your thing, generally.” One corner of Loki’s month twitched in the beginnings of a smile – but he remained silent, his eyes on Tony intent, almost probing.

My God, he’s really listening to me. “There was … some disagreement,” said Tony, pausing to draw a breath against the growing tightness in his chest. “Whether or not you were ready … for a mission like this. Some of the team wasn’t – wasn’t so sure –”

“Rogers,” said Loki, and Tony chuckled, the sound quickly turning into a cough.

“Not my place to name names, but … I have to admit that’s not such a bad guess.” Tony coughed again. “Don’t know that I can fault him … for not entirely understanding. He’s always stayed … on one side of the line.

“But me?” Tony continued, still watching Loki’s face. It was getting harder to make out the other’s features, though whether that was from the magical light losing strength or Tony’s own eyesight dimming, he would’ve been hard-pressed to guess. He thought about asking Loki if the light was going, but he didn’t suppose the answer made much of a difference – and he wanted to save his breath for more important things. “I know what it’s like … to do the wrong thing. To bulldoze your way through your problems, and … and burn it all down to try to get to the other side. And I know what it’s like … to decide to stop burning. And … to try to choose something else. To be something else.”

“To be more,” said Loki softly. Tony looked at him, and Loki gave a little shrug, belaying the earnestness in his eyes. “Something my brother said to me once.”

“Way I remember him telling it … that was a lesson he had to learn, too.” Tony took a shallow breath, trying to ward off the next coughing spell. “My point is – you earned this chance. You earned the chance to … to, yeah, be more. And I wanted to make sure … you got that chance.”

Silence for a long moment, and then –

“So me being here – trapped under a pile of collapsed rubble …” Loki arched a tired eyebrow. “It really is all your fault.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment – and then began to laugh. He barely had the breath for it, each wheezed breath clenching in his chest like it was being forced through a vise, but somehow he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. After a moment, Loki began quietly chuckling, and soon they were both alternating between laughing and coughing, Loki leaning back against the concrete and clutching his side, Tony digging his hands into the dirt while tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

“Well,” said Loki at last, when they had both managed to calm somewhat, “For what it’s worth, Stark – I appreciate the chance.” He tilted his head to look at Tony, and his eyes were filled with an emotion Tony couldn’t quite name. “Truly.”

Laughing seemed to have used up what little breath he had left, and so Tony settled for a weak thumb’s-up, letting his head collapse back against the pillowed cape behind him. Then he seemed to be drifting in a sort of haze, darkness clawing at the edges of his tunneling vision, the occasional sound of Loki’s tired voice growing muffled and faraway. And then there was something else, distant sounds of scrapes and thuds and shouts, though he couldn’t really focus on any of it. It didn’t seem all that important, really, and when he thought he heard different voices calling his name, it was just before the full force of the darkness came to claim him entirely.

Bruce told him later – while Tony was sitting in the medbay of Avengers Tower, covered in bandages and IVs and monitoring equipment and, most importantly of all, with a shiny new arc reactor in his chest – that they’d more or less found them just in the nick of time.

“We didn’t understand what was going on at first, honestly,” said Bruce, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Loki was pretty well out of it – just kept muttering about your arc reactor. It took us half the trip back to the Tower to work out he was the one still powering it. Of course,” Bruce added hesitantly, “it was easier to work out when he lost consciousness and your whole system kinda shut down.”

“Yeah, that’s – very reassuring.” Tony raised an eyebrow. “How many Ph.D.’s did you say you’ve got again, buddy?”

“Hey, none of them are from Hogwarts, all right? I can’t say I was thinking ‘magic’ when I was trying to figure out that weird green light comin’ out of this thing.” Bruce hefted the item in question in one hand. “It’s amazing he was able to do what he did. Guy’s got quite the power level behind all that polite-sass routine. Glad he’s on our side now.”

Bruce proffered the damaged arc reactor to Tony. Tony took it, wincing slightly as he saw the jagged crack across the casing, the reactor itself cloudy and blackened. He ran his fingers along the edge of the crack, then jumped when the core suddenly sparked with a flare of green light.

“What was that?” Tony asked, more amazed than alarmed.

“It keeps doing that,” said Bruce. “We don’t know why. Loki’s magic shouldn’t be powering it any longer, so we’re not sure what’s going on.”

“Yeah, well, why not ask the magician in question?” Tony looked up from the damaged arc reactor, only to see that Bruce looked suddenly awkward. “What?”

“He’s … not quite. Er. Conscious yet,” said Bruce. “His prognosis is good!” he added hastily, when Tony began gathering himself to haul out of the bed. “But he sustained a pretty substantial injury, even for a magic space alien – and from what we can tell …” he trailed off.

“What?” asked Tony, more sharply than he intended.

“Powering the arc reactor took a lot out of him.” After a moment, Bruce brightened slightly. “But, hey: his injury’s healing, and his vitals are good. His brother even seems to think this is normal – the not-waking-up thing. Says it’s not the first time Loki’s been down for the count for awhile after he really goes all-in with the magic-using. And if Thor doesn’t seem worried – well, if he doesn’t seem overly worried – I think that’s a good sign.”

Tony frowned, but allowed Bruce to gently push him by the shoulders to leverage him back against the pillows. He suddenly remembered waking up to Loki’s cape pillowed behind his head and had to suppress a smile. “All right. Well – keep me posted on how he’s doing, all right?” Tony looked down at the arc reactor in his hands, and watched as another swirl of green light played across its cloudy surface. “I think I owe him a visit.”

It was another two days before Bruce deemed Loki ready for visitors who were not Thor, in which time Tony was more or less back to his old self. Loki, for his part, had yet to wake up, though Bruce seemed to think it would be any time now.

Our God of Mischief looks surprisingly peaceful when he’s asleep, Tony mused to himself. Or maybe it’s just because he’s finally not talking for once.

He chuckled softly at that, recognizing the irony of cracking wise about anyone else being talkative. To his surprise, the sound seemed to cause Loki to stir, and a few moments later, Loki was blinking woozily, squinting out at the world through eyelids still bruised with exhaustion.

“Feeling better?” asked Tony softly.

Loki turned his head, a flicker of surprise moving through his features as he took in Tony sitting in the chair beside his medbay bed. No doubt he’d expected to see his brother sitting beside him, instead – and, indeed, it had taken more than a little pestering on Tony’s part to get Thor to agree to take a break and let Tony keep vigil instead.

Loki tried to say something, but his voice came out in an awkward croak. Tony hastily reached for the water glass on the bedside table, then hesitated for the briefest of moments before setting the glass down and reaching out to help Loki maneuver into a more upright position, raising the head of the bed and adjusting the pillows behind him. When that was done, Tony picked up the glass again, and then – ignoring Loki’s feebly cracking protests – wrapped Loki’s hands around the glass, then kept one hand on the other’s wrist to help steady him as Loki raised the glass to drink.

“ – thank you,” rasped Loki, when he’d drank his fill and sank back against the pillows. He looked more alert now, and even a touch wary – a sensation Tony understood all too well. Helplessness was not a feeling he’d ever overly enjoyed himself – particularly in front of other people.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Tony, setting the glass back down on the table. “Matter of fact, if anybody should be thanking anybody right now, it should be me thanking you. You saved my life there, buddy.”

The discomfort on Loki’s face visibly intensified. “Stark, there’s no need –”

“No, look, I’m not gonna make a whole big thing about it. Just – I wanted to say it once.” Tony looked him in the eye, mustering every bit of earnestness he could manage. “Thank you.”

“… you’re welcome,” said Loki after a moment, his voice soft. For a moment, they just sat there, considering.

“Pepper and Rhodey were pretty appreciative of it, too. Although,” he added with a grin, “Pepper was pretty pissed about us getting into a situation like that in the first place.”

Loki shifted uncomfortably, “Do offer the Lady Potts my apologies for –”

“Oh, she wasn’t pissed at you,” said Tony. “She was pissed at me. Seemed to think that blowing out a concrete support beam on the bottom floor of an abandoned twelve-level parking garage wasn’t the best way to handle the situation. Made it pretty clear I should maybe try to come up with less fatal solutions in future – especially when it’s a teammate’s very first official mission and all that. Said I was lucky I didn’t get you killed your first time out.”

One corner of Loki’s mouth was quirking into a bemused smile. “Tell her it’s quite all right. It was hardly my first risky scenario. Thor’s gotten me into far worse situations. This one doesn’t even crack the top ten.”

“Yeah.” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Your brother. You would never have anything to do with those poorly-thought-out plans, of course.”

“Yes, well.” The smile was tugging at both sides of Loki’s mouth now. “We’ve all had our share of crazy ideas, Stark.”

“Mmm. Speaking of –” Tony held up the broken arc reactor, and watched as a spark of green light flashed across the core. “Whatever you did to keep powering this thing, it hasn’t let up. It isn’t still running off your own energy, is it?”

“No.” Frowning, Loki held out a hand. Tony placed the arc reactor gently into his palm, then watched as Loki carefully manipulated the device between faintly trembling hands. “My connection to it has been severed.”

“And yet that’s your magic,” said Tony, even as another ripple of light shimmered around the casing. “Isn’t it?”

“Or the residue of it, yes.” Loki turned the reactor gently between his palms. “I believe the energy I fed into the device has altered the nature of the reactor’s dead core. It’s created something new.”

Tony stared at him. “You mean like a new element?”

“I suppose you mortals could call it that. Although it’s not really so much a new element as it is a new state of an existing one. But I don’t expect it will last long. The – what does Banner call it? – the ‘half-life’ of magical elements tend to be short-lived.” Loki gave a little shrug, then made to hand the green-glinting arc reactor back to Tony. “If you wish to study it, I suggest you and Banner get a move-on.”

But Tony kept his arms folded loosely over his chest. “Actually, that’s for you.”

Loki blinked. “What?”

“Think of it as a souvenir. Memento of your first official mission as an Avenger. Of your first official mission after, y’know.” Tony settled back against the chair, letting his head tip back idly. “After a change of heart.”

Something flickered in Loki’s eyes. He looked at Tony, started to speak, then stopped, looking down at the arc reactor in his hands once more. Cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” he said.

He kept his eyes on at the arc reactor in his lap, running his fingers over the green shimmer flashing along the casing. Tony watched him, his mind flashing back to the little glass case he kept on the work table of the garage.

Proof that Tony Stark has a Heart

Progress wasn’t a one-time decision. Tony knew that better than most. Progress was a journey, and it involved tripping and falling and sliding back down, and having to decide, again and again, to pick yourself up and keep going. But the important thing – maybe the most important thing – was remembering that, when you did slip and fall and stumble to your feet again, it didn’t mean you had to start from Square One. Because every step you took – even the stumbling ones – were part of the journey. And you never went back to the person you were when you started.

And it was good to have something to remind you of that.

“You ought to get some rest,” said Tony then, beginning to climb to his still-slightly-unsteady feet. “Get recharged, back to fit fighting condition. Never know when we might need you for the next mission.”

“Of course,” said Loki softly, and Tony saw that his eyelids were already drooping, his head tipping back against the pillows behind him.

“Your brother should be back soon,” said Tony, but Loki was already drowsing, his hand still closed gently around the broken arc reactor at his side. Tony watched him a moment longer, smiling faintly almost in spite of himself, then headed for the door.

When he glanced back, it was to see the arc reactor glowing with its soft green light beneath Loki’s palm.

When Tony got back home that night, he called Rhodey, made dinner with Pepper, and then headed downstairs to the shop. He’d been tinkering with the latest suit for a good twenty minutes before he had to stop to hunt for his soldering iron, and that’s when he saw it – the little bag nestled next to the glass case holding his original arc reactor.

Frowning, Tony reached over and plucked up the bag. A tag dangled from the twine tied around its top:

Stark. For our next adventure.

Pulling at the string, Tony opened the bag, then tipped the contents into his palm.

Chocolate-covered espresso beans.

Tony chuckled, one corner of his mouth quirking in unmistakable fondness.

Looked like the Avengers officially had a new teammate.

He tipped the handful of candy into his mouth, then went back to work.