Chapter Text
"If only we knew the things we know"
-Tall Heights "Spirit Cold"
Seven
“You had bagels with a supervillain?” Ned whispered incredulously, keeping the volume down to a minimum. May’s footsteps sounded behind them; she was baking (or attempting to bake) muffins. His eyes were wide and full of either admonition or admiration. Peter couldn’t tell.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, looking over his shoulder briefly at May, who hadn’t noticed Ned’s exclamation. The news droned on in the background, drowning out their conversation. That was how they got on the subject in the first place. Something about Loki’s UN trial or hearing or… whatever it was. “Don’t tell—”
“I know,” Ned cut in smoothly, keeping his voice down. “Don’t tell May.” His eyes drifted toward the TV, which was sitting on their little TV stand against the wall, opposite the couch. On the screen, a reporter was talking; Peter didn’t know her name. The bolded headline across the bottom read, ‘United Nations Trial of Loki of Asgard’. That had begun this morning and looked to still be in progress.
“Thanks,” Peter breathed, slumping slightly against the back of the couch.
It had been a little over a month since the battle against Thanos—a few weeks (years) since he had been on an alien planet. Peter had given Ned the full story, all of which he thought was ‘so cool’.
They were sitting on the couch after having watched all the trailers for the next season of Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Now, with not much else to do, they idly chatted as Ned took a bit of a break from his family. His dad had ‘blipped’ (what a terrible name), and his mom had remarried over the five-year gap. It was causing some tension, to say the least.
“Did he try to kill you?”
“What?” Peter lowered his eyebrows and shook his head rapidly. “No.” It honestly surprised him a little too. Loki hadn’t done anything. He’d even paid for the bagels. Why on Earth he would do that, Peter did not know.
“Come on, that would have been awesome, dude.”
No, very, very not awesome.
“If you got to take on a supervillain single-handedly.”
“Uh, no.”
“Uh, yes! You could totally take him.”
Peter huffed. “Dude, I could barely take on the Vulture alone; it took all six Avengers to bring down Loki.”
“True, true.”
“Hey, Ned,” May called from the kitchen as she pulled the muffin tray out of the oven. It was steaming, not smoking, which was a good sign (probably?). No smoke alarms had been set off yet. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
Ned shrugged lightly, standing up from the couch. “Thanks, May,” he said, “but I should probably be getting back soon. It’s already…”
“Five,” Peter supplied, standing as well.
“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ned picked his backpack off the floor by the entrance, and gave a quick wave. He flicked up his hood before ducking out the door.
“So, what do you want for dinner?” asked May, closely examining the muffins. They didn’t look burnt. Wow. Peter was officially impressed. “We have—” she took one large step towards the fridge and opened it “—absolutely nothing.” The fridge was empty save for one large jug of milk, some ketchup, and one slice of days-old pizza. “Want to eat out?”
“May,” Peter sighed, flopping onto the back edge of the couch. “Nothing’s open.”
“Right.”
She looked around the kitchen, lips turned down.
“Pizza?” she suggested, flashing her teeth in a half-smile.
“Again?” They’d had pizza twice this week already, and it was only Wednesday.
“Got any better ideas?”
“No.”
They had pizza; half pepperoni for Peter, and half Hawaiian for May (how she could stand pineapple on pizza was beyond him).
As they were cleaning up (which only really involved wiping the crumbs off the table), Peter asked carefully: “Do you mind if I go out for a few hours?” It was only around six-ish. He had time.
“You mean as Spider-man?” May said as she unfolded and flattened the pizza box.
“Yeah. I might visit Mr. Stark too.”
She looked Peter in the eye, lips tilted down into a slight frown. “Okay. Just… call me if anything happens, and be home by ten.”
Peter fought a grin as he replied: “Got it,” and raced into his room to put on the suit.
Less than a minute later, he was swinging through the streets of Queens, looking for trouble or… just about anything else. There was plenty of trouble after the Vanished had returned. People had lost homes, loved ones, all their money. It had been total chaos for the first week as everyone panic-bought supplies and food, leaving next to nothing for a large majority.
By the time his phone read ‘7:00’, he had helped a few displaced people get to a food bank, most of which were running out of supplies. May was starting to organize a charity to do something about that.
Unfortunately, not everyone took the situation in stride, and a few even resorted to crime to keep floating. It was—Peter wanted to say understandable but that wasn’t quite right. Stealing was wrong, especially from those who needed it, but at the same time, whoever was stealing had to be truly desperate to resort to that. It was complicated. Everything was now.
So, when he stopped the burglary of a smallish apartment near Queens Botanical Garden, he didn’t call the police. They were already overwhelmed as it was. Instead, he took them to the nearest food bank and made sure they got enough for at least a week. It was not what he was supposed to do, but it was effective; he had never seen the same person try to steal twice.
Sometimes, Peter thought, bringing someone to ‘justice’ wasn’t always justice.
It wasn’t their fault that the world was a mess.
At around eight, he started towards Avengers Tower, swinging through the air, and enjoying the rush of the free-fall before catching himself. It was pure bliss. There was a light wind, and the air held a slightly chilled note, probably because of the light rain, which had been persisting throughout the day. The sun only just began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with orange and red and purple.
Peter landed on the balcony near the top, having to sticky-climb the last few floors because it was one of the tallest buildings in the area. The lights flicked on when he opened the double doors. “Hey, FRIDAY,” Peter asked, looking around at the empty penthouse. “Where’s Mr. Stark?”
“Two floors down, Mr. Parker.”
“Cool.” Peter made his way to the elevator, and descended to the common room, which must be where everyone was hanging out.
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Peter only caught the last few words of someone asking: “—allowed to do that?”
The scene slid into view. Mr. Stark was half sitting half lying down on the leather sofa on the left with his arms crossed. The metal brace on his right looked out of place with his grey suit. Wanda and Thor were sitting on the other side, and Loki was pacing along the back floor-to-ceiling windows. It was odd, he thought, because Wanda looked like she was dressed for an office job, and Loki was wearing an all-black suit. Nobody noticed him entering.
Mr. Stark shrugged, looking at Thor, who must have asked the previous question. “Not usually,” he said, drawing out the vowels, “but then again, this isn’t a usual case.”
Loki snarled from the back: “I’ll have his head.”
Okay, what?
Tony threw his head back, and rolled his eyes. “That’s really not the best way to get them to drop the charges.”
Charges?
“Forget the charges.”
“Brother—”
“What’s going on?” asked Peter, walking deeper into the room. All at once, four heads swivelled in his direction, mixed expressions on their faces. Mr. Stark looked tired, if he had to guess. Thor looked worried, probably about Loki, who looked like he was on the verge of murder, which was more than a little alarming. Wanda’s expression was… icy.
Tony explained simply with a random hand gesture: “We just got back from the trial.”
Oh.
Right.
That was a thing. It explained Wanda and Loki’s clothing too.
“And?” Peter pressed, looking between them.
They were silent for a moment before Tony elaborated.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Loki breathed, leaning back against the wall. He looked up at Thor, who slowly handed him a paper cup with a plastic lid. Tea. Tea was, decidedly, the best thing Midgardians had ever perfected. Sure, Asgard had its teas, but Midgard had warm tea, cold tea, sweet tea, savoury tea, and tea with squishy pearls of sugar inside the tea. Humans could do some things right.
But he was becoming distracted.
“I know, but there isn’t another option,” Thor replied with a sigh, taking a seat on the bench on Loki’s right. He held a similar cup, but he’d probably ordered coffee. The hour was still early in the morning, and thus, caffeine was a must for his brother.
Loki frowned lightly, wrapping his fingers around the warm cup. It was a nice contrast to the cold air-conditioned building. “There is. I could live elsewhere in the Nine, visit New Asgard and—”
“But would you be happy, constantly avoiding Earth’s officials?”
“I could do it.”
“But you don’t have to.” Thor took a sip of his coffee, hiding his expression.
Loki twisted the paper cup around in his hands. “I might,” he said hesitantly. “You know there’s a chance they will find me guilty.” The thought did not terrify him as much as it should have. There were plans in case of such a thing; he could leave the planet before they could so much as take the first step against him.
Thor objected adamantly, looking Loki in the eye: “You’re not.”
“They don’t know that.”
“They will.”
The overly large wooden door to their left opened, and a dark-skinned man with glasses came out to greet them. “They’re ready for you.”
“So?” asked Peter, eyebrows lowering at Mr. Stark, who had moved over on the couch. Peter took a place next to the billionaire across from Thor. “What’s the problem?”
“Ross was there,” Tony said simply, and Peter nodded in understanding. Mr. Stark hated the man with a burning passion, and Peter could see why. Only a week after waking up, Ross showed up at the Tower, demanding the arrest of Captain America and all those who had helped him.
(Naturally, that was also when he spotted Loki, which began this whole trial mess in the first place.)
Honestly, in the aftermath of the first snap, everyone had completely forgotten about the Sokovia Accords, and they wanted to continue ‘forgetting’ about them until the end of time. Ross was not so keen on that idea.
Only, Thor had never met him (apart from the trial), and neither had Loki. So, what was with the sudden dislike?
Peter looked between Wanda, Thor, and Loki, the latter of whom was still pacing along the window. “I guess you don’t like him much either?”
Wanda’s eyes glowed red for a moment, looking positively murderous. She replied with anger in her voice: “I’m with Loki on this one.”
Peter looked at them nervously. If they wanted to… Ross would be toast in seconds. Thor could probably turn him into a heap of ash on the floor, Wanda could squish all of his organs ( where did that dark idea come from? ), and Peter didn’t even want to think about what Loki would do to him.
So, why were they all angry?
It was Thor who explained this time.
After all the court formalities were done with, Loki did not believe he could be more baffled by Midgardian traditions. Endless ceremonies and oaths that held little weight. It was beyond strange.
Thor sat in the audience a little behind and to the right of Loki, who stood alone at a small podium. The governments had wanted to incarcerate him before the trial, but a quick reminder—that he was only there and agreeing to this because he wanted to—had convinced them otherwise rather quickly. Hence, the lack of restraints or guards anywhere in the room save for the exits, which met the standard procedures.
There were seven judges lined up behind a tall desk on a raised platform, all wearing strange Midgardian robes to indicate their position. Loki did not know what it was with Midgardians and their bizarre outfits for different circumstances. The room was oval-shaped, with the judges’ platform in the front, opposite to the doors they entered by. It dipped down towards the centre, meaning the audience (other UN officials; some of the Avengers) had a clear view of both Loki and the Judges from their raised seats.
His tea rested on the podium. According to the infinitely long list of rules, he was not supposed to have anything to eat or drink, but a relatively simple illusion, and nobody knew the difference.
“The panel calls forth its first witness,” said the judge in the centre, a woman with curled black hair and thinly framed glasses. A door to the right opened to reveal— “Agent Barton of SHIELD.”
This was off to a poor start already.
Barton walked steadily to a small box on the left. He looked different from how Loki remembered him—more… aged. Well, that was what mortals did. He should not have been surprised. The SHIELD agent took a seat in the box, and pulled a small microphone forward.
Loki briefly looked behind him, sharing a look with Thor that said, see? I knew this was a bad idea.
He did not dare make eye-contact with Barton.
His recount of events was startlingly unbiased, straightforward, and clear. The man covered everything from the moment Loki emerged in the research facility to the second he left for Asgard, omitting, of course, the time he had been controlled by the Sceptre. His expression remained carefully neutral throughout all of it.
Loki kept his tea warm, hiding behind his glamour to drink it, and refilling the cup at least thrice.
When he finished, the judge on the far left side of the panel, the furthest away from Barton, asked: “Were there any lasting effects of the Sceptre’s influence?”
The SHIELD agent tilted his head side to side. “Somewhat,” he answered timidly, and Loki forced himself not to react.
He had not—
He did not want—
There were not supposed to be. Yet, according to Barton, there were. It was intended to be a simple switch of loyalty, nothing more. He would not remember his time with Loki, would not have his memories altered or erased entirely. His relationships with others would be untouched, and his secrets would remain hidden. Loki had made an unforgivable mistake (which he had already done by taking the man’s free will in the first place).
What the Titan had done to his mind… he would not wish that on anyone else. Not even his worst enemies.
“Could you elaborate?” another judge asked. Loki was having a hard time keeping track of them. They were all so ordinary and wearing the same thing. There was little way of differentiating them, and he had not bothered to learn their names.
Barton inhaled deeply, then let it out, and Loki recognized the look on his face. Like he was trying to detach himself from the situation.
There weren’t supposed to be —
“I had… flashes. Dreams. Couldn’t sleep well for a few months after.’
“Dreams of what?” pressed another.
He shuddered slightly—not visible enough for any in the far audience to see, but Loki was closer. “I think it was an asteroid,” Barton said doubtfully after a moment of odd silence, filled only by the sound of keyboards clicking from behind as the officials took their notes. His eyes were slightly glazed over, haunted. “There were… aliens. Grey skin, six fingers, hooded.”
Loki flinched and tried to keep the surprise off of his face.
The Other.
How had he seen the Other?
— an asteroid.
Sanctuary.
He had seen parts of Sanctuary.
Barton watched him with narrowed eyes, glassiness entirely faded. “You know what I’m talking about,” the SHIELD agent noted scathingly. He crossed his arms, and leaned forward, moving past the microphone. “Don’t you?”
Loki swallowed and gave a minute nod. “I apologize. You were not meant to see that.” Or anything else, for that matter. Had the other seen things as well? How much did he know?
He scoffed, “Didn’t think so,” and looked away. “Why were you afraid of him?”
Loki opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by yet another of the seven judges: “There will be time for other questions later. Thank you for your testimony, Agent Barton.”
“I still don’t understand what the problem is.”
Tony waved him off with a light shake of his head. “It wasn’t that.”
Loki shook his head, and halted his pacing to sit on the chair on Tony’s other side. “Mind control… is among the most heinous crimes. On any other realm, Agent Barton would have been in his full right to kill me.”
Thor sighed softly, expression softening: “Loki…”
“It’s true,” the younger Asgardian interrupted harshly. “You know it is.”
The older didn’t respond to that, just sank back into the couch with a vague expression of defeat.
“Though, Stark is correct. That was not the problem.”
They went through the rest of the Avengers, Fury, and a dozen other SHIELD agents before the judges summoned Thor to the little box. The others gave similar reports similar to Agent Barton; calm, unbiased, calculated.
Loki noted with a flash of realization that this trial would be fair. Their witnesses did not hate him for centuries of unrelated schemes and plots. The judges were not the council members, who had ever despised him for being able to see through their lies. They did not know him, and somehow, that was better.
Stark filled his testimony with all of his usual personality quirks. He had driven the judges and most of the officials in the room half-mad by the time he left the little wooden box. Rogers’ was startlingly calm throughout it all. He did not have much to add. Unsurprisingly, it was Banner who had the most to add. The scientist had spent the most time with Loki aboard the Statesman, and what he had to add mostly fell into Loki’s favour. Unfortunately, he also told of some things the others did not, not least among which was the utterance of the name, “Thanos,” which sent a ripple of confusion and dissent throughout the room.
Thor rose from his seat, and walked past Loki to the tiny wooden box on the right side of the panel. He filled it in its entirety; it almost looked claustrophobic in there, and Loki felt like laughing at the sight. The Mighty Thor squished into a little wooden box.
His brother, however, did not seem to care about the space issue, and answered all of their questions in full truth. For the most part, said questions were remarkably similar to those that had been asked of the other witnesses. That is until they seemed to understand that Thor would know much more about Loki’s actions before coming to Earth.
Of course, they eventually reached those questions. Thor and Loki had been counting on it. “You insisted on returning Loki to Asgard to answer for his crimes,” one of the judges noted. “Why not allow the governments of Earth to oversee this process?”
Loki looked between the judge and his brother with wary eyes.
Thor swallowed, then said truthfully: “Because Loki had committed crimes against Asgard before coming to Earth.”
“Could you please elaborate?”
Thor stiffened, and crossed his arms, but kept his face blank, which Loki appreciated. “I fail to see how this is relevant.”
“We are just trying to get the bigger picture. If you could cooperate—”
“I am cooperating,” he cut in. “What happened on Asgard is irrelevant.” The words were chosen with care, and Loki forced down a smile at his brother’s newfound tact. The light stress on ‘Asgard’. Yes, what happened on Asgard was not relevant, but that excluded what happened after he fell, which was extraordinarily significant. The judges would pick up on the difference.
“Perhaps,” one granted, “but you have also said that he was missing for a year before arriving on Earth. Is that relevant?”
He nodded, easing slightly. “Yes.”
Loki inhaled deeply, and readjusted his feet. They were finally asking the right questions.
“What do you know of what happened during that year?”
“Not much, to be honest,” Thor answered nonchalantly with a light shrug. “Besides what Loki himself has told me, I have very little to add.”
“Well, we can start with what you do know,” snarked the one in the centre.
The judge two places to the left asked: “Earlier, Dr. Bruce Banner mentioned that Thanos sent Loki to Earth to retrieve the Tesseract. Can you confirm this?”
Thor was biting the inside of his cheek. Loki could tell, though he imagined that few others could, given the distance. His blue eyes rose to meet Loki’s green from the few metres from the podium to the box. What do you want me to say? they asked.
Loki laced his fingers together and rested them on top of the podium; a little signal they had come up with beforehand. Yes.
“I can.”
It was like a shock wave rippled throughout the room, officials and judges murmuring in partial horror and partial disbelief. Loki kept his eyes pinned on the floor as he gnawed absently on the side of his tongue.
“Order!” called one of the judges, slamming something down on the table. Midgardian customs were strange. The room immediately fell silent. Turning to Thor, she asked: “Do you know why? Why would this man, your brother, aid Thanos?”
A few officials in the audience hurled random insults, curses. They must have lost someone to the Titan, thought Loki, blocking them out. Insults were nothing new to him. He grew up as a seiðmaðr on Asgard.
“Order!” the centre judged yelled again, and there was the sound of something coming down against the table again. Twice this time. Unlike before, it took a few moments, and a few more shouts to quiet the audience.
“Continue,” said another, nodding once.
“That is truly all I know for certain. Everything else…” he trailed, eyes settling on Loki, who kept his face carefully blank. “There is another here who would be able to provide a complete explanation.”
Loki fought a grin as the room descended into total chaos. Some called for his execution, which was also not new. He could feel the heated stares of others baring into his back.
“—God of Lies —”
“—We can’t trust—”
“—Does this really matter?”
Another full minute of “Order!” later, and Loki’s ears were ringing, both from the shouting, and from the banging, which was more than a little irksome at this point. He felt half tempted to place a silencing spell over everything just for some peace and quiet, and to ease his growing headache.
“On behalf of the United Nations, we would like to thank you for your testimony. The final witness will be called to the box now. Loki of Asgard, if you please?”
As expected, there was a great deal of shouting that followed him to the little wooden box. He brushed shoulders with Thor on his way there, fabric rustling. If any noticed, they did not comment on it.
“First and foremost,” said the judge in the centre of the panel, “we understand the unique nature of your… disposition.”
Loki blinked, but could not say that he felt any hint of surprise. “You mean to say you have no means of telling if I am honest?”
“You can hardly blame us. You are known as the ‘God of Lies’ and ‘Silvertongue’,” one noted. “If any could lie to a room full of people, it would be you.”
Loki tilted his head in acknowledgement. The judge was not wrong, but he also did not realize that telling the truth worked out in his favour in this situation. “I assume you need assurance that I will speak truthfully?”
The judge on the far end said vaguely: “We have ways of knowing.”
“Such as?”
On cue, a familiar head of red hair entered the room from the same door as the other witnesses. Ah. Interesting.
“I thought you had died,” Loki said, bemused, as he eyed the agent suspiciously.
She hummed. “I thought so too.”
“And you’re here to—what? Evaluate me?”
She smiled; it looked pinched. “Something like that.” Romanoff took a seat only a few feet from the box, between him and Thor, who just nodded. Well. This was certainly an unforeseen development. A SHIELD agent returning from the dead to confirm the truth of his testimony. Unexpected, perhaps, but not unwelcome.
The judge closest to him, a man with greying hair and deep wrinkles, began the first line of questioning: “I believe we have gone over the events that transpired on Earth enough times to have a clear understanding of them. A full recount will not be necessary, however, if you have anything to add, now is the time.”
Loki breathed in deeply, and spared a glance in Thor’s direction. His brother gave a nod, though it was hardly noticeable. You can, it said.
He let out the breath, and started. He had very much to add.
“Okay. What then?” Peter asked, tiring of the partial explanations. This story had better come to its conclusion soon because, at this rate, he was going to miss curfew.
“That was not standard procedure,” Loki noted, curiously looking at Mr. Stark. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Was it?”
Was what?
Tony shook his head, lowering his eyes. “It was not.”
Wanda appended: “Neither was what followed.” She looked at the floor, eyes downcast and… guilty? “I’m sorry.”
Could someone please tell him what was going on?
Loki shook his head. “You have already said, and it is not your fault.”
“Still.”
Loki had expected outrage, dissent, mania. Not… this.
The room fell utterly quiet with his last word. No official said anything. Even the constant patter of the typing keys had ended. He swore he would have been able to hear a pin drop in the silence.
Finally, a man with grey hair and an odd moustache in the front row stood and asked: “How likely is this to be the truth?” His posture radiated only suspicion and hostility.
Loki tilted his head at the man. “It is the truth, whether you would admit it or not.”
“Agent Romanoff?” asked the man, stepping forward.
“All of it, General Ross,” she said, voice entirely neutral, as Loki watched her cross her arms. She did not turn to face him. “Truth.”
Ross hummed, nodding slightly. “And you believe him?” He turned to the judges, eyes scanning them.
One by one, each of the judges agreed, and Loki let a tiny grin creep up his face. It almost felt unreal —for him to be believed because of the say-so of one woman. Humans. So, trusting, yet somehow, they were doing much better at ‘justice’ than Asgard’s sorry excuse for the concept.
“And if you’re all under mind control—” he gestured to the judges, the Avengers, and Romanoff in one smooth motion “—how would we know?” asked Ross, staring Loki down. Of course, total belief was far too good to be true. It would be a mistake of naivety to think they would not require additional proof.
“Where is the Sceptre?” Loki challenged, raising his eyebrows at the idiot. “The Mind Stone is gone, General.”
“Is it?”
The Captain spoke up from his place behind Thor. “I returned it to its time myself.” He looked surprisingly calm despite the revelations.
Ross nodded again, then smirked in a way that made everyone uncomfortable. “One thing still does not add up,” he said smugly, approaching the box, and passing Romanoff. “If what you say is true, why not tell anyone?”
Loki tilted his head at the idiotic mortal. Had he not heard the other reports? “I could not do so. Within less than two minutes of coming to my senses, I was prevented from speaking until we arrived on Asgard.”
“And did you say anything then?”
Loki bristled. “No.”
“But you could have?”
He locked his eyes on the human’s, seething and hard. It was not as simple a question as the mortal would think it to be. He could have told the truth, yet he did not. First, he had been terrified that should he breathe a word of what had happened in the Void and on Sanctuary, the Other and the Titan would come for him— claim him— and Odin would either be powerless to stop it, or neglect to resist at all. Second…
“‘Asgardian justice’, as my brother put it, did not meet the same standards as yours.” Loki glanced around the room at the officials, who were looking on with keen interest. A little compliment to distract them from the more prevalent reason.
“Which means?” Ross pressed, gesturing with his hand. He arched an eyebrow skeptically.
“There was none of—” Loki motioned with his hands to the judges, then to the Avengers and Romanoff “— this. There was no trial, no hearing, no impartial jury, or unbiased judges. There were no witnesses, and no testimonies, only the Allfather, and a sentencing.
“Perhaps, there were opportunities, but none in a formal setting. None where I could speak and be believed. See, you did not trust me, and required additional proof of my honesty. Asgard knew me for centuries as a liar, however mistaken that view may be; anything I would have said in my defence would have been immediately discarded as petty excuses or attempts at gaining my own freedom.
“There was no justice. Had there been a trial, an impartial jury, and a means by which Asgard could determine my honesty, I most certainly would have explained all of this.” Debatable, thought Loki, but the point still stood. “Instead, there was naught but an unfair sentencing.”
“Unfair?” asked Ross, eyes narrowing harshly. “If you had not said anything, how could the sentence be unfair?”
Why was that a question? How stupid could this mortal possibly be? How could any sentence be fair if the judges did not have all the necessary context? “Again, there was no opportunity to explain my actions, nor was the sentence just.”
“What was the sentence, by the way?” asked Barton from the back. “‘cause you got out of prison after—what? A year at most?”
“The sentence was four-thousand years of solitary confinement.” Loki swore the whole room shuddered. “I believe you humans call that ‘war crimes’. Believe me, faced with such a term, anyone would do anything to get out of it.”
Agent Romanoff only nodded, eyes looking slightly haunted as she stared into the side of the wooden box. Huh.
“So no,” Loki concluded with a light sigh, setting aside any thoughts of the SHIELD agent. “I did not say anything.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you,” said Ross flatly, eyes scathing, like he was looking for dishonesty—looking for guilt —even though it did not exist. Not here. Not where he searched for it.
Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes. “What more proof do you need?”
“Only a little.”
“If we were on Asgard, he could very well die for something like that,” Loki said, practically flaying his brother with his piercing green eyes.
Thor’s expression was more exhausted than anything. “This isn’t Asgard; you can’t—”
“Shame,” Tony interrupted, sighing. “If anyone has it coming, it’s Ross.” He looked to Wanda, expression morphing into something closer to sympathy. “He shouldn’t have threatened you like that.”
Wanda shook her head. “I should have been able to see through it.”
“No, he shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. Your English is great, don’t get me wrong, but how much legal jargon do you know?”
She brought a palm up to her forehead. “None,” she admitted, breathing deeply.
“What happened?” Peter asked, finally letting his curiosity break him.
Wanda sighed before answering: “I… never signed the Accords. He said I could be returned to—returned to the Raft unless I—” she trailed, eyes drifting off and settling on a spot on the floor.
The Raft?
“He can’t,” Tony interrupted firmly, but gently. “The Accords are void as of two months from now. He can’t do anything.”
Besides, Wanda could probably decimate all of the US military with a thought. And Loki would join her. And probably Thor, too. And maybe Tony. Whatever it was that he made her do, Wanda could probably flick her fingers and outright murder him.
“I know that now. I should have known that then.”
Loki looked Wanda in the eye as he firmly stated: “It was not your fault.”
What wasn’t?
Could someone tell him, please?
Wanda released a shuddering exhale before answering Peter’s earlier question: “I… had to give them ‘proof’, and Loki—” she looked him dead in the eye “—it’s not that I’m sorry for. I can’t control it sometimes. I didn’t mean to…”
“I know,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “I know.”
Peter finally filled in the blanks. Ross made Wanda…
Oh.
Oh.
That was…
Messed up.
“I’d help,” he offered bluntly, looking between Wanda, who had her eyes clenched tightly shut, and Loki, who was now staring distantly at a spot on the floor.
“Help?” asked Thor with a puzzled expression.
“With Ross. If you ever need to hide a body, you can—”
Tony whirled on him with narrowed eyes. “You know how to hide a body?”
“—call me,” Peter finished. He very much did not know how to hide a body, and he was quite sure Tony knew that. Still, it was the thought that counted.
It pulled a smile out of Loki, and a light chuckle from Wanda. Peter took it as a win.
“Hey, what number was that, by the way?” Peter asked when Thor and Tony had left to find something to eat. They were all mentally exhausted and hungry after sitting in a courtroom for the entire day since, like, six in the morning. According to Thor, they’d had tea and coffee in the morning, but that was all they had to go on for the rest of the day.
Loki had returned to his pacing, though the intensity was dialled down now. “What number?” he echoed, looking at him with a confused expression. “Oh. That.”
“Yes, that.”
“Why measure such things numerically?”
Peter shrugged casually. “I would say something about putting feelings in perspective, but I honestly just made it up on the spot.”
Loki hummed, lips pressing together in mild amusement. “Six? Maybe a seven?” He looked out the window at the people walking by on the street below. “Closer to seven.”
“And now?”
“Significantly less.”
One of the cars below got trapped in the middle of an intersection, quickly followed by a bombardment of honking from others. New York: the city of angry commuters.
“Cool,” said Peter, nodding enthusiastically. He had missed curfew by a mile, but oh well. That was going to happen anyway. At least he wouldn’t have to sit in the traffic. “Let me know?” he offered, arching an eyebrow.
“All right, Spider. I will try.”