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Chapter Text

There were three things that Loki was certain about.

One, she knew she was the best sorcerer in the nine realms. Her aptitude for magic had surpassed even her mother’s ability to teach her centuries ago. She had devoured every tome she could get her hands on, learned spells from the common folk magic of vǫlur to the best guarded secrets of Vanaheim. She had no doubt there was more out there to be found, but it would be impossible for anyone else to have learned more than she had.

Two, people on Asgard were very close-minded. She was called unnatural, perverse, all sorts of colourful insults for being a shapeshifter and magic user in a realm of warriors. Call her the black sheep, for that is what she was. No matter how much she did for the people, for her family, she was never appreciated, rarely even acknowledged for her contributions. No matter how skilled she became, she would always be an outsider in her own home.

Three, she was bored. Gods were slow to change, and none were particularly interested in her ideas. She had long since learned how to conceal herself from even Heimdall’s sight, and to travel through the cracks in Yggdrasil’s branches (however much it seemed to annoy the Norns when she reached them, trying to persuade them to teach her even more.) There was only one of the nine realms she had yet to properly explore, yet to find even some magic on.

So she decided to run away from home, and spend some time among mortals. They lived short lives, which meant things changed faster. Kept it interesting. There must be other kinds of magic there she had yet to learn; even if not, they always had good stories.

If she was really lucky, maybe she’d even get to live some.

To Midgard, then.

Chapter Text

January, 1941

Bucky stood next to the poster outside the theatre, pressing his face up against it as if he was the one about to kiss Katharine Hepburn.

“Whaddya think, Stevie? Do I look like Cary Grant?”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “I think you have the chin for it, but you’re not nearly handsome enough. I think you’ll have to settle for Jimmy Stewart.”

Bucky huffed. “Aw, you have no taste, punk.”

“I’m an artist, jerk. I know exactly what looks good.”

Steve stepped into line, waiting to buy tickets for The Philadelphia Story. It was the kind of movie that attracted mostly couples on dates, leaving him and Bucky to be an odd pair. Often this would be the time when Bucky would be trying to set up a double date, but for whatever reason he had not. He had been working a lot more hours down at the docks lately; Steve felt guilty about that. After all, he was the one whose ill health kept him from contributing more to food and rent, since he couldn’t keep a steady job.

Bucky was still hovering by the poster, seeming to be looking for something. Suddenly he was headed toward the front of the line, stopping at a woman a few places ahead of Steve who seemed to be there on her own.

Steve groaned, imagining what was about to happen next.

“Say, can I get an unbiased opinion from you?”

She looked taken aback, blinking a few times as if she couldn’t believe that someone would be speaking to her. “Me?”

Steve stepped to the side slightly to get a better look at the gal. She had long, dark hair, loose down her back with untamed curls at the ends. She was rather pale, tall and lanky, and when she turned toward his friend he noticed the greenest eyes he had ever seen, emphasized all the more by the simple dark green dress she was wearing.

“If you don’t mind. You see, my pal over there says I’m not handsome enough to look like Cary Grant.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

Bucky walked back to stand next to the poster again. “What do you think?”

She seemed a bit uncomfortable with the question, but responded anyway. “Well, you do have the chin for it.” Her accent had a British lilt, her voice pleasant despite the answer.

Steve burst out laughing as Bucky’s face dropped, slinking back to Steve with his hands in his pockets. “Well, that’s one way to get rejected. He shifted in place as the woman stepped up to buy her ticket, not looking back as she made her way into the theatre.

Steve clapped his hands on his friend’s shoulder. “Even you can’t bat a thousand, Buck.”

It was only a week later that Steve was startled to see the woman again. She had left such a distinct impression that there was no mistaking her, and she was approaching his apartment building where he was sat on the stoop; getting some fresh air while the weather was relatively mild.

This time she was wearing an olive green peacoat over black trousers, carrying an armful of books. She paused a moment when she saw him.

“I’ve… Seen you before, haven’t I? You were the one with the smug friend at the film.”

That had Steve chuckling again. He would definitely be goading Buck with that one later. He soon began coughing, and looked up to see a hint of concern on her face. “I’m okay.” He managed, although she looked unconvinced. “Do you live here?”

She nodded cautiously. “I moved in recently.”

“Then I guess we’re neighbours.” He held out his hand. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

She looked at his hand as if unsure what to do with it, before grasping it gently. “Pleased to meet you.”

He looked at her expectantly, and when she said nothing further after releasing his hand, he prodded. “And what might your name be?”

She hesitated, only adding to her intrigue. “My name is Loki.”

He didn’t press her further, sensing her caution. “What an unusual name. What brings you to Brooklyn?”

“I just followed the first branch I found.” With that cryptic answer, she climbed the stairs and went inside, leaving Steve with far more questions than answers.

When Bucky came home from work. he found Steve sitting on the couch, lost in contemplation. Bucky pushed aside the thought of how adorable he was like this, instead poking him in the side. “You with me, pal?”

Steve started, before relaxing into his seat. “Oh hey, Buck. How was work?”

“Same as always. Something wrong?”

Steve hummed. “We have a new neighbour.”

“The apartment above us been rented out again? Don’t tell me they’ve been stomping around all day or somethin’.”

“Nah, nothin’ like that. It’s that girl from the theatre.”

Bucky groaned. “A pretty dame moves in, and I’ve ruined my chances before even properly meeting her? What a world.”

“She definitely remembers you, too. Called you smug.”

“Smug? Me?”

Steve shrugged.

“Maybe I should go introduce myself properly then. Start over.”

“She doesn’t seem to be interested in meeting people. It’s almost like she’s hiding.”

“Well we can’t have that. A pretty dame in hiding, living alone? Dangerous. Don’t know who might be lurking around.”

“You talkin’ ‘bout yourself?”

“Aww, Stevie, you’re sweet on her, aintcha? Should’ve known she’s just your type. Anyone who rejects me is perfect for you.”

Steve just shrugged. Bucky hummed then made his way to the kitchen, getting dinner started.

It was two weeks before Steve saw their mysterious neighbour again. This time, he saw her at the bookstore, staring at the racks of sci-fi periodicals. “John Carter and the Giant of Mars…” She murmured to herself.

“Amazing Stories is my favourite.” Steve commented on the magazine she was reading the cover of.

Loki looked up at him, startled. “Oh. Thank you for the recommendation.” She said slowly, again appearing surprised that anyone would even notice her, much less talk to her.

“If you need any other suggestions, just let me know.” Steve replied, trying to be as friendly as possible so as not to scare her off.

“I have gone through just about all of these periodicals since I’ve arrived, but they just keep releasing more.” She appeared mildly annoyed, as if the idea of her reading being incomplete bothered her. “I do quite enjoy these science fiction novels, even if they get most of the science part wrong or have terrible explanations for it. I have yet to find another genre that’s so inspiring.”

Steve looked at her as she seemed puzzled by her own lack of answers. “Well, how about fantasy?” He offered. “I really enjoyed reading The Hobbit. I can loan you my copy since you just live upstairs?”

She then finally turned and looked at him, appraising his sincerity, he supposed. “You’re not afraid of me.” She said, not as a question, but as what seemed a surprising fact.

“Should I be?”

She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Most people don’t approach me. I don’t seem to be all that inviting.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he replied, “a beautiful dame like you?”

Loki let out a small laugh. “That is certainly not what most people who have been around me would say, but I suppose it’s all relative. I have been mostly keeping to myself since I arrived on this realm.”

Steve didn’t comment on her choice of words, but found himself a little dumbstruck at the way she spoke. Not just her accent, but some of the words she used; how she described herself and everything around her.

“Would you like to get something to eat?” He asked, finally.

“That would be lovely.” She said slowly. “I have yet to try many of the delicacies that your realm has to offer.”

“Well,” he said, “perhaps I can introduce you to something new, then. Maybe we can get to know each other a little better, seeing as we’re neighbours an’ all.”

They walked into a diner nearby, Steve ordering coffee for both of them as they slid into the booth. Loki looked at the menu as if it were written in a different language, seeming not to recognize any of the food she found there.

“I confess,” Loki said steadily, “I’m not familiar with what your local cuisine is made of. For example, what are these waffles?”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I guess they’re like pancakes, but with holes in them.” Her stare remained impassive. “You don’t have pancakes either?”

“It is possible that we do,” she replied, “but they might be called by a different name. I can posit a guess as to what they might be, however.”

“Well,” he said, “we can try them. They’re usually for breakfast, but they serve them all day here.”

When the waitress returned, Steve ordered one waffle and a stack of pancakes for them to share.

Loki seemed nonplussed by his kindness, as if no one had ever offered to share things with her before. “Why are you doing this?” She asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“Well, I know if I were in a new place, I’d like someone to show me around. Help me get to know what’s what.”

“You are an unusual man, Steve Rogers. I don’t think many would behave as you do.”

‘Well, they should.” He said forcefully. “Common decency.”

She seemed taken back and said nothing.

“So tell me a little more about you.” Steve implored, trying to keep his voice light. “You said your name is Loki...” He trailed off, hoping she would fill in the silence with her own tale. When she said nothing, he continued. “So, I like your accent. Are you from England?”

“No.” She replied.

“You said something like you were not from this realm. What did you mean by that?”

“Have you read many of those science fiction stories?” Steve nodded. “In that case, if I were to tell you the truth, it might seem as if it had come out of one of them.”

It was Steve’s turn to be nonplussed. “Are you saying you’re from another world?”

“In a sense. I’m not from Midgard, anyway.”

That name sounded familiar to Steve, itching something in the back of his mind that he wasn’t quite sure where to place. “And where are you from? Another planet? I’m guessing Midgard is Earth.”

Loki hummed. “Yes, indeed that is what you call it. I am from the golden realm, Asgard.”

“Asgard? I’ve heard of that…” He trailed off again. “Wait, Loki? That’s from Norse mythology, isn’t it? You’re saying that Asgard is a real place? Those stories are true?”

She looked at him for a moment. “More or less. Although hardly flattering.” She paused. “You seem to believe me.” It wasn’t a question per se, or a statement of surprise.

“Well,” said Steve, “why shouldn’t I?”

“Most people in your position wouldn’t,” Loki replied, “especially on this realm. I think by now most people would assume I’d lost my mind.”

“I’ve heard a lot of strange things over the years. Besides, even if you’re lying, you probably have a good reason to.”

She looked at him again, with a gentle curiosity. “I— well, I don’t think I have encountered anyone quite like you before.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Steve laughed. “So, if you’re from another planet, what are you doing here?” Loki hesitated. “You don’t have to tell me.” He said quickly.

“No, it’s okay. I suppose you were right, we are neighbours after a fashion, at least for now. Besides, I’m not used to having someone to talk to openly or honestly.” She sighed. “You say you recognize my name from mythology, but do you know what I am?”

“You’re supposed to be one of their gods.”

She huffed. “I suppose that would be strange to someone who doesn’t believe in such things. We are called gods, but we are not invulnerable. We have long lives, but we are not immortal. I have been called often the goddess or god of fire, of mischief. And of lies.”

He looked at her for a moment wondering why she would say that if she wanted him to believe her. “So, when you say that you haven’t been able to talk to anyone honestly, is it because they always assume you’re lying?”

At that she let out a genuine laugh for the first time. “I can hardly believe that you are real.”

Before he could reply to that cryptic comment, thinking instead that she might more likely be the unreal one, the waitress returned with their food, placing it in the centre of the table along with plate of butter and a jug of syrup. Steve cut both meals in half and swapped parts of them on the plates before pushing one over to her.

“It tastes better with butter and syrup in my opinion,” he said, “but you can try it without them first if you like.” He put generous portions of both on his half of the food.

She looked at it cautiously before taking a fork and a knife and cutting a small piece from the waffle first. “Which one is this? I guess because it has those holes you spoke of, it must be the waffle.”

“That’s right. Steve grinned.

“In that case, the others are the pancakes? I see.” She put a small piece of the waffle in her mouth, chewing gingerly before nodding appreciatively. “I can see where this might be improved with butter. The syrup, I am guessing it is sweet?”

“It is,” Steve smiled, “you might wanna just put some on the side to taste it first if you’re not sure.”

She poured a small amount on the side of the plate, dipping the tines of the fork into it, and then bringing it up to her mouth, sticking her tongue out to delicately taste it. Steve tried to stifle the feeling that fluttered up in his stomach at the sight.

“Oh, I quite like this. She said appreciatively. “Are these easy to make?”

“The pancakes aren’t too difficult. Even I can make them and I’m not much of a cook.”

She hummed. “Perhaps I’ll have to have you teach me how to cook a few things. Easy ones. I’ve, well, not quite adapted to life…” She trailed off again, seeming lost, and somehow so small.

“So,” said Steve, “are you here alone? I mean, I haven’t seen anyone else with you.”

She gave a faint smile. “Yes. I guess you could say I ran away from home.”

Steve wondered at that. If she really was from another planet… “Why come here?”

“It’s the only one of the nine realms that I haven’t really explored. The only one with stories yet for me to learn. I’ve exhausted everything Asgard has to offer me, and find that I don’t have very good company there.” Her smile faded, looking almost wistful.

“You don’t have any friends? Or a partner?”

She grimaced. “No. Only my brother and his friends, who waste no opportunity to imply that I am not good enough.”

Steve was truly shocked now, and couldn’t stop himself from what he said next. “Really? Beautiful dame like you?”

Loki looked at him again with curiosity in her eyes. “You mean that.” She said softly.

“I do. It’s true.”

This seemed to cause Loki to laugh even harder. “Perhaps I made the right choice.” She spoke again, more wistfully, after catching her breath. “My brother’s golden sunshine fits me forever in the shadows.”

“Well then,” said Steve, “I’m glad you found a place you could shine.”

“So,” Loki asked when they finished eating, “do you plan to tell anyone else who I am?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Steve replied. “Although I still don’t know why you told me.”

“I think you are somewhat of a kindred spirit. You accepted my explanation so readily; not many would do so.” The side of her mouth quirked up. “You are a fascinating man, Steve Rogers. I am glad we are neighbours.”

“Me too.” He smiled.

After paying the bill, they walked companionably back to their shared building. He wanted to walk her all the way up to her door, feeling it was only the polite thing to do, but she hesitated outside of his door, saying perhaps, it was better for them to part ways here. “Your friend,” she began, “will you tell him?”

He searched her face. “I, well, we don’t hide anything from each other, usually. Heck, we’re basically brothers.”

Loki laughed quietly. “Well, if that’s the standard, my brother isn’t a very good one.”

Steve’s expression turned softer as he looked at her. “You know,” he said, “you don’t have to be alone. I know what it’s like to not have anyone. My folks are gone; Buck is all I have.”

She hesitated. “You’re the first person who has ever told me that, besides my mother. And even she can’t understand me really.” Loki let out a resigned sigh. “There are even those who have told me I deserve to be alone.”

Steve was horrified. “No one deserves that. I hope you can see that, Loki.”

“Well, I’ll try my best. You can tell your friend if you like; although do you really think he’ll believe it?”

“He might; after all he’s the one who introduced me to all of those sci-fi stories. He might be home by now. Do you want me to introduce you? That might be easier.”

“I think I may have already overstepped your kindness.”

“I think you’re right about one thing. We might be kindred spirits after all. This is the longest conversation I’ve had with a woman, since… Ever.”

“A sweet man such as yourself? I find that incredibly difficult to believe.”

“See?” He grinned. “Not so different.”

Before she had a chance to make up her mind to retreat the door opened. Bucky looked out at them, and then looked pointedly at Steve. “You planning to stand out here all day?”

“I was just seeing if Loki wanted to meet you?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t think that was a girls name.”

“Well,” she said, “I don’t have to be a girl.” With that cryptic statement, she turned and made her way back to her own apartment.

Steve couldn’t help the faint blush on his cheeks and soft smile as he watched her go. Of course, such a thing would never be lost on Bucky. “Stevie, I knew it. You are sweet on her.”

“Well,” Steve stammered, “she’s really nice.”

“She must be. I’ve never seen you have such a long conversation with a woman.” Steve stared at the floor.

February, 1941

Work was still sporadic, and money was scarce, so when Loki repeated her request to have Steve teach her to cook in exchange for lunch, he was happy to do so. He’d go up to her apartment in the afternoons, where she would have ingredients for whichever meal they decided to try that day. He would then do his best to help her create at least something resembling edible.

After a few weeks of this, they fell into an easy friendship, one that both of them sorely needed; with Bucky being gone all day and Loki being otherwise alone on the planet. As much as Bucky liked to tease him about it, they never progressed any further than that. Occasionally, she would come down in the evening and bring food for both of them saying she had been practising and had some extra. Steve and Bucky weren’t entirely convinced by her explanation, but said nothing.

Eventually, Steve began to wonder what exactly Loki was doing to purchase the food that she brought them. After all, if she was from another planet, she wouldn’t have had any money, and she didn’t seem to leave for a job at all.

One day he decided to just ask her. He was a little bit afraid of her answer, given what she said about being the goddess of mischief and all. Was she stealing?

She gave him an odd look when he asked, and said simply: “I’m a sorcerer.” As if that really answered his question.

It did seem to rattle her somewhat, as a few days later she asked him to help her find employment.

“It might be difficult without identification.” He replied cautiously, at which point she produced some very official looking paperwork that she seemed again to have conjured out of nothing. Steve was a bit surprised at that but supposed she didn’t have any other options.

He didn’t want anything to happen to Loki, and he knew if she were to go back to Asgard, she might face punishment for her actions. He felt a strong protective instinct for her, and knew the small lie she was creating now would be all she needed to get a more honest means of acquiring things.

He took the papers, noticing she had given herself a different name.

“I don’t think too many people would accept simply ‘Loki’, and if I were to use my patronymic— Loki Odinsdottir sounds perhaps a bit too exotic to avoid unnecessary scrutiny. So I tried to find something that seemed as ordinary as possible without being too different from my name.”

He glanced down at the documents. She had given herself the name Laura Olson.

“I don’t expect you to start calling me Laura, but other people might do so.”

He nodded, knowing how much this would mean to her. She clearly wasn’t taking this lightly, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was something he said that encouraged her to take this step. If she would have gone so far as to adopt a new identity had he not brought the topic up. Those protective instincts that he felt translated into something different on her end; as if she wanted to be something better for him than she thought she was. Part of him wanted to tell her she didn’t need to change, but he knew that he would bristle at such accusations as well. This strange, tall woman, maybe only an inch shorter than Bucky, seemed to be looking up to him as an example. Tiny, frail Steve Rogers, an inspiration to people? It was the kind of thing he could only dream about.

She complained to him on his next trip into town where he was looking for commission art jobs, or for any other kind of menial work that he could handle, that jobs for women were always going to be different than for men. Steve shrugged. It was simply how society worked.

Loki didn’t seem to care for that; saying that she was just as capable, if not more. Steve certainly believed her, but he knew too well that the world they lived in wasn’t fair.

Eventually, she was able to find work as a secretary, focusing mostly on transcription of various handwritten documents. She proved to be exceptionally good at this, as her ability to decipher small handwriting and identify other languages was unmatched. Transcription came naturally to her, and he wondered what kind of experience she would’ve had on Asgard in such things. From what he had gathered she might’ve been royalty there, and so not used to working at all. But she took to this new position, feeling useful in a way that she had not before.

Steve was able to pick up a few art jobs here and there, usually commission illustrations for magazines, advertisements, or the occasional mural. Loki soon became a fixture at Steve and Bucky‘s dinner table, contributing to their food budget with the money she earned. Steve never asked how she had acquired her apartment in the first place if she hadn’t had money to pay rent. She didn’t volunteer that information, and he was sure he didn’t want to know her answer.

Apart from trips to the bookstore, the library, and the occasional walk in Prospect Park, neither Steve nor Loki seemed to spend much time going out. Bucky had stopped trying to set him up on double dates when he went out dancing with the latest girl that caught his interest, but that didn’t stop him from trying to encourage Steve to join him.

May, 1941

They did end up going together to a film again with Bucky and his latest flame. Steve and Loki sat next to each other, sharing a popcorn. Bucky was trying not so subtly to push them closer together, even while he had his arms around his own date. Citizen Kane wasn’t exactly a romantic movie, though, so perhaps Bucky didn’t quite manage the desired effect.

A trip to Ebbets Field for a Dodgers game made for a slightly better date; if only Loki weren't so oblivious to that fact.

July 1941

As summer grew hotter, Bucky suggested they take a weekend, one of the rare ones he had off from the docks, and go to Coney Island.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Loki said in awe.

Steve was certain nothing on Asgard could even come close to the crowds, to the life, the games, the rides… Just the pure humanity that was Coney Island.

They wandered through the amusement park, Loki looking at the different games and rides with unabashed interest. Finally, her eye was caught by a sort of knife throwing game, in which one was meant to throw a blunt dagger at a target in exchange for a prize. She seemed to be analyzing it, but Bucky, no doubt feeling a need to show off, took it upon himself to nudge her and smirk.

“Want me to win a bear for you, doll?” He asked cockily.

She laughed, and went to pay for her own turn at it. Three knives in quick succession all met the centre of the target, leaving both Bucky and the game attendant completely speechless.

Steve grinned up at her, knowing well that her enhanced senses and long years of practice meant she would have a far better chance of winning at a game like this.

She requested the largest bear that they had available and smugly walked off, carrying it under her arms.

“I think I shall name him Bucky.” She said airily. “Bucky Bear.”

Bucky grumbled to himself, while Steve laughed. He could tell that Bucky was not overly happy at the idea of being shown up by a girl, but since he knew who she really was, he wisely said nothing.

As the sun lowered that evening, they walked on the beach. Walking along the water, Loki was mesmerized by the waves meeting against the shore.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.” She murmured idly. “Truly, being here has given me the chance to learn so many new stories— not just the ones I’ve read, but also the ones we’ve lived.” She looked at Steve, a genuine smile on her face. “I’m glad you’re part of it, Steven.” And with a mischievous smirk on her face, she looked down at the bear on her arm. You too, Bucky Bear.” The real Bucky scowled behind her as she met his eye and winked.

As Loki sat in the sand watching the sunset, Bucky took Steve aside and whispered to him. “So, when are you gonna make a move?” He asked, sniggering at his best friend.

“We’re just friends, Buck.” Steve replied with a frustrated groan.

“You’re obviously in love with her. I may not know anything about goddesses from other planets, but I know a thing or two about dames. And this one looks at you like you hung the moon.”

“It’s not like that, Buck!” Steve protested. “She’s just lonely, and I was the first one to actually listen to her.”

Bucky gave him a knowing look, to which he sighed, and went back towards where Loki was sat in the sand and plopped down next to her. “This is incomparable.” She remarked, seeming to relax more than he’d ever seen her before as she let out a long, slow breath. He tentatively reached his hand closer towards her, sort of leaving it in between them in an unspoken invitation. He had started to think it would be ignored entirely, but then he felt her hand wrap around his. Somewhere behind them, he could feel Bucky grinning.

December, 1941

“Becoming a warrior does not prove your bravery.” Loki said sternly. “And you should know better than to encourage him!” She scowled at Bucky, who looked slightly abashed.

“I couldn’t let him go alone…” He muttered.

“Why not? This stubborn idiot would still have been rejected, and you wouldn't have been accepted! If you’re gone, how will he get by?”

“I can take care of myself.” Steve mumbled angrily, clenching his fists. “And it’s not right. I just want to do my part, and you two are talkin’ like I’m not even here, like I’m a child or an invalid. All I need is a chance.”

“A chance to what? Die in a pointless war? Enter the halls of Valhalla before your time, leaving me—” Loki’s voice rose in frustration before she suddenly stopped, face flushing in embarrassment.

Steve reached out to put a hand on her forearm. “Loki, I—”

She shrugged him off, slamming the door behind her as she stormed out of the apartment.

Bucky gave him a withering glance. “Idiot.”

August, 1942

They were at the pictures again— this time to see The Pride of the Yankees. Steve paid no attention at all to Bucky or his date, enraptured by the story. When they got to Lou Gehrig’s infamous speech, however, he noticed Loki starting to cry softly next to him. He put an arm around her gently, and she leaned into him.

As the credits rolled, she looked up at him, eyes still moist with tears.

“Thank you.” She whispered, kissing Steve on the cheek. He flushed bright red.

That evening, she finally allowed him to walk her all the way to her door, giving him the briefest peck on the lips before bidding him goodnight.

December, 1942

Stevie,

For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’d like Wisconsin very much. Everything smells like cow shit, and there’s nowhere to go out and have fun when we get a day off from training.

Loki told me you’ve tried to enlist again. Is that three times now? All you’re gonna do is get yourself arrested, punk.

Even worse, you’re gonna lose your girl before you even get her.

Somehow I think if you’d ever man up and tell her how you feel, you’d be a much better candidate for the army, too.

Don’t lie to me either, it’s pretty clear from her letters how much she cares, but also how exasperated she is. She ran away from a society of warriors, didn’t she? Do you really think joining the army is going to impress her?

But sure, you’re just friends. Just like you and me. You keep telling yourself that, and I’ll keep telling myself.

Love you, punk. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.

Bucky

Steve folded the letter back up, muttering to himself. “How can I, you took all the stupid with you.”

How was he going to tell Buck that it was too late, that Loki was already gone?

He didn’t realize she had written him; a sudden wave of resentment mixed with despair washed over, leaving his shoulder sagging and his body tired. It wasn’t unusual for Loki to disappear for days at a time, but when he went to check her apartment he found it cleared out; and when he went to speak with her boss he’d told Steve that she had quit almost two weeks ago.

It was then with a mix of despair and determination that he attempted enlisting for the fourth time, knowing that the only two people in the world who had cared about Steve Rogers would be beyond his reach either way.

If only he hadn’t been so stubborn. If only he’d told her how he felt.

Chapter Text

“What’s your name, son?”

“Lo— Laurence.”

The recruiter chuckled. “Nervous? Nothing wrong with that. It’s the intention that matters. Last name?”

“Friggason.”

“Date of birth?”

“December 17th.”

The man looked at Loki patiently, probably desperate enough to take someone who seemed a little slow on the uptake as long as he was physically fit. “Year?”

“Oh, uh. 1920.”

“Right. Why do you want to join?”

“I can’t let my friends do this alone.”

“Well then.” He stamped the form.. “Welcome to the U.S. Army.”

Lawrence Ferguson

1-A

Regiment: 107th (New York National Guard)

Close enough.

June, 1943

Bucky had been on the boat over to Europe for only a day after shipping out when he saw a private staring out over the water, shaking with what he could only assume to be nerves. Bucky supposed that, like him, the guy had been drafted and had no real desire to go overseas to fight.

The same protective instinct he always had with Steve took over, and he found himself walking in the young man’s direction, stopping suddenly as the private turned and faced him.

Bucky would have sworn he knew him, and the brief flicker of recognition that crossed the man’s eyes before he schooled his features did not escape Bucky’s notice. He stood at attention in front of him and saluted.

“Sergeant.”

“At ease, soldier. I work for a living.” Bucky laughed, looking down at the soldier’s name displayed on his chest. “Private Ferguson. Have we met before? You look awfully familiar.”

Ferguson shifted nervously. “I don’t really know anyone.”

Bucky picked up a hint of an accent in the man’s voice, but if he was in the 107th, that meant he at least lived in New York. That accent though…

“Never mind.” Bucky said finally. “I know who you remind me of now, but you couldn’t be her.” He extended his hand. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes. My friends call me Bucky.”

The man cautiously took his hand, shaking it with little enthusiasm. “Lawrence Ferguson.” He said quietly, as if unsure that was actually his name. “I don’t have any friends to give me a nickname.”

No, that wouldn’t stand. “You do now, Fergie.” Bucky grinned and put his arm around the younger man conspiratorially. “Let’s go enjoy our last days of relative freedom.”

It didn’t take long before Bucky and Fergie were thick as thieves; always finding their way to each other at meals, on the march, even in foxholes; where their shared dark humour went a long way to help survive the horrors of the front lines.

It didn’t take Bucky long to realize it wasn’t just Fergie’s humour that he appreciated about the man.

For a long time, Bucky had tried to convince himself he wasn’t attracted to his best friend. He’d flirt with every girl who looked his way, try to set up double dates, anything to keep rumours away that might threaten them in a world that would never accept him as he was.

Especially since he knew Steve would never feel the same way about him.

For all that, he suddenly felt like a hypocrite. He’d tried so hard to push Steve to Loki, wanting to at least see him happy, if he couldn’t be the one to make him happy.

Yet here he was, falling for someone else at last and unable to say a damned thing. Even worse, it seemed not implausible that his feelings might be requited this time.

But the truth was, as much as he tried to hide it, Bucky was a coward. Fear for safety, society, and most importantly, his heart.

If saying nothing meant he could spend this war side-by-side with the man he was now head over heels for, then that’s what he would do. He couldn’t bear the thought of rejection from the only person keeping him sane here.

For some reason, in his letters back home to Steve, he never mentioned Ferg. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. But since he never got any letters back anyway, it didn’t really matter. He just hoped the punk was taking care of himself.

August, 1943

Italy could suck an egg.

After a few weeks in Azzano, they hadn’t seen more than a few skirmishes, instead wandering restlessly around their camp with their fellow soldiers from the assorted regiments stationed there. Bucky and Ferg found a few kindred spirits, playing cards and drinking with a member of the 69th, one Corporal Timothy Dugan.

“My friends cal me Dum Dum.” He laughed.

“I can see why.” Ferg deadpanned, leaving Bucky chortling.

Fergie brought another friend he’d made a week later, a Private from the all-black 92nd named Gabe Jones. The man seemed nervous at first, but Bucky and Dum Dum welcomed him with open arms.

“Everyone was strugglin’ the same back in Brooklyn.” Bucky explained with an easy grin.

“The Jerries don’t care what colour we are, why should we?” Dugan grunted.

Gabe relaxed a bit at that. “I thought Larry here was just a kind of unicorn. He came up to a group of us, started chatting, seemed to have no idea why that was unusual.”

Ferg shrugged. “I still don’t. We are all on the same side, are we not? Fighting for the same army? Why would it make a difference which people I talk to?”

Three stares transfixed him, with Dum Dum the first to break the somewhat awkward silence.

“Where did you even come from? I know you’re in this lad’s regiment,” he jerked a thumb at Bucky, “but you don’t sound like a New Yorker with that accent. And you must have been living in a cave to not realize the tension that exists back stateside with people of different races!”

“Especially back home.” Gabe shook his head sadly. “I’m from Georgia.”

Bucky and Dugan nodded in understanding. They may not have personally agreed with segregation, but they were well aware of it, and knew plenty of those who would judge Gabe by his skin tone and shun him.

Fergie, for his part, maintained a confused look but said nothing.

October, 1943

They had been in Italy for over three months now, but Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to come to a head. The boredom of the early weeks had been replaced by near constant battles with the Wehrmacht, ending in stalemates and more losses than anyone cared to admit. Still, the Germans kept coming, with more and better weapons, and Bucky had a sense of dread every time he was on patrol.

He talked about it with Ferg, who was patient with his worries, and kindly kept them from everyone else— if he was supposed to be a Sergeant, a leader of men, he couldn’t very well say that he thought they were about to lose their position in Azzano. What kind of example would that be setting? But somehow in these few months Fergie had become a dear friend and confidant, almost as close as Steve… He certainly felt like, somehow, he’d known him much longer than he had; it was as if he could see right through Bucky.

Maybe he was closer to him in a way Steve would never be. Bucky had been finally ready to accept that when he saw how Steve adored Loki, but she hadn’t been with him the day Bucky left, and Steve never mentioned why. He hoped like hell both of them were safe back in Brooklyn.

Bucky was proven right about his worries all too soon. Their forces at Azzano were overwhelmed, men dropping around him. He and Fergie had been cornered when they saw Dum Dum motion at them from behind some trees; they ran over and joined him and Gabe in a makeshift foxhole, trying to regroup.

They never had the chance, for soon enough they were surrounded by enemy troops, and taken prisoner by HYDRA.

Bucky was thankful the four of them were thrown in the same cell, so at least they could help distract each other from the chill, the work, and the dreadful conditions. Soon enough they got better acquainted with the rest of the prisoners in their cell.

“So, Barnes, do you have someone waiting for you back home?” James Montgomery Falsworth, a British officer in their cell, was trying to make conversation.

Bucky huffed out a sort of laugh. “Just some good friends. My sister. My Ma.”

“What? Handsome devil like you ain’t got a sweetheart?” Dugan grinned at him.

“You know damned well I don’t, Dum Dum.” He gritted out, before glancing over at Ferg in the corner, who along with Gabe was chatting with a Frenchman named Dernier. Bucky’s French was rusty at best, so he didn’t really know what they were talking about, but based on the blush creeping up Ferg’s face…

“Il te regarde comme plus d’un ami, plus d’un frère…”

“Non, c’est pas comme ça, Jacques. Nous ne sommes que des camarades. Quand la guerre finit…”

“Tu vas retourner avec lui? Ou où, exactement?”

“Ouais, Larry, tu n’as jamais dit d’où tu viens, avant de Nouvelle-York.”

“Parce que cela ne sert à rien, Gabe. Je suis personne. C’est mieux si je disparais et il peut vivre avec ses vrais copains.”

“Il ne faut pas y penser. Tu veux le protéger, non? Pourquoi? C’est la guerre. Si on aime quelqu’un, qui peut dire que c’est mal? On ne te jugera pas.”

“Je vous jure…”

Somehow Fergie seemed to feel the cold a bit more than Bucky did, and took to curling himself into him when they slept at night. Bucky would be lying if he said he hadn’t been dreaming of something very much like this… Just in a more comfortable place.

The shuddering seemed to get worse as time passed, and Bucky could feel his heart shattering as Ferg only seemed to shrink before his eyes. Bucky only held him tighter, no one commenting, no one caring.

As their time in the facility wore on, the number of prisoners decreased. They’d seen men taken away to the labs only to never return; rumours swirling that they were being experimented on. They seemed to be mostly chosen among the sick and weak, but the one thing Bucky feared most came to pass, and he, protective fool that he was, threw himself at the guards when he saw them coming for Fergie. He would never forget the wild look of panic in the other man’s eyes as the guards grabbed Bucky; he was trying to protest, tell him not to throw his life away, he could take it. The pleading in his eyes broke something in Bucky, but he couldn’t tell him the things he desperately wanted to. Instead, he flashed his usual roguish grin, and winked at him. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back home causing trouble in no time.”

He had always assumed Lawrence would come back with him, after all. He said he had nowhere else to go.

November, 1943

Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038.

He repeated it over and over, like a mantra. He wouldn’t let HYDRA break him. He’d be the first prisoner to go back to his comrades. They’d get out of here somehow. They’d sacrificed enough, hadn’t they?

He had no idea how long he’d been left alone when he heard the door open, maybe a bit louder than before. He tried not to wince as the footsteps approached.

“Bucky?”

He knew that voice. But that was impossible. He couldn’t be here.

“…Steve?”

Bucky was being effortlessly lifted from the table by someone who looked very much like his lifelong best friend, but the Steve he knew couldn’t be here. It had to be—

“I thought you were dead.”

“I thought you were smaller.” Bucky quipped back, before his mind snapped back to the present. “Where are they, Stevie? The other prisoners? Where’s Fergie?”

“I let everyone down there out, they were heading for the perimeter. I had to find you, Buck. I have to get you out of here.”

“He’s gotta be okay Steve, he’s gotta. He was sick, they were gonna take him, I made them take me…”

“We have to get out of here. If your friend is out there, we’ll find him, I promise. But first we have to get you out.”

“How did you even get here? What happened to you?”

“I joined the army.”

When they finally met up with the other POWs, Bucky loosed himself from Steve’s protective grasp and ran, trying to find a sign of someone who might know where Ferg was. He barely registered Steve calling after him, as his gaze landed on Dugan. He ran to the man, eyes frantic.

“Barnes! You’re alive! We all thought—”

“Where is he?”

Dum Dum’s expression softened. “We appropriated one of the trucks to use as a medical convoy. He’ll be okay. I think he was more worried sick about you than anything.”

Bucky hardly let him finish before jogging to the truck in question, Steve catching up and grabbing on to his arms before he quite made it all the way.

“Bucky, slow down. We don’t know what they did to you, you’re still—”

“Can it, punk. We have to discuss all this,” he gestured toward Steve’s larger form, “later. But I need to see Ferg.”

Steve looked at him with a little more scrutiny. “Bucky, who is this friend of yours? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so panicked about someone before, except when I used to get sick.” Steve frowned.

“Private Lawrence Ferguson. I met him on the boat over. He’s kept me sane, Steve. I can’t let him down.”

“Oh.” Steve grinned. “Happy for you, jerk.”

Bucky scowled before looking in the truck, quickly finding the green eyes that had been haunting him, looking far better than he had the last time he saw him.

“Bucky.” Ferg said softly, sitting up to get a better look at him. “You’re alive.” He seemed to relax, sighing in relief as Bucky came closer and wrapped him in a hug. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Bucky pulled back to look in his eyes, his mind racing. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to his friend’s— what in other circumstances might seem an oddly intimate gesture, no one here would begrudge them that closeness.

“Can you walk? Did you see who rescued us?”

“I was a little out of it. Gabe half dragged me here. I think I can get up now, though.”

“Good. There’s someone I want you to meet.” He squeezed Fergie’s shoulders before offering a hand to help him up.

They walked outside again, Bucky searching for Steve, who was busy organizing the assorted troops for the march back to camp.

He spotted him, tugging Ferg’s arm. But when Fergie caught sight of Steve, he froze in place.

“Hey, what’s wrong? That’s the guy who rescued us, my old friend Stevie.”

“But… He was small.”

Bucky grinned. “So you do listen to my stories.” When Ferg kept staring, Bucky soon grew concerned, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. “Hey, I’m not going to let you go anywhere just because he showed up. You mean too much to me.” 

He blinked, and nodded slowly.

Steve had the same reaction that Bucky did, noting the resemblance to Loki. They had a chance to talk a bit about it after they returned to the camp, Bucky pressing the obvious issue.

“You went and got yourself experimented on, beefed up to come over here. Not that I’m ungrateful for the rescue, but what did Loki think?”

Steve couldn’t meet his eyes.

“You didn’t tell her?”

“She left. While you were still at Fort McCoy.”

Bucky shot him a withering glance. “And you didn’t think to tell me? I know she was your girl, but she was my friend too!”

“She wasn’t my girl.” Steve muttered.

“The hell you talking about? Are you saying you never told her how you felt? You absolute idiot. Did she say why she left?”

Steve shook his head. “She was just… Gone. I think she was fed up with me trying to enlist. Or maybe she was just homesick.” He shrugged.

“Are you kidding me? She hated that place! No way she went back to Asgard, not voluntarily.”

“It doesn’t matter where she went, she’s gone.”

“You’re still an idiot. And a punk.”

“What about you, jerk?” He asked, whirling back on Bucky. “You ever going to say something to Lawrence?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Look, I know what you were doing, with the dames and the double dates. I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be. But I know that look you have whenever he’s around. Don’t make my mistakes, Buck. If there’s anything we’re short on here, it’s time.”

Bucky looked at Steve thoughtfully, hating that he was right.

December, 1943

Steve could be damned persuasive when he had a plan, and Bucky found himself agreeing to join his Howling Commandos and try to take out HYDRA. Dum Dum, Gabe, Falsworth, Dernier, and another soldier named Jim Morita all agreed to join up too. He knew that he couldn’t leave Ferg behind, though, so he and Steve tried to persuade him.

“I don’t understand it, Bucky. You could go home. Be safe. Why would you continue to fight? After everything that happened to you, you want to go back?”

Steve shook his head, muttering under his breath. “He sounds just like Loki.”

Bucky shot him a glare, and Ferg’s eyes went wide before he tried to school his expression, but the face he made didn’t go unnoticed by Steve.

“Did Buck talk to you about Loki? Is that why?”

He stayed quiet.

Bucky tried a different tactic, wrapping an arm around Fergie and whispering in his ear.

“There’s no one I’d rather have at my back than you. I can’t let Stevie down, but I don’t know how I could do this without you.”

Ferg flushed, then let out a long sigh and nodded. “Fine. If only because I don’t trust him to keep you safe. He couldn’t even keep himself safe.”

January, 1944

When Bucky found out that Howard Goddamn Stark had not only designed Steve’s new shield, but was consulting at the SSR headquarters in London, he started buzzing around the lab like a fly whenever they were between missions. He had always been interested in science and technology, and this guy was at the top of it all. Howard, for his part, seemed keen to have such an enraptured audience (even if was an audience of one). At this point Fergie had started trailing Bucky like a shadow again, but while he was happy to let Bucky ramble on about these topics he so clearly enjoyed, he never really showed any interest himself, only nodding politely when Howard addressed him.

March, 1944

After Azzano, Bucky soon realized he had too much difficulty sleeping alone. He always had nightmares of one kind or another, but for whatever reason when Fergie was next to him, he slept like a baby. The Howling Commandos were already such a motley crew that no one batted an eye at this turn of events; in fact, some seemed to have expected it. In any other regiment or company, they might’ve gotten more than a few suspicious looks, but their comfort, or at least Bucky’s comfort, was always going to be a priority for this team’s leader.

It really wasn’t much more than had happened in their cells before Bucky was taken to be experimented on. Simply holding on or just being next to each other was more than enough to keep the demons in Bucky’s mind at bay. Besides, ever since Steve had arrived, Fergie became almost possessive of Bucky, seeming to think that Steve was incapable of protecting him the way he felt he needed to be protected.

Bucky had to admit he wasn’t entirely upset by this turn of events, or this new side of Ferg.

August, 1944

He fired the shot, and the man who had been sneaking up behind Ferg dropped. When the all clear came, Bucky jogged over to where Fergie was standing; uninjured, but maybe a little dazed.

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks to you.” Bucky’s face turned scarlet as Fergie kissed him on the cheek with a mischievous grin.

December, 1944

“It’s beautiful.” Fergie sighed as he wrapped the green wool scarf around his neck. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

“Well,” Bucky’s face turned into a smirk, “you could always give me a kiss.”

That earned him a smile, a shrug, and a brief, mostly chaste kiss on the lips.

“Best present I’ve ever gotten.” He grinned stupidly.

“I very much doubt that.”

Bucky decided not to press his luck.

February, 1945

Bucky lost his grip on the metal bar, and saw Steve’s face fading into the distance.

I should have told him I loved him.

His world went black.

Chapter Text

“His name is Loki.” Fury said as he held out a file. “He’s not from around here.”

Steve’s head whipped around and looked at the man. “Loki? No. It can’t be. It can’t.”

“He stole the Tesseract after coming through a portal. I believe you’re familiar with it?”

Steve was insistent. “No. You don’t understand. This can’t be Loki.”

“According to our intel, this is Thor’s brother, Loki. Of Asgard.”

“Do you have a picture of this Loki?”

Fury pulled a page from the file, grainy security footage of a figure coming through the portal with the face barely visible. “No. This isn’t Loki. This is… This looks like Fergie.” Steve’s brows furrowed. When Fury raised an eyebrow, he continued. “He was Bucky’s friend during the war. One of the Howling Commandos. He disappeared after Bucky... Well. We never knew what happened to him.” Steve sighed. “Loki was someone else. A… friend of mine from before the war.”

“Well,” Fury said, “This person is calling himself Loki, and he has the Tesseract. We need you to help us recover it.”

Steve grimaced, but agreed to help.

February, 1945

Loki tried to trace where Bucky’s body had been dragged. He could tell by the fresh blood on the snow that he had been alive— he had long suspected HYDRA had given Bucky some version of the same serum Steve had, and this only seemed to confirm it. So where was he?

March, 1945

Loki stared at the newspaper headlines. She was too late.

Steve had stopped Schmidt, but at the cost of his own life.

She never found Bucky. If she hadn’t wasted all that time, if she’d have been there, then maybe—!

In the course of a month, Loki lost her two best friends. The only people who had cared about her as much as she cared about them.

Once again, she was alone.

She broke down, sobbing. She felt so weak.

So weak that she was no longer invisible to Asgard.

You allowed mortals to use the Tesseract, a treasure that I placed on Midgard for safekeeping, as weapon for their own petty squabbles!

No, Father! I did not know!

You are weak and cowardly, Loki. You are no warrior, and your magic could not stop a precious artefact from being lost on that realm.

I swear to you Father, if I had known…

Silence! I will be stripping you of your powers until the Tesseract is located. Then you will be sent to retrieve it. No matter the cost.

Father, please! I don’t want to hurt anyone— I have friends there—

And that is why you are my disappointment, child. Never shall you see the halls of Valhalla so long as you let sentiment and cowardice control you.

May, 2012

Loki’s hands shook as he extracted the eye of a man in front of the gathered crowd. Gods, he was glad none of his friends could see who he had become, who his father had forced him to be.

He would do his dirty work, be his scapegoat. Plausible deniability for the All-father. Hel, after his show of “banishing” Thor to this realm, only to manipulate him into becoming a hero yet again, Loki wouldn’t be surprised if Thor were sent after him now, as if all this had been Loki’s idea, so Thor could stop him and once again become the hero to Loki’s villain.

All those years ago, those happy days he spent with Steve and Bucky— he really thought he had escaped. That he didn’t have to be the trickster anymore, didn’t have to be blamed for everything. That he was worthy of having friends who loved him as family, the way his real family never had.

But they were taken from him all too violently and all too soon.

As the crowd scattered, his part of the operation complete, he followed them outside and projected an illusion; creating copies of himself (and his stupid outfit) to surround the people gathered in the square, and make the grand, pompous speech Odin expected.

But then, his speech was interrupted by a man wearing a uniform and carrying a shield.

A very familiar shield.

A very familiar man.

When he looked up at Loki, it was with a wistfulness in his eye that had Loki shrinking back in a dazed kind of horror, his worst nightmare come true.

“Steve… How?”

“I could ask you the same. What are you doing, Loki? Or is it Lawrence? Or Laura? Were you ever really our friend, or was it just another trick from the God of Lies?”

Loki, stunned, shrank back down into the sobbing woman she had been the last time she was on Midgard, holding her arms out in surrender. The other heroes who had come with Steve, the crowd she had threatened, they all gaped in confusion at the sight, but knowing the first real friend she’d ever had was still alive? She couldn’t possibly follow through with Odin’s plan.

Steve looked at her with an expression she couldn’t identify, before handcuffing her and escorting her to the jet he had arrived in.

Loki remained silent and as impassive as one could with drying trails of tears streaming down their face. Steve stood over her, assessing with inscrutable blue eyes; ones that had haunted her for almost seventy years. Behind him, she could hear the voices of the two others who had come with him to stop her; a red-haired woman, and a dark haired man who reminded her of someone from the war.

“This was too easy. Didn’t even put up a fight.” The woman was saying. Romanoff, Loki’s mind supplied. Her face was prominent in the memories of the agent she had controlled to help her when she had stepped through the portal. She had tried not to pry too much; but the sceptre Odin had provided created a connection that allowed her to see much more of Barton’s mind than she was entirely comfortable with.

The brunet replied with a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Well, we went to capture a man, and now we have a woman. They said he was a god of mischief, right? Has to be a trick.”

Howard? No. That wasn’t right.

Steve kept staring quietly. When a bright flash of lightning blinded Loki, she began shivering involuntarily.

“What’s the matter?” Steve deadpanned. “I don’t remember you being scared of lightning back in the war.”

“It’s just…” She bit her lip. “I’m not overly fond of what follows.”

What followed before Steve could manage a reply was a loud thunk that jostled the jet.

Loki stared at the hatch, which opened to reveal Thor. Of course.

Before anyone could react, they had locked eyes, and he pulled her unceremoniously from where the chains had held her against the wall of the jet, before spinning Mjölnir and flying out into the forest below.

He set her down on the cliff, before whirling to face her, a mix of anger and frustration creasing his brows.

“Loki, what have you done! Where is the Tesseract?”

She scoffed. “You are so naïve.”

“Naïve? Sister, do you realize what—”

Before Thor could finish, the metal man from before whirred by in a flash of red, knocking Thor backwards.

Loki sighed, and leaned against a rock.

“I think you owe me one hell of an explanation.” She looked up to see Steve standing above her, helmet back on, shield on his arm.

“Do I? For what?”

“This. You. Everything.”

She tried not to cry again. “I don’t want this. Any of it. But I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” He replied without a trace of irony.

She laughed then, a bitter, sarcastic noise that felt more like the goddess of mischief than just Loki, the girl who ran away from home.

“That’s really funny, coming from you. You sure didn’t act like you had one when you kept trying to get yourself killed. And then you show up in Austria, looking like—” She gestured at him vaguely. “This.”

“Right, Austria. Where you were, with Bucky. Did he ever know it was you, before he died screaming, falling off that train?”

Loki grimaced. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Relive one of the worst days of my life? Point out that I wasn’t even able to tell Fergie, the man Bucky loved, that he was dead, because he had already disappeared?”

“No.” She whimpered. “Bucky loved…? We were friends, I was trying to protect him, because I knew he needed to get back to you!”

His face twisted into something more full of anger than she had ever seen on him, before or after the damned serum. “I loved you, Loki. You left, disappeared without a trace, broke my damned heart. I guess I should be glad Bucky died thinking—”

“HE DIDN’T DIE!” Loki screamed, before the sounds of her brother fighting the other man grew louder. Steve gave her an incredulous look before running to try and separate them; he probably had no idea who Thor even was.

She broke into sobs again, mumbling to herself. “But Bucky loved you, Steve…”

“We’ve been searching since you gave us the name, Cap. There are no records anywhere of a Lawrence Ferguson in the 107th, or the Howling Commandos. No photos, he’s not part of the exhibit. Did Loki… Do something to your memory? Implant himself there?”

Loki was inside a cell, designed to hold something more powerful even then her. Steve was speaking with an agent on the other side of the glass, a brunette with hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.

“Agent Hill, I promise you, Loki—”

“Of course I didn’t.” Loki hissed, scowling. “I guess turnabout is fair play, isn’t it? I see now how you felt back in ‘41, Bucky and I talking about you like you weren’t there…” She trailed off with a sigh.

Steve turned to look at her intensely then.

“I erased it. All of it. Every trace of me, every photo, every record. As far as Midgard was concerned, Laura Olson and Lawrence Ferguson were mere ghosts in the memories of a few. They never existed.”

“How?” The agent asked.

“I’m a sorcerer.” She said dismissively.

“Why, Loki? Why do that?”

She breathed in slowly. “I couldn’t find him. I spent a month trying to track where they took him, but then you died, and Odin found me, and I had to make sure… To keep your memory safe. To keep Bucky safe if they still had him alive somewhere.”

Steve stilled, glowering at her again.

“Bucky died. I watched him fall off that train! He couldn’t have survived that!”

“Could you?”

He was startled. “What?”

“If you fell, landed in the snow below. Would you have died?”

“I have the serum, it might have protected me. But Bucky—”

Her voice rose in anger again as she approached the glass, causing the agent to move her hand towards her holster in defense.

“What do you think happened to him in Austria? HYDRA wasn’t just strapping him to a bed for fun!”

Steve’s eyes went wide, suddenly grasping the implication.

“They… Replicated the serum?”

“So many men disappeared into that lab. They must have all been trials. But Bucky… ”

“How long did you know? Did he know?”

“I don’t think he did. And I wasn’t sure until I went to look for his body… And only found a fresh trail of blood.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“How? Would you have believed me then, with no evidence?”

“I…”

“You didn’t know who I really was. I never let you get close to me in Europe, I was afraid you’d see right through me.”

“Bucky didn’t.”

“He didn’t know me as Loki the way you did.”

Steve’s expression softened somewhat. “I just… Explain it to me, Loki. Please. Why did you leave me? Why disguise yourself as a man to join the war when you were so against it?”

“What I was against was the possibility of losing my best friends, whom I loved more than anything. I thought… I thought you’d be safe, the army would never take you. So I decided to follow Bucky, make sure… Well, I did a piss-poor job of it anyway. It wasn’t a disguise. I’m a shapeshifter. Another aspect of myself, but still me. I just had to fake the name again, and the recruiter misheard me, so I was stuck with what he wrote.” She looked down with a wistful smile. “I tried to use ‘Friggason’ for my mother. But before I knew it, I was Fergie. I didn’t even have to try to befriend Bucky again, he came straight to me. And in the end… I let both of you down. You showed up, changed. I was livid, but I couldn’t say anything, could I? You both wanted to throw yourselves right at the danger, as usual. A life of combat is not one I relished, but the choice was taken from me, and we all paid the price.”

Steve’s expression was unreadable now, as he tried to absorb the fountain of information Loki had given.

Loki pleaded with him. “Steve, I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this, but it’s too late to stop it.”

“It’s not too late Loki. You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. It isn’t a choice for me. I’m… I’m not my own person anymore. Everything is just a show of force. This is all about Odin showing that he has power over all of the realms. He doesn’t care about any casualties, especially mortals. It means nothing to him if people die.”

“But Loki, you care. I know somewhere, deep down, you still care.”

“So,” Stark said, pouring himself a drink, “it seems like you and the Cap go way back. I heard you knew my old man, too.”

Loki kept quiet, taking little interest in the man speaking to her.

“So what I just wanna know is, why go through all this trouble? Are you trying to get his attention again?”

That bristled at Loki and she finally spat out. “Are you kidding me? I didn’t even know he was alive! If I had known that he survived that plane crash, I would never have spiralled, never been brought back to Asgard, never have been forced to do Odin’s dirty work for him!”

“Daddy issues, then.” He said dryly. “That’s familiar. So what exactly is the plan here?”

“A show of force. He blamed me for letting the Tesseract be stolen in the first place, even though I hadn’t even known it was being used for HYDRA’s weapons. I was crushed by the loss of my only two friends. I thought they were gone, lost to me forever. I broke down. My sorcery wasn’t enough anymore to hide from the All-father. He brought me back to Asgard, punished me by taking away my magic, and when your friends started experimenting on the Tesseract again, he sent me here to retrieve it. All of this is his plan! He sent me to do the dirty work, be the villain, and then Thor gets to show up make a big display of being the hero who stopped that villain Loki! He gets all of the praise, meanwhile for my trouble I’ll get locked up, and Odin will have his precious treasure back without any blood on his hands. If I could stop it I would, but it’s too late. Odin still has control over me.” Loki began to look frantically around, a manic gleam in her eye. “I can’t. I can’t disobey him.”

Stark looked at her curiously. “Doesn’t sound like he’s the kind of guy you really wanna obey.”

“No, you don’t understand. I can’t. I physically can’t. He enchanted me. Even just talking about it, it is taking everything in me to resist hurting you. You have to hit them in the head.”

“Excuse me?” Stark’s head snapped up as he looked at her, startled.

“The sceptre,” she explained, “it’s a form of mind control. But if you hit them in the head, hard enough, it can… reset it…” Loki seemed to be in great pain as she struggled to say those last few lines, and was close to losing consciousness. Her resistance to Odin’s control of her was weakening her.

Stark didn’t really know enough about Loki to be sure, but it did seem like she didn’t have much control over her actions at this point. Everything that she said took far more effort than it should. Maybe he could keep her talking, clear this up; but if Cap couldn’t even get through to her— the man that she claimed was her best friend— what hope did the rest of them have?

“No,” Steve said defiantly, “you can’t take her back there. She committed crimes on Earth. She stays here.”

“I am sorry Captain.” Thor seemed ashamed. “Whatever you thought my sister was to you, she isn’t. She is the trickster, goddess of mischief. She must return to Asgard and face her punishment there.”

“Why was she even back on Asgard? She told me when I met her that she ran away, that she had no friends there, wanted to hide and never return to where she was so miserable.” Steve paused a moment, shaking his head. “Why would she do that?”

Thor looked at him thoughtfully. “She was often known to travel through the branches of the world tree, bypassing the Bifröst and causing all sorts of mischief wherever it was she found herself. I’m not surprised to hear she had previously found her way here, and I am truly sorry that you were involved in one of the schemes that she thought up.”

“I don’t believe it.” Steve said forcefully. “She wasn’t scheming about anything. She was lonely. She just wanted someone to listen to her.”

Thor threw his head back and laughed. “Lonely? In the Golden Palace? We had friends, she spent as much time with them as I did. We went on glorious adventures together, fought side-by-side in countless battles. It was only her sour attitude that might have cost her anything. She was loved, but ungrateful. She lived up to her title all too well.”

“Are those really your words, Thor? Or are they your father’s?”

Loki was trying so hard not to let any emotions cross her face as she watched the interaction that unfolded in front of her. The muzzle that had been placed on her mouth meant that she couldn’t say anything to defend herself; but even worse, she couldn’t say anything to tell Steve to stay out of it.

Don’t get involved. Nothing good can come of it.

She could take care of herself, but however loud she thought it, she wasn’t able to say anything. The mix of fear and despair that crossed her features went unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t really looking at her, and so the only one who did notice was a desperate and exhausted Steve, who could never win this argument against the God of Thunder.

November, 2013

Loki’s status, of course, afforded her the largest cell in the Asgardian dungeons, but a cell was still a cell. The cell felt no different than the dirty one she had been crowded into in the factory after Azzano. Except there, she had been curled into Bucky’s arms, before he was taken away and experimented on— only for him to disappear without a trace not long after they were finally reunited. She might well spend the rest of her long life, thousands of years in this place. She didn’t really care anymore. She couldn’t be back with her friends.

Nor did it matter, as nothing she said would convince her brother; he would never believe that their father had been both the cause of her punishment and the arbiter of it.

That left only her mother, who tried to cheer Loki up in her own way. Despite knowing well how it had come to pass, even she realized that there wasn’t much that could be done, so long as her daughter was stuck in this place.

It had been more than a year, alone and hopeless in that cell, when Thor had come to her at last.

He was frantic, begging her for help. Looking at his face, she already knew what he wanted. A guard had already told her their mother was dead, and was sent off to Valhalla. Loki could not even attend the funeral.

She had done her best to keep it together, but the only person who would’ve ever been on her side in Asgard was gone. It was the desire for vengeance that had her agreeing to bring Thor and the mortal woman to Svartalfheim.

it was easy enough to fake her death during the battle. She had no desire to go back to Asgard to sit in the dungeons again; even if she would somehow be pardoned by Odin after her ‘heroism,’ she would only end up being used by him again. And Thor? Thor never understood. He probably still thought he had been doing what was best for her.

So she let him think her dead, and slipped once again through the branches of Yggdrasil to return to Midgard. Only this time, she didn’t end up in Brooklyn. She ended up somewhere, although she could never have known at the time, much closer to someone she had thought gone forever.

March, 2014

Loki found that this modern version of Midgard was even easier to manipulate that it had been 70 years ago. She didn’t have to enchant anyone or summon currency; she simply tricked their machines into believing that she had paid— moving some numbers around? Well, that was easy enough. But she had no idea what to do with herself in this realm. She began renting an apartment where the portal had taken her; a city called Arlington in the state of Virginia.

It certainly helped that she wasn’t recognized; it seems only her male form had survived in images from the attack in Germany and the damage she had caused before being taken into custody.

She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to try to find Steve and his new friends again— after all, they let her go. Yes, Steve had protested, but for all that it seemed less about her and more about what she had done. She was sure he could never forgive her for the attack in New York. He would never forgive her for leaving; especially now that he knew she left twice before: once as Loki, once as Fergie.

When she heard about a Captain America exhibit in a museum on the other side of the river, she thought maybe it might be a nice idea to try and find out the fates of her other comrades in the Howling Commandos. She had never meant to disappear, after all. She had just been so determined to find Bucky…

She soon found herself in Washington DC, at the Smithsonian Museum and its newly renovated exhibit about Captain America. She knew well that traces of her involvement in the Howling Commandos had been erased, she had seen to that. But what did Midgardian history tell of the others?

She made her way into the museum exhibit, trying to keep a low profile, just in case. She wandered around until finally stopping in front of a row of life-size mannequins, bearing the uniforms all her friends wore. There was Dum Dum, and Gabe, Jacques, Falsworth, Jim. Steve, whose profile had been updated to reflect his recent return from the dead. She froze in front of the mannequin Bucky, whom they introduced as “Steve Rogers’ best friend from childhood” and “the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country.” She exhaled sharply. What a joke. They hadn’t even looked for his body. Loki looked, but never found him. She was supposed to be the one who protected him, but she couldn’t. Steve couldn’t protect him either, and who could know what happened to him after that.

She wondered absently if records from Hydra or their successor existed somewhere, if she might be able to find it, if she might be able to track down information about that train, that ravine… Anything referencing a prisoner, or a soldier who had fallen from a mountain… She knew he had to have been alive when he landed. Where did he go?

Any choice she had in the matter was taken away long ago, and so sighing, she turned away from the exhibit and almost walked straight in into Steve.

“Funny seeing you here,” he said with a hint of irony, “I thought you were locked up on Asgard. What happened to that?”

“Steve,” she pleaded, “not here. I can explain—”

“Explain what? Explain why there’s no picture of you here? Explain why Thor insisted that everything that we were to each other was was a lie? I really would love for you to explain that!” Loki could see the frustration in Steve’s expression growing, even as he tried to keep his voice low— it seems he too was trying not to be recognized. “I woke up here in the future thinking everyone I knew was dead, and then the first mission I get put on, the person I’m supposed to stop is a ghost of one of my best friends. No, worse, he had my beloved’s name, and the face of a comrade, the man Bucky loved.”

“Please I… I can’t explain here. It’s too much.” Shame crept into Loki’s voice, her face heating up at Steve’s insinuations of their past. “You believed me once. When we first met. There were so many things… I never could have explained it all in the short time we had.”

“Time.” Steve muttered. “I know some things about time. I didn’t expect to wake up in the future; I should’ve expected you wouldn’t age at all.”

“I lived all those years you were frozen, Steve.”

“But you weren’t there back then, Loki. I needed you and you weren’t there.”

Loki cast her eyes downward, unable to even bear the sight of Steve any longer. She finally whispered in response. “I’m sorry. It seems there were many things that happened between us that I never understood either. I suppose we’re all just fumbling in the dark.”

“Just tell me one thing, Loki. Did you really care about us? Did we ever really mean anything to you?”

She closed her eyes, and then seemed to reach into nothing; her hand disappearing in sort of green light. When it reappeared, she was holding a large stuffed bear.

Steve stared at it, unbelieving. “Is that… Bucky Bear?”

She nodded. “I hid it where Odin couldn’t take it away from me. He took everything else— He made me a prisoner, sitting in my chambers completely powerless. This… Was my only comfort. I am sure a lot of things changed in 70 years, but Steve… You can’t understand how long 70 years is, when you didn’t have to be awake for all of it. It shouldn’t be much time at all to one such as myself, but with no powers, coming after the only time in my too long life I was truly happy, well.”

Steve’s expression softened somewhat.

“I’m only here now because Thor thinks I’m dead. I had to fake my death, but he would’ve just returned me back to Odin. He thought he might pardon me. For all his good intentions he still blindly believes our father— because if what Odin has done is wrong, then what is he fighting for? He gets to be in the light. I have to be in the shadow. That’s the way of things on Asgard.”

Steve looked at her thoughtfully again. “That’s not fair. I had no idea you—”

“You have every right to be upset with me.” Loki cut in. “I thought I could try to make a life of my own— a home. That I would be allowed to exist freely anywhere, that I would be allowed to feel happy anywhere. I never should have… I never should have gotten involved. I should not have let you in, and I never should have followed Bucky to war.”

“Please don’t say that. I never told you that I was in love with you back then. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so I would never say it, however much Buck teased me.” Steve was starting to grow more emotional, barely choking back his own tears. “I’m starting to get the feeling it wasn’t reciprocated, so maybe I was right not to. I died thinking I had done something to you; something that hurt you so badly that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. It broke my heart, but I thought it was my fault.”

An embarrassed confusion crossed Loki’s face. They had drifted towards a secluded corner, but this was still a topic that she hated to discuss in public. “Steve, I… I’ve never really considered that kind of relationship with anyone. You two were my dearest friends; the best I’ve ever had. But you’re right; you never said anything, and it never would’ve occurred to me that you felt anything more than friendship for me. I loved you very much— as my best friend. It hurt so much for me to see you trying to do the same things as those who had hated me on Asgard; to run off and fight, trying to be something you thought other people needed you to be, instead of who you were. When you formed the Commandos, I realized I was shortsighted; but by then it was too late.”

“Too late for what, Loki?” Steve’s look suggested he knew, but wanted her to say it aloud.

“I couldn’t... I couldn’t tell you who I really was. I couldn’t tell Bucky. When I left Brooklyn, I shapeshifted to my male form and enlisted, making sure I was in the same regiment as Bucky, I needed to make sure he got home safely to you. We weren’t quite so close when I was Loki, but when I was Fergie, I loved him as much as anything. As much as I ever loved you, and in the same way— a very dear and very close friend.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you give off very mixed signals?”

“I’m still constantly surprised by Midgardian culture; things that are seen as romantic or signs of a deep attraction here are just so normal on Asgard. Two people sharing a bed or keeping each other warm on a cold night, especially in a war camp? Kisses to show affection? Things like that. You saw things that I never would have, because I didn’t know any different. I still remember how astonished everyone was that I had gone and spoken to Gabe and his regiment; it didn’t make any sense to me. His skin colour was the same as Heimdall’s, the all-seeing, who controls the Bifröst. On Asgard nobody would be treated differently for anything like that.”

“They shouldn’t be here, either. But that was sort of what started our war in the first place.”

Loki could only muster another sad expression. “Go live your life, Steve. Forget about me. Forget about Loki, about Laura, about Ferg. I’m Asgard’s villain, and you deserve better than a friend like me.”

Before he could have a chance to respond she whirled around and strode out the door.

This time it wasn’t newspaper headlines; it was the headlines scrolling past on screens everywhere she went. Steve Rogers was a fugitive. What could possibly have happened?

She was walking by the river, mind racing. She kept near the copse of trees along the bank, lest someone interrupt her anxious thoughts.

They were interrupted, all right, but by a large vessel in the sky, explosions rocking it, and something falling awfully fast into the river.

No, someone.

Wearing his old garish costume, it wasn’t hard to tell who. She was about to go after him, almost on instinct, when another figure dove more purposefully into the water.

She watched cautiously as the man dragged Steve onto the shore, before checking his pulse. So he was alive.

But then the man turned to run.

Some instinct deep within told Loki she needed to catch him, so, thinking she would very much like to not have such a size disadvantage, she shifted forms, and then he teleported himself a short distance in front of the man.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Loki, and Loki himself couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise.

“Bucky…”

He frowned, as if not recognizing his own name. “Is that me? That’s what the other man called me.”

“Do you mean Steve?”

“Yeah. Steve. I recognized him.”

“Is that why you saved him?”

“I… don’t know.”

Loki tilted his head. “Someone has tampered with your memory.” It wasn’t a question.

“I only remember flashes. Things they made me do. And not so many things from before.” Bucky grimaced. “But when they wiped me, they could never remove everything. They never erased my dreams.”

“Were they good dreams?”

“I had a lot of nightmares. But in all of my good dreams… You were there. Why?”

Loki winced, wondering if she should tell him the truth now, but thought perhaps his mind was still too damaged. He would need time to heal; and without knowing what was done to him, there was no way for Loki to help. “We were comrades. Friends.”

Bucky frowned. “No, that’s not right. Steve was my friend. You were something else. Who are you?”

“You would have known me as Lawrence Ferguson.”

“Fergie.”

Loki nodded.

“In the dreams, you were… We were…” His brows knotted in confusion. “Lovers?”

Loki smiled sadly. “Those sound like pleasant dreams. But we were just friends.”

“Oh.” Bucky frowned. “I have to go.”

Loki was nonplussed, and made no move to stop him.

“Goodbye, Bucky.” He whispered after him. “I’ll tell you everything, someday.”

All they had now was time.