Chapter Text
Tony stumbles into his workshop with a phantom ache in his arm and the remnants of the recurring nightmare still clinging to his conscience—the taste of fire and the smell of ozone and the feel of red sand under his feet.
“Good Morning, J! Rise and shine.”
“The sun is not up, Sir… and neither should you be.” The lights still turn on, the workshop around him coming to life.
“And you should sass your boss less, but we can’t have everything we want.” Tony walks towards his work table, shaking the numbness away from his arm. “Pull up the schematics of the Mark V will you?”
The virtual display opens up. Tony moves it around, blowing it up and then winces at the shooting pain in his arm. “And while we’re at it, also pull up the schematics of my left arm.”
“Need I remind you that you are not an android?”
“No?” Tony peers at the connections in the foot thrusters of the design, trying to figure out how to improve its efficiency. “Pity.”
“Forefathers, let the dark magic flow through me one last time.”
Loki froze as the Heimdall looked at him, an apology in his eyes even if there wasn’t one on his lips.
“No,” he whispered, but the Bifrost was already summoned, its light blinding him. “No! I am needed here. NO!” He struggled, trying to run, trying to escape the pull of the cosmic bridge, but his screams were swallowed by the roar of Bifrost. The destroyed Statesman dematerialized from in front of his eyes, throwing him into the void once more, lost.
He landed in a place that was terrifyingly familiar.
“Fuck,” he swore wholeheartedly when he looked up and saw the blue sky. Not here. Not him. Not after what happened last time. What had Heimdall been thinking?
He lay on the ground, his one hand still outstretched, trying to hold on to what was left of Asgard before it was cruelly ripped away from him. A few moments later he got up and dusted his cloak, knowing there was no way out of it now. He had lost Tessaract, and the paths out of Midgard had always eluded him. He was stuck here unless he found a way out, back to what was left of Statesman… of his home.
Besides, Thanos was coming; Midgard needed to be warned.
Thinking of the Statesman and of his brother made him swear anew. Heimdall should’ve sent Thor. Loki wasn’t welcome here. How was he expected to convince them of the approaching danger when he was the danger in the eyes of this realm?
A loud honk of the wretched metal vehicles the Midgardians preferred made him realize he was standing in the middle of the road. A car swerved past him, with the driver directing some choice curse words at him. When he lowered the windshield to glare at him, Loki saw his eyes widen in recognition.
Yes.
It was hard to forget the face of the man who had tried to invade your planet a few years ago.
He supposed it was only a matter of time until he was surrounded by Thor’s shield brothers who called themselves Avengers. The only logical course of action was to find them before they found him. Element of surprise was the only thing he had in his favor at the moment, and he was going to make the best of it. But where should he start?
As if in answer to the question he hadn’t voiced, his eyes found the large billboard sign on the roadside.
‘STARK PHONES—the gadgets of the century.’
Stark.
The tower looked the same as it had when he had chosen it as the stage for the climax of his drama—an eternity ago.
“Do you call failure, experience?” Thanos had asked him, but Loki had not failed at all. Not back then. There was too much at stake, too much depending on his perfectly played out failure, and he had weaved the lies with all the skills of a master liesmith.
He couldn’t afford to fail now either.
When he materialized in the balcony of the penthouse, his lips twitched upwards in a mockery of a smile. He had been here before. He never thought he would ever be here again.
Last time, the mortal had offered him a drink. He wondered if he might be shown the same courtesy this time around. He could do with a drink, and he had much to say.
He could see Stark walking around the floor, a metal creature following him around. Stark looked like he was lecturing it. If what Thor had told him about Stark, and what he had gleaned from Clint was to be believed, that was very much possible. He waited until Stark was in clear line of sight of the window, still unaware of Loki’s presence, and then he rapped on the glass, twice.
Stark yelped, caught off guard, and covered his glowing heart with his hand like a maiden about to faint. Loki couldn’t help enjoying that image. But the shock on Stark’s face remained for a mere moment, quickly transforming into horror, and then rage. Then he tapped the glowing device on his chest, and right in front of Loki’s eyes an armor materialized from it, red and flowing like blood. It enveloped Stark’s torso like a second skin.
Loki had to admit he was impressed. He would’ve called this magic if he hadn’t been sure that he had felt no shift of cosmic energies. Stark had used his instruments and his mind to come up with something that would even impress the master spell weavers and smiths of Alfheim.
But at the moment, the magic armor had materialized a large gun on Stark’s hand, and despite his super healing, Loki knew it would hurt being shot by it. Despite what anyone said, he didn’t have a death wish. Not when there was a job he was tasked with. A job hundreds of Asgardians, Heimdall, and maybe even Thor sacrificed their lives to help him achieve.
So he raised his hand in surrender as he stepped through the glass. “I come in peace, Avenger.”
“Yeah, and I manufacture baby bottles.” Tony stepped forward, still as fearless as Loki remembered. “What do you want?”
“Five minutes of your time. Thor needs your help. In fact, the entire universe does.”
“Wait, wait, wait… back up. Thanos sent you?” Stark was still clad in his armor but at least his helmet was off. Loki took it as a show of willingness to trust. It was more than he had been expecting.
“Yes.”
“Bullshit. You can’t tell me it wasn’t you.”
“Oh it was,” Loki let his lips curl into the sharpest smile they could. “But every being has a point where they break, a point when the pain becomes too much. I thought you knew that.”
Stark flinched. Loki derived a moment of vicious satisfaction from that and then continued, “Now, if you’re quite done interrupting, I believe I only have three more minutes.”
“Yes. Sorry. Go on. Six stones, the Gauntlet, the Titan. Friday you following all this.”
“… certainly, boss.”
“You don’t sound so certain.”
“Stark!”
“You need to give me a minute here, buddy. You can’t just rearrange my world view like that. So, Thanos sent you here six years ago. Why?”
“To retrieve the Tesseract,” Loki bit out in annoyance. It was becoming increasingly grating to try and keep the conversation on track. “It is the space stone, capable of bending space and allowing its wielder to travel anywhere in known universe.”
“And where is the Tesseract now?” Tony asked innocently.
Loki admired the slyness of the human, setting a trap for him so fluidly. Loki could lie, but it would serve no purpose. “With Thanos,” he accepted, his eyes daring Stark.
Stark leaned back in his seat, putting his hands on his knees, as if he had won the argument already. “So, why again, should we trust your word?”
“Because you don’t have a choice,” Loki glanced towards the giant screen mounted on the wall, at the giant ringed spaceship descending from the sky and the people running in panic. “Nor, I’m afraid, do you have the time.”
“You are not the only one cursed with knowledge,” a booming voice says, and its part mockery, part respect. The only thing Tony feels is dread, the only taste in his mouth the taste of death.
He jerks awake, a cry on his lips from a dream that is all too vivid even after weeks of recurring every night. Tony is around ninety seven percent sure it’s not a dream; it feels too raw, too real, to be called one.
Tony slowly sits upright, his brain foggy—or is it sharp, with the memory of gaping hole in the sky and a universe halved—as it always is when he wakes up from this particular nightmare.
“Jarvis, are we certain that earth has not been invaded and destroyed while I slept?”
“If it was, Sir, my programming would have surely compelled me to wake you up.”
“Someday I would be compelled to delete that programming of yours,” he warns, groaning against the ache in his head.
“My continued existence is indeed up to your discretion, but if I may ask, however will you survive without it?”
Smiling helplessly at the antics of his AI, he shakes his arm again which is numb from him sleeping on his side… it is always numb these days, just like he always has nightmares these days.
He probably needs to consult someone with medical expertise about it. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to explain to a doctor that he is certain the world has ended in the near future, and do it without being hospitalized.
Tony wishes he was indeed been cursed with knowledge. It seems like his curse is the one of ignorance instead… of having forgotten a future that hasn’t arrived yet, but may even have passed a long time ago.