Loki took long strides away from Stark Tower, wanting to get as far as this momentary freedom would allow. He had no intention of running— he had no place to go— but he needed a chance for some fresh air and fresh scenery without the distraction of a chaperone. Loki took deep breaths, savoring the cool air. In truth it could not really be considered “fresh” but this now was leagues better than what he’d been trapped in the past few days. Loki became restless and anxious when held in one place for too long thanks to two years of imprisonment. Being incarcerated in Asgard was preferable to the time he spent with the Chitauri, but it was still a painful period of seclusion. There were times when he almost longed for that isolation to escape the constant company of Stark Tower. He thought he’d done considerably well and had been on his best behavior the past few weeks. He hadn’t lost his temper once (though had many close calls), and he had yet to indulge his mischievous side. There were so many opportunities to play cruel jokes and use the menial magic he had access to towards making Stark and his brother’s lives as miserable as his. Loki was, however, very aware of the precious relative freedoms he had here on Midgard as opposed to his cell on Asgard, and had been cautious not to overstep his bounds.
Of course, he would most likely be reprieved of those liberties now that he had left the Tower without permission. When Loki realized that the systems were down and he could walk out without supervision, he didn’t bother to consider the consequences. He didn’t have to think about getting out of the furnace that Stark Tower was becoming with the onset of colder days, and away from the brimming holiday excitement for celebrations foreign to Loki and his interests. Perhaps Halloween would be enjoyable, but Thanksgiving and Christmas exuded warm, familial emotions that Loki would rather shy away from.
Loki brushed past a woman with bag-laden arms as she hailed for a cab and stepped away from the reach of a blind beggar. What a mess Midgard was—is. The more time he spent on Midgard the more grateful he was that he was not ruler over such a pitiful, scrambling race. He could not think of a more divided people, in terms of material goods and personal belief, in all the Nine Realms. Asgardian class divisions were not such a persistent problem. Peasants in the countrysides of Asgard had more freedoms than the impoverished here on Midgard, and the higher classes of Asgard held much more responsibility to those lower them than the rich and political leaders did on this Earth. Media presentation certainly didn’t help matters. Loki offhandedly wondered how Asgard would fair if there was a similar system of public information.
The real question that lingered in the back of his mind was, could he have made something of this world and its people? Of course he could have, with some effort. He was a god after all. In retrospect however, considering that Midgard would have been a menial conquest to start a string of greater feats, perhaps it would have taken more effort that he was willing to muster.
But none of that mattered now. A whining siren sounded in the distance. It struck a cord of panic in Loki’s being that quickly subsided as the crowd thickened. He crossed a street at the tail of a migrating mass of business people and shoppers, and took a turn down a road he’d never been on before. Not that it mattered. He didn’t make eye contact with the people passing him by. They didn’t exactly give him the light of day either. It didn’t matter to them that he was Loki. It didn’t matter where he came from, who he was or what he could do, or had done. None of him mattered, and it infuriated him.
He was so caught up in himself that he lost his sense of direction. When Loki finally looked up from the grey concrete walkway he felt a spec of something cold in the corner of his eye. He brushed it away and looked at his hand, where another spot of cold shocked the nerves in his thumb. Rain. It was starting to rain. He almost resigned himself to continue on in the rain, but as the rain escalated to a steady downpour Loki thought the better of getting wet and having to be taken back into custody in cold, damp clothes. He took refuge in a nearby subway entrance. He moved out of the pressing crowd and leaned against the tiled wall— then straightened, considering the dirt that might be there, and slumping back against it in resignation. He was tired. He just felt angry and tired.
A woman passed by him with a child in her arms and her head bowed. In her wake a lilac or lavender scent filled the air. The smell eased his nerves a bit. Loki took the pause to observe the other humans that passed him by. All of them looked so caught up in themselves as they marched chaotically around the platform. A younger man to his right was putting an instrument back in its case, but not before counting the change he had made during the day. An even younger couple had found a moment to show a tender display of affection before the next loading. People toed the yellow line that created an invisible barrier of safety between them and the tracks, waiting impatiently for their ride home. Others leaned against columns and walls, much like Loki was doing now, eyes trained on the illuminated screens in their hands. Loki watched as a man ran into the back of the woman who passed him before, almost causing her to drop the child in her arms. The man quickly apologized before hurrying on his way while the woman turned around and watched him leave. She seemed somewhat dazed, or unfazed, by the encounter. Loki had not seen her face when she passed him by before, and just from her profile he thought she looked…off. Loki frowned and straightened, trying to get a better look at her.
She was pale, and had odd bruise-like blotching along her hairline. Her eyes looked tired, hollow, and oozy. Loki was surprised so many people had chosen to stand so close to her as ill as she looked. Her hair was in an unkempt bun and she was wearing far too light a jacket to be out in this weather. She adjusted the child in her arms awkwardly as though she were unsure how to carry the dead weight, while the child itself continued to sleep. The sound of the next train echoed throughout the platform and the waiting crowd surged to life. The woman too stepped into the rush towards the opened doors of the train. Loki pushed himself away from the wall and started forward— an intuitive sense that something was wrong and he needed, wanted, to get a better look— but a hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He was yanked around to look into the face of Captain America.
“Looking for someone?” the super soldier glowered. “Waiting for some of your little pals to pick you up?”
Loki almost scoffed outright. Little pals? No, Loki had thankfully not heard from Thanos, the Other, or either of their minions in quite some time. Loki turned his head but the train and the woman were long gone.
“Think what you will,” Loki mumbled, pushing the visual encounter to the back of his mind.
“Stark, we’ve got him,” Widow said in to the communication device on her wrist. The Captain held up handcuffs clearly given him by Thor, and Loki held out his hands with resentful cooperation. Four SHIELD agents arrived to help escort Loki to the street level.
The remaining Avengers, Stark, Banner, and Thor arrived with the Quinjet come to take Loki to the Helicarrier for further action. Not a word was spoken between any of them. The distant noise of traffic and sirens, along with the shouts of nearby agents, were all muted by the steady downpour of rain that was close to freezing. Between the rain and the lingering evidence of breaths in the cold air, it was difficult to see, which clearly made the Avengers and agents anxious. They all pressed closer as Loki was escorted onto the jet. He and the agents near him practically waded in the soppy slush that pooled on the sidewalk and street. So much for being taken back in dry clothes.

---

“I see no reason to argue the point further,” Loki stated. “I wasn’t escaping. It does neither of us any good to insist I was.”
“Well you certainly picked a nice time to head out without telling anyone,” Steve said, frowning. “Who were you looking for on the platform?”
“Again,” Loki sighed, “I wasn’t looking for anyone in particular. There was a strange woman that I was trying to get a better look at, but I was not in search of anyone.”
Steve frowned and he glanced over at Natasha. She returned the look with one brow raised high.
“A strange woman,” Coulson said slowly, putting an emphasis on the word strange.
“That could be anybody in this city,” Clint said from the back of the room.
“You’re absolutely right. It could be anybody, if every woman in this city walked around looking like they’d stepped out of that television program about the undead,” Loki returned snidely, pursing his lips and staring at the Avengers like they were the biggest idiots he had ever laid eyes on. Which wasn’t terribly far from the truth.
“Well it is October,” Tony quipped. “It may be a couple weeks too early but it isn’t inconceivable that some woman was walking around in costume.”
“I assure you, that was no costume,” Loki returned heavily. “She was taking a child somewhere.”
“We’ll have someone look into it,” Coulson said. He turned to Thor. “Until then we need to know what the next action is going to be against your brother.”
Thor turned to Tony. “I would prefer Loki remain at the Tower.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“While it’s true that Loki did leave without permission, he did not go far and caused no harm, which I feel would not have been the case if he were to make such a move while imprisoned with SHIELD.”
“That is true,” Clint mused. “SHIELD would have been much more reactive had he slipped security here.”
“Are you insinuating that our response was slow?” Tony asked, insulted.
“No, but I think there would have been a violent response knowing what he can do and considering how stretch SHIELD is right now. I don’t think there would be any stopping to think before attacking,” Clint elaborated. “I certainly wouldn’t.”
“Fury might not be willing to agree to that arrangement again,” Coulson said. “He may at the very least require one of our agents to stay at with you as well, at least for a time.”
“You mean me or Barton?” Natasha asked.
“Most likely.”
Loki sat through the exchange with more silence than patience, tugging at his bonds and looking from face to face as the Avengers and Coulson spoke to each other. It took some extra haggling to convince Stark to take the God of Mischief back to the Tower, and even then there seemed to be more that needed to be taken care of. Paperwork, Clint complained.
Loki was escorted to a waiting area and placed across the room from a petite girl with dark owl-eyes. She had her knees tucked under her and chewed on the rim of an empty juice bottle. Her nails were ragged and the skin around them raw. There was a sleek metal bangle on her wrist that did not match the dark, loose and layered clothing she wore, looking like some kind of nomad. Her eyes shifted quickly like a bird from person to person, and she seemed on edge with the number of people in the room. Natasha left her fellows and squatted next to the girl. She spoke in a low whisper but Loki could just make out the conversation.
“Why are you out here?” Black Widow asked. The girl lowered the bottle and twisted the cap back on.
“That other agent told me to wait here for you to come back,” the girl said airily.
“Did he now?”
“Mhm,” The girl nodded her head.
Natasha stood back up and seemed to think for a minute before going to Agent Coulson, pulling him aside. That whispered conversation Loki couldn’t discern. Whatever it was, Coulson seemed to like it. He then grabbed Tony, and when Agent Hill came in with a report form, he grabbed her too. She passed the paperwork to Clint, who took it up resentfully.

---

“Don’t you think that it would be better for her to live outside of SHIELD facilities if possible? It would have to be better for her nerves than sleeping in an unfamiliar place with people on patrol every second of the day,” Coulson said.
“You are remarkably on board with this too, Agent Romanoff,” Hill remarked.
“If it will get her to talk I’m for it,” Natasha shrugged.
“This certainly doesn’t seem like your usual method of interrogation for such an urgent case,” Agent Hill said.
“I recognize there are quicker methods, but I respect Coulson and I know that he would rather us not rough her up for answers,” Natasha said.
“I respect Coulson as well,” Hill said, turning to him, “And I know you know that. And maybe you’ll get to find her some other place sometime soon. But Fury wants her to undergo some psychological evaluations and maybe counseling before SHIELD takes any further action against her. She may not be considered mentally or emotionally stable enough to use for evidence. Director Fury can tell you more about that, though. He wants to speak with you both and Agent Barton as soon as that report is filed.”
Clint was quick to ignore the last of that order and passed the papers on to Steve, who took them with an unexpressed sigh and got to work.

Notes