A/NI figured I should probably post this here as well. _ Please, I would love feedback. :3 Oh, and I would like to thank ModernAngliophilia for being my beautiful Beta, and Kytt for being an awesome role-model and support.

Full Title: A Simple Wrinkle is not so Simple when Dealing with Time

Chapter 1: The End of Everything

From his vantage point, Tony could see flames. The whole horizon was on fire, and there was nothing he could do about it. The whole city was in ruins. Maybe the whole country. Maybe the whole world. But since he couldn't see anything but the stretched expanse of what used to be New York City, he found that he couldn't really care if the rest of the world was burning as well.

The attack had caught them all by surprise. It was nothing like the portal opening and the Chitauri flooding into the city. They had at least been expecting the attack. They had known what Loki wanted to do. Sure, they didn't know the extent of the army the Chitauri had, and those flying alien whales had been more than they had been expecting, but they had known an attack would happen.

But this...

It had come without warning and without mercy. One moment, Tony had been busying himself with improving one of his favorite cars, and the next, a jagged scar was ripped into the sky; into the universe. It had felt like an earthquake, the way everything shook as the first attack hit the city.

And then, they came. Stronger and faster and larger than the Chitauri. Uglier and more vicious. Tony didn't know exactly how that was even possible, but it was. It hadn't been long before he had gotten into his suit, trying to find the others, and ran straight into one of the aliens.

Aliens. Monsters. Nightmares. He didn't know what to call them. The first thought to cross Tony's mind was You have such a horrible underbite. Shouldn't he have thought something else? But the jaws on the thing reminded him of an eel or an angler fish, complete with very long and very sharp teeth. And if that wasn't enough, the thing had leered at him.

The others were there, Jarvis told him. Thor wasn't. They didn't know why, and they really wished he was, because they needed all the help they could get. But Thor didn't show up.

These things were smart. Smarter than the Chitauri. More advanced. And Tony felt very weak, especially since it didn't seem to take anything at all for the beast to grab him with one clawed hand and throw him into the nearest building.

They had been incredibly outnumbered and outmatched. And even though the Avengers were strong, they were tired. They were tired fast, and, unlike the Chitauri attack, had no idea how to stop it. There was no portal to stop, no main control ship to destroy—or so they thought.

Tony wheezed, choking on the acrid smoke that was seeping through the cracked mask still covering his face. He didn't know if he would take it all the way off if he could. He couldn't, but hypothetically speaking. The smoke was practically thick enough to cut, and obviously not good to inhale.

He gagged again on the small wisps making it's way in through his suit and closed his eyes, willing his body to move; his suit to move.

These creatures seemed to have known what sort of people were on the team defending the earth. Right away they focused on Bruce. They didn't try to fight him. They didn't try to kill him. They tried to capture him, which meant they were smart, which meant they had known how strong Bruce was when he was the other guy.

The same could be said for the Captain. Tony wasn't sure where he had gone. He had seen him getting thrown away from one of the aliens, far, far away, and disappeared into the smoke. He doubted he was dead because of that. Tony knew it took much more to hurt the super soldier. But could they have known about him as well? Was he locked away too?

Tony didn't even know how badly injured he was, unable to pinpoint where the pain was coming from. So he continued to lie in the ruins of one of the floors of Stark—now Avengers—tower, where he had been thrown and gritted his teeth. He knew he was bleeding, that he was sure of, but he was having trouble trying to command his limbs. Or his suit.

He felt this painful feeling of being trapped and he didn't like it but he was obviously not in any shape to change anything. "Jarvis, report," he groaned out, eyes closed. When the AI didn't respond he opened his eyes. "Jarvis."

"Sir," Jarvis' voice sounded like it always did, but relief flooded through his injured body all the same. So he wasn't completely alone at least. Good. Good. "I seem to be having some difficulties."

"I would expect so," Tony said with a weak smile, eyes closing once more. His chest hurt and he vaguely wondered if part of his chest plate had bent. "How bad is it?"

"I can not tell at this time, Sir. I apologize." The AI's voice sounded regretful. Truly sorry.

Tony let out a ragged cough, tasting copper. "I understand, J. Neither of us are in the greatest of shape, are we?" He coughed again.

"No, we are not," Jarvis replied.

Tony looked out through his damaged helmet to survey the ruined city. He had not been strong enough, he hadn't known what to do. And he had failed. He choked on the gore flooding his throat and panic flooded him as he couldn't breath.

"Jarvis..." he gasped out once he had expelled some of the liquid clogging his windpipes. "What's that?"

"What is what, sir? I do not know what you are referring to." Jarvis' voice was patient and calm. It soothed Tony. It lulled him into a daze and all he wanted was to sleep. He was so tired. But what was that? Through the smoke and the fire and the pain.

"That," Tony said, trying to lift his arm to motion towards the shape—no, it was a figure, he could tell that now. "That person." The pain in his anatomy was slowly disappearing. Before, he hadn't been able to tell how badly he was injured because of the agonizing pain filling his body. But now it didn't feel like anything really hurt. He was going numb and he knew that wasn't a good thing.

"I do not know sir, I apologize. My matrix seems to be damaged rather badly," Jarvis said.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to stop them."

I know that voice. Tony tried to focus on the figure. It had come so close now, but his vision was fading in and out and he was having trouble making out the person who was now crouching down in the rubble before him.

"Stark, do you hear me?"

"Not really," Tony groaned out. "Who are you? And why are you so...blurry." He convulsed in more horrible coughing, trying to rid his mouth and throat of his life's blood that was now trying to drown him.

"Stark, listen to me. You mustn't fall asleep," the voice was very comforting. Familiar, but he couldn't tell if it was in a good way or a bad way, but it was comforting none the less. Tony wasn't alone and it made him feel safe.

"Don't know—" he sucked in a deep, harsh breath, retching on blood. "—if I can. E-everything's getting dark." He lifted his numb arm and tried to get a hold of the only sort of life-line he had right now. The suit made it even harder to do so, the metal so heavy.

"Please, focus. I need your help. To fix all of this. Listen to me, Stark. You mustn't fall asleep." The voice was urgent and pressing. It was trying to ground him, so he wouldn't drift away. Tony's hand bumped into the thickly clothed leg of his companion and let it fall to the ground with a thud. He closed his fingers around the substantial fabric of the man's jacket pooling around his knees.

Tony tried to respond. He really did, but it all got caught up in his throat and again he couldn't breath. He tried to keep the grip on the jacket. He really did. But with his whole body going numb, he couldn't hold on.

And as he lost consciousness, he heard the sounds of Jarvis and the man yelling in his ears, begging him to stay awake. How he wished he could fight the darkness; it reminded him of the void past that portal. But he couldn't and he was falling and falling.

-o-o-o-

The pain was overwhelming. It was like when he had first woken to having something being implanted into his chest, into his sternum. It was fear and darkness and blinding hot fire that burned through his whole being and he tried to fight it off but he was stuck in an unforgiving prison made of metal. Is it my suit? His thoughts were swallowed in the agony once again.

But he heard that familiar voice. That soothing calm that was like ice. And parts of his metal prison slowly being taken apart, giving him room to breath. He sucked in clearer air and his lungs protested and he lost consciousness again.

-o-o-o-

It's just a dream. It's just a dream. Tony repeated to himself in his fever induced unconsciousness. But he knew that it wasn't; the pain that jolted through his subconscious was real and the events that played out before his eyes had happened. Please don't show me this again. I don't want to see it.

But it replayed and he watched, helpless and in pain, as one of the enemies descended on Agent Barton without the assassin noticing and tore him off of the roof he had been stationed on. He hadn't been able to look away when it happened and he couldn't look away now, even though it was his own mind.

The monster bit into the agent's shoulder, deep and unyielding. Tony saw the long teeth of its lower jaw protruding from the man's chest. And as he tried to fight it off, as he tried to get away, the creature ran him through with it's sword.

Make. It. Stop. Tony choked, trying to breath. His eyes flashed open but he couldn't figure out where he was. He convulsed again in pain.

"I'm helping you, Stark, stop fighting." The man was there. Pale skin and dark hair and brilliant green eyes.

But Tony couldn't breath and the pain was too much and he passed out again.

-o-o-o-

The first thing that he noticed upon waking up was that he wasn't in agonizing pain. He couldn't muster the strength to open his eyes just yet, so he lay still—could he even move anything if he wanted to?—and tried to collect himself.

He heard humming. That soothing voice, that had been there the whole time he had been too much in pain to put two and two together. So the person who had appeared when he had started to slip had...had what? Saved him?

Tony tried to take in a deep breath and found his throat and lungs were bone dry and he was seized with a powerful bout of coughing. He tasted blood and groaned, rolling over a little bit.

"So you have finally joined the living, Tony Stark. Drink this, I was unable to get you to drink much while you were unconscious." Tony felt a hand on his forehead, on his neck, on his shoulder. It was cool and soothing, helping him to sit up enough to take a drink from the cup that was gently pressed against his parched lips. He swallowed it gratefully and finally opened his eyes.

Tony let out a startled growl and pushed away from the man helping him up, successfully falling off the bed. "What...the hell..." he panted out as his head spun, fixing his gaze on the dark haired man kneeling beside the bed.

"At least thank me for saving your life, Stark. I do not appreciate being treated like that. Not after all of the work I've done," Loki said as he stood with unnatural grace, green eyes regarding him coolly.

"Why are you back on Earth?" Tony asked, shocked by the resentment in the God's voice. He had practically destroyed all of New York and he expected Tony to not react strongly to the sight of him? He was insane.

Loki rolled his eyes and turned away from the man. Tony realized the God wasn't wearing his full battle armor. It appeared to be the tunic he wore underneath and his pants and boots. "Saving you, obviously. Really, Stark, I thought you were a genius."

Tony scowled at the God, gritting his teeth. But he was still too thirsty to argue so he dragged himself back onto the bed with a groan of pain and reached for the cup sitting on the small table beside the bed. He downed it swiftly, and another, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on Loki.

"I'm unable to heal you further at this time though, so do try not to move around too much. I can not believe how you managed to get yourself so injured in such a short amount of time," Loki stated, glancing at him from where he stood beside the table across the room.

The injured man glared at him but gave a small nod. Now that he was over the initial shock and rush of adrenalin that had come with grasping that Loki was the one who had saved him, he realized that his entire body felt like he had been hit by a truck. Or several. Carefully, Tony lay back down onto the bed, closing his eyes.

"So, you helped me. You expect that to make everything all better?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed. "You destroyed New York. You killed Phil."

"I've killed quite a few people, Stark. And so have you. And if you don't remember, New York was very recently destroyed," Loki said. His voice had regained the quality he remembered from when he had first spoken to him, so long ago. When he had flown down to his tower and landed, and he had offered the man a drink, and then the God had thrown him out of the window.

Tony opened his eyes to look at Loki then looked past him to take in where exactly he was. The room they were in was bare, but it looked safe. "Where are we?" he asked. He pushed himself up into a sitting position with a small groan.

"Safe," Loki replied, sitting down in one of the chairs to look at Tony. "I have made sure of that."

"That isn't what I meant," he said, scowling. He ran a hand over his face. "Where are we?"

"You can see once you can easily move without injuring yourself," the God said calmly. "I do not feel like trying to explain it to you, as I don't know your world as well as you. Now, are you hungry?"

Tony didn't trust him. How could he? But so far he hadn't done him any harm and had actually fixed him up. So he figured the food would be safe enough to eat and nodded. Loki got up and left the room through a door that had been closed up until this point. The slender man didn't close it completely as he left.

Relaxing as the man left, Tony allowed himself time to take in his surroundings. The room had no windows and only one door; the door through which Loki had left. As Tony realized this, he pulled the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. A strong chill traveled down his frame that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. It was a small room. Dark. Not that light would be good at the moment, since his head was still throbbing. Nevertheless, unwanted memories threatened to overwhelm his consciousness and he forced himself to focus on the other aspects of the room.

The bed where Tony was seated was sturdy and made of a dark wood that matched the nightstand, and table and chairs set butting up against the wall on the other side of the room. He closed his hand around the blanket enveloping his body and felt the pads of his fingers catching on the uneven, wool material. In the soft light of the simple lamp residing on the nightstand, he could tell it was a deep green hue. Figures...of course it's green. It's Loki. It wasn't a cold or unwelcoming color though and for a moment he buried his face in the cloth, inhaling the soft, natural scent that he was so unaccustomed to and relaxed his shoulders.

He let the blanket fall away from his face, brushing away runaway tufts of wool, and filled the cup once again with water from the pitcher. This time he sipped it slowly, enjoying the way the cool liquid soothed his aching throat.

"How did this all happen?" he said under his breath, running his fingers through his hair once again. The glass he held shook gently and when he looked down, he noted that it wasn't the glass but his hand and set the cup back down on the bedside table.

Tony sat silently, blanket wrapped around his battered form, holding his hands together to stop the trembling, and tried to focus on something else. When the room offered no such distraction, he turned to something he knew would.

"Hope you're still in one piece," Tony muttered. "Although I'm still alive so I'm betting yes." He pulled his shirt up to expose the machine keeping him alive. It probably wasn't the smartest idea though as pain shot up his torso and he wrapped his arms around his stomach, doubling over. Something was still broken or aching, or hadn't gotten around to healing fully, and he regretted moving so suddenly.

After the pain subsided to a throbbing ache instead of a strong jolt of agony, he slowly sat up and his hand went to the arc reactor. It glowed comfortingly and he let out a relieved sigh. He covered it with his palm and felt the heat under his skin. It didn't seem damaged. Well, at least there was something good about his situation. He ran his finger around the edge of the circle of metal.

"I'm glad that you did not have a panic attack," Loki said and Tony looked up.

"What are you talking about? Why are you so concerned with me?" Tony asked, eyes narrowing. He tugged his shirt back down gingerly, not wanting to jostle himself too much. He didn't want to repeat the strong waves of pain that had filled him a few moments before.

"You have been through a lot. You nearly died. I expected a bit of panic at the very least. But maybe it hasn't sunk in completely," the God of Mischief said and brought over a platter. It held a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. It smelled good, simple and comforting.

Tony let him set it on his lap and picked up the spoon, eyeing the man. "I've nearly died before," he stated. "Tell me what happened. Why are we here? Why are you here? Where are the others?"

Loki let out a small sigh, which sounded strange coming from the lips of a man who had the nickname of 'Silvertongue'. He pulled one of the chairs over but kept his distance. So Tony wasn't the only one not trusting the other.

"Agents Barton and Romanov are dead. The beast has been locked away and there is no way of getting him out and your precious Captain is on ice, I believe," Loki said, sharp eyes not leaving the human as he started to eat the food slowly. Dead? He had known Clint to be dead. He had seen him getting run through with a damn sword. But he guessed a part of him was hoping that somehow the agent would have survived.

And Natasha was dead as well? Tony was having trouble processing the fact that the fiery red-head had been beaten. That she was dead as well. Had she been killed in a manner similar to Clint? Did he even want to ask? He was sure the God would explain in as much detail as possible if questioned.

He decided that he didn't want to ask, at least not just yet. He wanted to keep his food down, and even though he wasn't particularly squeamish, he didn't think he could handle it right now.

Tony swallowed what he had in his mouth in a slow, deliberate motion. "What about Thor?"

"My dear brother is still in Asgard. He wished to come and help, but he couldn't."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, Stark, he was unable to get to Midgard. The attack on your world has effected other worlds, even if not directly. For the time being, he is stuck in Asgard. You are a typical human, Stark. Thinking that your world is the only one to be effected," Loki said. Tony noticed that the already pale man looked even paler; worn; tired. "The monsters that attacked call themselves the Helatite."

"Helatite?"

Loki shook his head a little, as if to say he didn't have a better explanation. "It's just a name, Stark."

Tony was quiet. The people he had come to care about—that in itself was a bit overwhelming—were either dead or as good as. The city of New York was destroyed. And he had been saved by the man who had tried to kill him. Could this situation get any worse? Tony had to stop himself from thinking on that too hard because he was sure that yes, it could get worse. Granted, Tony didn't have as big a grudge against Loki as others, although he couldn't forgive him about Phil.

"I doubt you're surprised that I'm having trouble trusting you," he said. "On account of you throwing me through a window and all."

Loki regarded him carefully, eyes not leaving the man's face."Oh, do not get the wrong idea, the feeling is mutual," he replied with a cool smile. "So let us agree on our conjunct distrust and move along to fixing things."

"How exactly will we fix things? Bringing people back from the dead is impossible."

"That is not what I had in mind, Stark," Loki said icily. " And I did not mean fix this immediately. We have plenty of time to discuss how the two of us will, hm, hopefully fix your sad little world. And you aren't completely healed and won't be of any use to me or anyone else in your current state."

"Am I just a tool for you? A prisoner?"

Loki's eyes widened slightly. "No, of course not. I do not take prisoners." The way he said 'prisoners' made a strong shudder of unease run down his spine and for a moment he regretted putting it so bluntly."You may leave at any point of time, but believe me when I say that you wouldn't last too long in the state you are in, without your suit. And if you don't want to help me set things right, then I guess I can not force you. Now, rest." And with that, Loki left the room, silent and cold, closing the door behind him.

The genius stared at the door for a long time, mind racing. Prisoners. Fixing what happened. What did he mean when he said Tony wouldn't last too long? Sure he was injured, but wouldn't he be fine once he was completely patched up?

Tony set the tray down beside the bed and slowly lied down. This was too much to take in. His head was reeling and he slowly curled in the blankets, holding it in his hands. Images of the cave; of the void; of being alone flooded back into him and he gripped his head tighter before he slowly relaxed. He wasn't alone. Even though Loki was an enemy, he had come, he had saved him, he had stayed beside him as Tony had been writhing in pain.

He was too tired to hold out and lost consciousness once more. Thankfully, all that came to him was lovely darkness. A calming silence that went through his entire body and let him rest without dreams, without fear.

-o-o-o-

Light was spilling through the crack under the door when Tony awoke. He pushed himself up and was glad to find that he could stretch—if he was careful—without his body protesting too much. He took his time in stretching out his sore and injured muscles—letting out a few pained gasps at the stretching of more delicate, abused parts of his body—before trying to stand. He stood still, calves pressed against the accommodating softness of the mattress, and waited until his eyes cleared and he was able to see once more. Then he stepped to the door.

It didn't resist, like he had been expecting—he couldn't quite believe that he wasn't a prisoner—and he proceeded into the room.

The light flooding it blinded him momentarily and he stood beside the door, blinking as his head swam and his eyes watered. It reminded him of the many hangovers he had, except twenty times worse. He pressed a palm against one eye, keeping the other closed, until he chanced another look. It made his eyes water and his head pound, but he tried to ignore it.

"How are you feeling?"

Tony looked across the room to where most of the opposing wall was made of windows. It was very impressive and reminded him of his place in Malibu. Loki was standing in front of the windows, back to the man, hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.

He didn't turn around just yet, and as Tony watched him, the man thought he truly did look Godly. The light surrounding Loki's form made the edges of his body blur and glow, and in the light, he could tell that Loki's black hair was more like the back of a raven than anything else; the minute shifts of blue and green and purple were beautiful. And then he wondered why he had just thought that.

"Amazing. Truly," Tony said, rubbing the back of his neck, his shoulder, then let his hand fall to his side. It hurt quite a lot to stretch in such a way. Loki finally turned partially to look at him and Tony swore he smiled, but it was gone so swiftly that he wondered if it was a trick of the light or his suffering head.

"I see," Loki said. "Are you hungry?"

Tony gave a small nod, which made his head spin and so he stopped quickly.

"Well then, Stark, sit down," the God of Mischief said and motioned to the table off to one side. It was made of good, solid wood. Dark. Smooth. Sturdy. It matched the furniture in his room, right down to the green upholstery on the chairs. Tony sat down in one of them gratefully and watched the God move around.

It didn't take long before a plate of basic but healthy and filling food was set in front of Tony and he slowly started to eat, glad for the hearty, simple meal. It also gave him something to focus on. Instead of the blatant fact that he was eating a meal prepared by a past enemy; instead of the fact that he was sitting across the table from said man.

"Where are we?" he asked again, still eating. He looked over at the windows, but all he saw was a horizon, far out, and blue and white. Two different shades. Lighter blue, smears of white, at the top—the sky. Darker blue, nearly green—the ocean.

"Safe," Loki replied. Same answer as before. Safe did not answer where they were and caused Tony to scowl across the table at his enemy. He wanted to know where Loki considered 'safe', after an attack such as that.

"Well, then. Why did you help me? What the hell happened?"

Loki looked over at him, resting his elbows on the table, fingers tangling together elegantly. "You are the only one who can fix it," he told Tony. "Even I can not stop it from happening, because I, ah, lack knowledge."

"Lack knowledge? Am I supposed to believe that?" Tony knew that Loki was more than smart. He might be insane or unstable, but he still had a brilliant mind. What Tony wouldn't do to learn some of the things that Loki knew...

"It requires a specific skill set, which I, sadly, do not have," Loki said. "As quick a learner as I am, I still do not understand machines, computers, and electronics to the extent that you do."

Tony was shocked. A God had just admitted that Tony knew more. It shot directly to his ego, which wasn't needed, but it happened anyway. He was surprised his ego could still be fed with his body and the city, if not the world, being in the state they were in. "Well. I can see your problem then," he said then frowned a little bit. "Why do you need that?"

"The Helatite is an incredibly advanced race. Their technology exceeds most Midgardian machinery, only the basics of which I understand. But I believe you would have a better chance."

"What would the use be anyway? There's no one left," Tony said.

Loki fixed him with his bright green gaze and Tony felt like those eyes could seduce anyone with the aid of nothing else, if the God tried hard enough. As it was, they were hard and shining and unblinking, staring at the genius with what seemed to be growing impatience and Tony couldn't seem to drag his gaze away.

"I would not have saved you, ungrateful human, if there was nothing you could do," Loki replied and his voice cut through the air, making Tony fall silent for a moment. Loki made him feel like a child, being told off for doing something he had been told not to do. The pale man regarded him coolly over his knuckles, eyes narrowed. Then he lowered his hands and his lips curled into a derisive smile. "Are you done with your self-pity? Or shall I leave you alone to wallow, without explaining how—you—can—fix—this." The last five words were enunciated clearly, definitely, and Tony gritted his teeth a little.

The God was mocking him. He had just lost all of his friends, his city, his life, and the man—nay, God—was mocking that. He was sitting before him, calm, smiling, and telling him to calm down and listen. And really, how the hell could Loki fix all this? The city, the whole world, was in a state of chaos. He hadn't seen the state of things yet, but from what he remembered of before Loki had made his entrance, it was apocalyptic. He doubted even Loki had the power to bring back the dead.

"I doubt that you have the power to bring back the dead, so why the hell do you think I could do something about this?" Tony asked, jaw tense. Did this man not have the ability to pity? To give sympathy?

"No, I do not have the power to bring back the dead, nor would I want to if I did. The dead are supposed to remain dead," Loki said. "But I do have a way to try and set this right."

Tony ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and his ribs protested. He set his hand down on the table with a small wince. "Okay. What is it?"

Loki didn't miss the wince but said nothing about it. "I have the power to...send you back, as it were, in time to stop this whole thing from happening."

Tony's jaw dropped. Whatever he was expecting—and he really didn't know what exactly he had been expecting—this wasn't it. "You're trying to tell me you have the ability to travel through time?"

"Humans have such a simple view of time," Loki hissed out, almost speaking to himself. "I can not choose any point in time to just pop back and forth. I am not a time traveler, my dear Anthony. I am merely bending, or folding, time...so to speak."

"Are you saying that the whole A Wrinkle In Time concept is actually correct?" Tony asked him. He had wanted to rebuke Loki on using his full name, but now didn't seem the time.

At this, Loki could not hide the amusement that had quickly overcome the anger on his pale features. "Yes, Ms. L'Engle was not actually that far off with her concepts. You would be surprised how many of your well-known authors, your poets, your artists, have insight into the things that many of you overlook, labeling as fantasy." He gave Tony a minute or so to let this concept to sink in and then continued.

"This process, however, is extremely complicated, however easy it seemed in the writing you were referring to, and takes an enormous amount of energy, on my part. I won't be able to accompany you back. And you will only have one more chance. Time and Space does not like to be toyed with and she will not let me play her more than once."

"So let me get this right. To—to clarify," Tony said. Loki inclined his head, to show he was paying attention. "You're going to send me back in time, to before all of this happened, and I have to stop it from happening?"

"That is correct. Very good, Anthony, I knew there was a reason I chose you for this," Loki said, tone condescending. Tony glowered at him.

"But does that mean that during the whole fight, there was an opening? To stop it all?"

"Yes. But you did not know. And by the time I reached you, it was too late." At this, the God shifted, as if uneasy. As if guilty.

"What was holding you up?" Tony asked coldly. "If you knew this, and knew how to stop it all, then couldn't you have warned us before? Given us time to prepare?"

"No, I could not. I was—ah—preoccupied, you could say."

"With what?" Tony asked, still furious with the man before him. But along with the anger was a burning curiosity. His food sat forgotten before him, growing cold as the two men spoke. But as Loki was quiet, a feeling of unease fell over him and he groped blindly for the glass of water beside his plate and took a few quick sips to cool his dry throat.

"I...was with the Helatite."

Tony nearly choked on his last sip of water. "You—what?"

Loki took a slow breath, and suddenly he looked shaken, nervous. "Against my will, if that makes you feel any better."

"It does a little, yes," Tony said as he set the glass down gently.

Loki's eyes narrowed a little.

"So. Wait. You were with them. In their ship, I guess, through that fucking rip in the sky, and you know how to stop it all from happening? You had to free yourself, so that's why you didn't get to Earth in time," Tony said. "But that would mean that you were...with them before they attacked."

Loki looked at his hands and Tony noticed his knuckles were white with how tight he was gripping them. "Yes. I was."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means that I helped them get here in the first place."