The hands that held Loki tightly through the makeshift-bifrost weren't enough to keep him on his feet when they landed, and he was on the ground in seconds, trying to keep the contents of his stomach down. He'd still been open psychically, at least partially, he'd felt all those souls blink out of existence. (there would be no limp hands and dead eyes for most of them, only fire and maybe bones)

Someone was pulling him up, but he didn't want to move. Strong arms, warmth. Someone carrying him indoors and setting him somewhere soft. Was the world spinning? Maybe it was just him.

Sit up, the voice of reason whispered. You are showing weakness. But someone was pulling a blanket over him, and his disobedient hands were already drawing it tighter around his body. People were talking (pay attention, idiot) but it was all he could do to pick out one voice at a time.

"What's wrong with him?"

"-stop it, take that off"

"Tony?"

"Nick Fury"

"Barely got out, I don't know if-"

"Loki."

That was what did it, the sound of his own name spoken in a familiar voice. He pushed against the pleading of his every atom and opened his eyes.

"Thank the gods. Loki, can you hear me?" Thor was there, crouched in front of him in the middle of Tony's penthouse living room. He was grimy and looked exhausted as all hell, but it was him. Safe. Alive.

"I can hear you." Loki nearly winced at the sound of his own voice. He sounded like someone half dead, weak and hoarse. "I'm ok," he added in an attempt to offset the effect. It didn't really work.

"Are you hurt? You collapsed as soon as we landed. Stark thought it best to bring you inside before trying to talk, but when you would not open your eyes…" He trailed off, but his eyes stared at Loki with so much fear. He remembered, with another agonizing twinge of guilt, how his brother had already lost him once that day.

"I'm sorry." It was all he could think of to say.

Thor only shook his head in reply.

"Hey, look who's still kicking." Loki looked up to see Tony flash him a shaky smile. Pepper was standing behind him, but a quick glance around told him the room was otherwise empty. What were you expecting?

"That- The bifrost thing, I started working on it the moment I got home. Used tech off the chitauri bodies, mostly. The bomb was... well, it's complicated. It probably had the stopping power of a small nuke, but with a lot more dark matter involved. I didn't really have time to test it, but I guess it worked." He shrugged, picking up his helmet to scrape at a paint chip. "I mean, we're not dead yet so I assume he didn't make it out."

Loki shook his head (but stopped quickly when it made the room spin) "He's not dead." Thanos wouldn't have been killed so easily.

"Oh." Tony set the helmet down. For once, he didn't seem to have anything to say. Loki used the brief silence to force himself to sit up, still clutching the blanket around himself as if he expected a chitauri to jump out from behind the counter. He looked around again, taking in the range of emotions around the room- it was mostly exhaustion. He understood. The weight in his chest that had yet to stop growing was only adding to the physical toll his body had been put through. Magic wasn't easy; running was worse.

Pepper's uneasy glance over to the door reminded him of the question he knew had to be asked.

"Is… is anybody else here?"He hadn't meant to hesitate but the words pulled at his tongue in fear- he didn't want to hear the answer.

"No, nobody else, just-" Tony's eyes widened as he realized what was actually being asked. "No, no. No. They're not here, but they're all ok. They're all fine. Just recovering."

If Loki's heart had had the energy to speed up, it would have then. His gut twisted in the way only an earth-shattering shock can cause, all the feeling in his body rushing to his core and leaving his limbs numb.

"They're ok?" Even he could hear the suppressed tears in his voice.

Tony ran his fingers through his hair, eyes glancing off to the side in obvious discomfort. "Probably shoulda led with that, huh? Yeah. Thanos probably told you otherwise, but they're all fine. In fact-" He snapped his fingers several times in the air- "Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"All of the Avengers. Call 'em. Tell them to get over here."

"Right away, sir."

"Alright. Not to be rude, but you both look like hell. It's your call, but I personally will be having coffee and a shower before everyone gets here. And Loki-" He looked over, mouth twitching momentarily into something like sympathy. "Don't beat yourself up. You did great today, saved all our asses. And before, wasn't your fault." The brief display of emotion was quickly offset with a nod and a hasty exit. Pepper gave him a brief look of apology before following, leaving an uncomfortable atmosphere behind.

Thor's eyes were still on him, and now that they were alone the stare was starting to become too much. Loki, if he could do nothing else, could read people, and he practically see the hurt and worry dripping off his brother. Not that he was a particularly difficult person to read. Suppressing a sigh, he dropped the blanket and unclenched his hands. Be vulnerable, be blunt, and he will forgive you.

"I'm sorry I tricked you, Thor. I couldn't let Thanos have what he needed from you, he was already too strong, I couldn't leave him with anything to hold over you."

The room fell silent again, and for a few agonizing seconds Loki thought his brother wouldn't reply at all. Then-

"I'm not upset because you tricked me."

That threw him. He could see the emotions as clearly as if they had been spoken aloud. Thor was deeply troubled, he was shaken, and it was directed at his little brother. "Then why?"

Another tense silence.

"I won't pretend… it was unpleasant to see you that way. I thought I had lost you again. But you are safe now, so that is not the problem." Thor reached over to take his brother's hand, holding it gently with both of his. (Gods, he had almost forgotten how uncomfortably direct his brother was) "Loki, we both know what would have happened if nothing had gone awry with your plan. Your death by your own hand might have been an illusion, but the end result would have been the same."

The feeling from before, the sense that death was the only recompense he could possibly make, lifted its head somewhere in the back of his mind. Of course, he didn't voice it. "You would have done the same thing."

"Yes, but I am not a child."

"Well, neither am I." He could feel how foolish it sounded in his pre-pubescent voice, but it was true, and he met Thor's gaze with sudden anger. "I'm Loki, just as I was before. Maybe my ideals got tossed around a bit with all the dying and magic, but that does not make me a different person. I have his memories- my memories. All that's changed is my perspective on all of it."

"I don't think-"

"Well I do. When a caterpillar turns into a moth, it's still an insect. It retains its thoughts and knowledge, even if its habits change." His free hand twitched against the fabric of the couch, but he forced himself to be still and wait. Thor was looking at him so goddam intensely, probably thinking the same things everyone had when he'd first come back, probably thinking he'd have to get rid of him now-

"Is that the reason you were ready to die?"

Loki flinched at the words, more direct than anything he ever wanted said to him. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

His fingernails dug into his palm. "It doesn't. I thought they were dead, I thought I'd killed them. It's over now, they're fine and it's over." His voice was ready to break, he could hear it, already weak and now being pushed on by the tears welling up from the anger and the fear that he had thought he had left behind. "I didn't-"

And then Thor was there, his arms already around him and pulling him into a crushing hug. Loki pressed his face into his brother's shoulder, eyes screwed shut like it would help him fight back the weakness that he couldn't seem to shake.

"I would have wanted them dead. Before all this."

"Do you now?"

"No. Never."

"Then it does not matter what he- you- would have wanted." Thor moved away just enough to look his younger brother in the face. "Becoming someone new and better while still keeping who you were before is entirely possible. I would know." He patted Loki's shoulder. His hands were heavy; the gesture wasn't quite comforting enough to make up for the strain it put on his sore back.

"Just know that you can talk to me if you ever need to. I am sure my teammates would say the same, but as I knew you before, I may have some perspective they do not."

Loki nodded, and Thor's serious demeanor finally melted.

"Stark was right. We both look a mess. Do you remember where your room is?"

Loki did, and he let Thor tail him to it before he went to go find something other than his armor to wear. ("Yes, I'll be fine, go.")

The room was exactly as he'd left it, down to the hoodie he'd left on the floor by the bed. He picked out jeans and a soft sweater to swap out for his torn and filthy clothes. He knew he should probably shower, but the thought of the effort it would take drained him. Instead, he washed the grime off his face and hands in the sink. The mirror here was much cleaner than the one in his prison cell had been. He remembered looking into his own eyes, enchanted to look empty and dead. He thought of the Chitauri whose eyes he had made to look that way with no magic at all. Despite the sweater, chills ran down his arms. Whatever Thor said, some of the guilt couldn't be pinned on his past self.

He looked again- directly this time, not averting his eyes like he always had before- and for the first time in weeks really looked at the person he saw. Somewhere in the centuries of memories that he'd recovered, there was a face just like this one. Young and scrawny, with eyes that were bright and curious, if a bit sad. That boy had grown up into a monster, but he wouldn't have wanted it that way. And maybe, at least at the very end, the monster didn't want it either.

His hair hadn't been washed in a week, so he pulled a cap over it. His hands he shoved into his hoodie pocket, and straightened his spine as much as his aching muscles would let him.

"Sir, you are wanted in the living room."

"Thanks, JARVIS."

When he'd first arrived on Midgard, walking into a full living room would have made him turn back immediately. But now, such a short time later, even the bruises and crutched propped against the couch couldn't dampen the overwhelming relief he felt on seeing their faces. Everyone- even Clint, the owner of the crutches- got up to hug him and tell him how worried they had been, how happy they were to see him. He didn't need psychic powers to know they meant it.

For the first time, there was nothing contrived about his smile.

A/N

Thank you all so much for reading.