DISCLAIMER: I do not own Marvel, Thor, or the Avengers.

Something I wrote because this particular scene stood out to me for more reasons than one and because the Thor/Loki brother dynamic does things to me.

No Longer

Thor was running.

His thoughts were an indistinguishable mess, a mixture of anger and fear and an aching sadness that only came when he thought of Loki. Banner had just fallen from one of those flying entities Jane had once called helicopters, but he was quite certain the green man would survive—the warrior's skin was tough. But right now, right now he had to find Loki, because he knew, he knew he could talk some sense into him, bring him back. It was not too late, not yet, and it did not matter what anyone else thought.

He stumbled into a passage that appeared just as all the others did—silver, light glinting off the walls and his armor. It reminded him of the Frost Giants and Jotunheim, and war. We are at war, he reminded himself, and he thought of his wise father and the foolishness of his past. He would not be as foolish this time.

He shifted his hammer from one hand to the other—he no longer found it heavy, as he had done so long ago, when he had been imprudent enough to think he could lift it. Then, he had not been worthy, and now he understood.

But understanding was not enough.

He half staggered down yet another dreaded passageway, and hoped with all his might that the door he saw before him was the one. He paused at the entrance, feeling the blood rushing through his veins, thinking of Loki and only Loki.

There he stood, emerging from the glass barrier within which he had been poorly contained.

"No!" His grip tightened on Mjöllnir, and he rushed forward, seeing nothing else but Loki, Loki who had always fought alongside him, Loki who had always admired the color green despite his constant mockery. Oh, how regretted every single word he had ever uttered against his brother. He was certain it was why Loki had lost himself in hatred—if only he had treated him better, as an equal. Perhaps he should have realized that Loki might have wanted to become king as well, and that perhaps Loki wanted to be remembered as someone of significance, just like he had always dreamed of. He remembered when they were but only young competitors, how they had shared every grin, how they had dined together and how Thor had always marveled at his brother's skills in sorcery. It had never occurred to him that at his father's banquets, when everyone requested that he put on a show, Loki was always in the shadows. He had been so caught up in the glory of it all that he had forgotten his brother, and this was the result.

Loki bent downward, and Thor remembered laughing at the stance in his childhood.

And then, Thor passed right through the mere image of Loki, the realization washing over him as he slammed onto the ground, for he had been foolish yet again. He leapt to his feet, and for a moment, he felt trapped, just like he had done when he had awoken in the room of white, before he had met Jane. Jane…how he missed her now. But it was better this way, for she was would not come to harm, and he could not give her the pain of seeing him before he might lose his life to war.

Loki stared back at him through a clear wall of—what was it called? Glass?—and for a short moment he was seized with that pain again, where he feared that his heart would stop and he would crumble to ashes. Dear brother, he thought, why will you not return to us? He thought of his mother, weeping sadly when she thought not that he was awake. He felt anger building up within him with each passing second.

"Are you ever not going to fall for that?" Loki questioned. With his words came a memory of a petty battle. The almighty Thor, very young and miniscule then, had challenged his brother to a fight, as what better to way to show off how strong he was becoming, and how worthy he was to be king? Loki did not want to, at first, and now Thor wondered if he had finally agreed because he desired to reveal his own skills as well.

Just like now, he had rushed head on without thought, and Loki had laughed when he had fallen. It had been so long since he'd heard Loki laugh…

He struck the clear wall—it was certainly not glass, for weren't glass objects easily broken?—before he came to realize what he was doing. The screen cracked, but only so, and Thor stared at it. There was almost nothing the glorious Mjöllnir could not penetrate with one blow. He saw Loki lurch backwards, and then smile when he came to the conclusion that Thor would not escape so easily after all. Thor cringed at that smile. This was not Loki. This was not Loki at all.

Not-Loki chuckled darkly as Thor attempted to regain his breath. He knew not what Loki planned to do with him, but it could not be good.

"The humans think us immortal," he began, his green cloak billowing behind him as he walked. He stopped beside a metal box of some kind, a device Thor could not find any solace in. Loki looked up, and their eyes met. This was not Loki. "Shall we test that?"

Thor watched with growing despair as his brother bent down over the confusing array of buttons, those similar to a "vending machine," from which Darcy had amazingly procured a bottle of water for him when he proclaimed he was thirsty. He was quite sure this was not of the like.

Surely, Loki didn't mean to—

The man that had accompanied his brother cried out, and Thor's head jerked towards an additional doorway. His comrade, Phil Coulson, stood bearing a large weapon that he seemed to carry at ease.

"Move away please."

Please? Was that not a term of endearment? Manners, as Jane had hissed at him often. He still was not quite sure what it meant.

Thor watched Loki freeze, automatically drawing himself away from the vexing panel. His eyes moved from Phil to Loki. He felt frustrated that he could not escape from this prison, but if his dear comrade Phil managed to release him, he would get Loki, and he would knock some sense into his brother's head. Because this was not Loki.

Phil advanced, and Thor admired his bravery, for every other mere human trembled before what Loki had become. Then again, he had always admired the man's tendency to keep his expression serene, an ability fit for a king. "You like this? We started working on a prototype after you sent the destroyer." Ah, how smart of them, thought Thor. He watched as Agent Coulson continued to step towards Loki, who seemed, at last, to know that he could not win. Perhaps now, Thor could be released, and he and his brother could come to terms. Thank you, Agent Phil Coulson, thought Thor.

Phil Coulson was shrugging. "Even I don't know what it does," he admitted. Thor found the corner of his mouth twitching, almost a smile. Coulson's eyes were adamant as he pressed a crevice in the weapon, causing it to light up. Thor braced himself for what would come next. He was already forming words in his mind, for he knew it would be hard to bring the real Loki, his brother Loki, back from the claws of darkness. Nevertheless, he knew he was the one who would be able to do it.

And then all went wrong.

He did not see his brother appear behind his friend, for then, he could have warned him, could have saved him, even. But he did not, and even as the blade was piercing Coulson's skin, Thor saw the treacherous image of his brother vanish. He cried out in denial, fist connecting with the dreaded wall that would not break, knowing he was helpless and weak, that he had failed. He had vowed that he would not be foolish, but that was all he was, and all he would be. He wanted to scream, but more than that, he wanted to be able to break through this barrier that stopped him from saving his comrade, from stopping a death that was now imminent. He did not want to think about why, or the fact that Loki may be too far down the path of destruction to call back. His gaze never left Coulson's face, and he realized he was breathing heavily, anger and the vulnerability combating each other furiously.

His eyes finally left those of his comrade's, moving to Loki, and he wondered if his brother could see the hatred in his eyes, and if it affected him at all. What had become of that boy who had always attempted to cease battle, to talk sense into his thoughtless antics? Where was Loki, his dear brother, the one who he had been raised with? Thor did not care that they did not share blood, and did not understand why Loki loathed it so.

Loki was smiling the smile that was not his as he moved to the object of power again. It was true then. Loki did not care for him, not anymore, not like he once had. Thor saw the ground open up like a chasm beneath him, and all at once, he knew what Loki planned to do. In one last moment of panic, of desperation, and the little hope that was left, as he found himself backing away and turning to look at the ground far, far below. Could Loki see the fear in his eyes? Did he marvel at the weakness of the great Thor? Or had he always craved for this day—a day he would finally surpass him? It occurred to Thor that years ago, he might have agreed that Loki's tranquil demeanor was close to unnerving in battle, and that his brother may have the head to rule, but he was not so sure anymore.

This was not Loki.

The man before him raised his hand, and for a small period of time it hovered there. Did he hesitate? And then Loki turned to look at him.

And in that last second, where he looked into his brother's eyes, he knew he was daring him, daring him to release the small bastion of containment that would undoubtedly lead to his demise. Would you be happy then, Loki? He thought. Would my death offer you pleasure?

And all Thor got in return was the look of childish amusement on Loki's face, even as he knew that he his brother would most likely die, the only person left who still, perhaps, had an ounce of faith that his Loki would return.

But alas, it was not to be. His brother's mind and soul were out of his reach. He recalled the lovely Jane telling him, that there was once a time when she was young and alone, that she felt empty. Not unlike many other things, Thor did not understand, for how could anyone feel truly empty, when there was so much to live and battle for? But for once, Jane had not explained it to him. She was always patient, always kind. Even now he craved for the gentle touch of her hands, for her words that reassured him like none others did, because for the very first time in his life, the almighty Thor felt empty.

He closed his eyes. He heard the sound of his brother's fingers connecting with the surface of the panel, and for a moment, all was still.

And the ground fell away beneath him.