A/N: Another chapter that took way too long to finish. This seems to be a pattern with this story.

Oh well, not chapter will be the last. Thanks so much for sticking with it and I hope you all enjoy!

Erik looked at Bucky.

Bucky looked at Erik.

Erik sipped his coffee.

Bucky twiddled his thumbs.

They were alone together for the first time in three days. Jane and Darcy had some errands to run, and they trusted the men to make nice with each other for the long sixty minutes to come. Bucky was starting to think Jane was a bit too optimistic.

The first day he met Erik and Darcy was one of the longest in recent memory. Erik frequently dragged Jane away to grill her about what was going on. Darcy, meanwhile, stayed close to him, asking enough questions to write a biography on him. At least she could've if he deign to give her more than three-word answers.

"Where are you from?"

"Brooklyn."

"How did you get here?"

"Bus."

"Why New Mexico?"

"Felt like it."

"Why the gloves?"

"Felt like it."

"How much can you bench?"

"...what?"

As the afternoon wore on, they had a tense lunch and a decidedly brief dinner. Jane stuck by Bucky's side as much as possible. She sat between him and Erik at the kitchen table. If Erik made a face or a passive-aggressive remark, Jane took Bucky's hand and immediately changed the subject. By the time the sun had set, it was almost a routine.

"I was telling Bucky about my research yesterday," she said over coffee after a meal of gourmet gas station burritos. "I've made a lot of progress since we last spoke, Erik. Do you want to see my data?"

"Of course," Erik said, shooting a quick glance at Bucky. "To be honest, I don't know how you do it, Jane. There can't be a lot of people out here to talk astrophysics with."

Bucky frowned. "I don't know, I think I've been doing okay. Jane's a good teacher and I'm happy to learn."

"Hm, I see," Erik muttered.

Before Bucky could respond, Darcy suddenly remembered this great story from Florida she absolutely had to tell everyone right now. It went on for an hour until Erik made an excuse to go to bed. Bucky would have to buy Darcy a drink one day.

So much frenetic action and noise made his head hurt. It wasn't just Erik's words, it was the looks he'd send Bucky's way whenever Jane wasn't looking. The suspicion and skepticism so strong, it seemed to physically slap Bucky across the face with how unworthy he was. The worst part was that he couldn't blame Erik for feeling that way.

After an uneventful breakfast, during which Jane distracted her friends with talk of inane town gossip while squeezing his knee under the table, Darcy produced a list of essential processed treats they needed at 7-11. When Jane tried to protest, Darcy put on a sad, pleading face, and Bucky could practically feel his soulmate's resolve crumbling.

"She's good at that," he'd muttered, shielding his eyes just in case he wasn't immune either.

"She's going to be one hell of a politician someday," Jane had muttered back. "Don't worry, she'll get bored and drop it eventually."

"She can't do it herself?"

"I don't trust her with my credit card."

"That's fair," Bucky said, ignoring the growing heat on the back of his head. He couldn't see Erik, but he knew exactly where the man was. "You can go if you want to. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Jane asked.

Bucky gave her a rough approximation of the smile he once used to charm the pants off the girls in the dance hall. To his surprise, she actually blushed. 'Heh. I still got it.' "Don't worry about me, doll. I've dealt with a lot worse than an overprotective godfather."

It took a bit more convincing, but Jane finally grabbed her wallet and headed out the door with Darcy, promising to be back in an hour. That was fifteen minutes ago. Erik and Bucky spent it staring at each other.

One of them was going to have to speak first. Bucky knew that. It was probably going to be him. Bucky knew that, too.

His past was a marked Before and After. Trying to reconcile the Bucky Barnes he once was with the Bucky he was now was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Yet sometimes, when he looked in the mirror a certain way or laughed at a particular word he found amusing, he could see glimpses of his old self coming through. As if the parts of himself he thought long dead were slowly coming back to life. The Bucky Before never liked to sit quietly for too long. Especially when he was bored. Five minutes was his limit. After that, he had to move or he'd surely lose his mind. It made for a difficult time at church every Sunday. His parents used to scold him for his bad behavior, pointing out more demure and obedient children as examples he should follow.

"Why can't you be more like your friend Elmer?" his mother would ask, which showed how much she knew because Elmer was a brown-nosing little tattletale and would never be Bucky's friend.

The Bucky In Between was not loud. He did not get bored. He did not fidget or moan or sneak away to play ball with his friends when Mom wanted him to wash the dishes. If he wasn't given an order, the Winter Soldier was a simple tool waiting to be used. Barely more than a statue capable of taking in oxygen and expelling carbon dioxide. An object.

A nothing.

Now this new Bucky, the After Bucky, didn't know how to sit and make conversation with a man who had already decided he wasn't good enough for his little girl. Bucky's body remained frozen in place like the Soldier's, but his tongue swelled in his mouth, aching to be let loose, just like a certain little boy he once knew.

"I…" it came out like a sigh and hung in the air, dragging on for far too long until his voice gave out.

Erik frowned. "Where did you say you were from, Bucky?"

He spoke the name like he didn't believe it was real. Bucky swallowed. "Brooklyn, sir."

The man, though decades younger than Bucky, carried with him an air of authority that reminded him of Colonel Phillips. "You're a long way from New York."

"I needed a change of scenery," Bucky said. "I was just passing through when I ran into Jane. Just good luck, I guess."

"Hmm…" Erik pursed his lips. "I'm surprised you made it to Puente Antiguo of all places. It's a bit out of the way, isn't it?"

Bucky shrugged. "I went where the bus took me."

"I didn't know the buses came out this far."

It was like one of those 'debriefings' he'd have to go through after every mission. They'd sit him down in a windowless room. A man he'd never see again would walk in and ask a few questions to make sure the soldier's brain was not so fried as to hinder his abilities, but just fried enough that he was still useful to them.

At least now he could get up and leave whenever he wanted, but it wasn't much consolation.

The minutes ticked by and Jane and Darcy did not reappear to break the tension or distract them with the promise of greasy fast food lunch. Bucky thought about looking through Jane's bookshelf for something to read. It would give him something to do other than stare Erik Selvig down. The other man had yet to blink once, but neither had Bucky.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable," Erik said.

'It sure feels like you are.' "No, sir, of course not."

"But when Jane told me she had a surprise, you're not exactly what I was expecting." He crossed one leg over the other. "Having just one soulmate is a miracle for some, let alone two. Most people who have a mark must accept the fact that it probably won't mean anything. The world's not as small as we think, and with the population increasing every day, you're more likely to one day watch your mark disappear than you are to hear those words."

As he spoke, he rubbed his forearm absently. The skin was bare save for hair and a few age spots, but Bucky had a feeling that wasn't always the case.

"I never expected to meet Jane," Bucky said, clenching a fist, "but now that I've found her, I want to make this work, even if we never find our third."

"I understand that," Erik said. "I just hope you understand that Jane is like a daughter to me. I only want what's best for her, and if I feel like something- or someone- isn't in her best interest, I'm not going to stay quiet."

The way he looked at Bucky, from his worn shoes and gloved hands to his unshaven face and long hair, might've been worse than the handlers. Bucky's body unstuck itself and he could move again, but all he did was drop his head like some overwhelming force was dragging him down.

"I do, sir."

"Holy frick on a stick, Jane!"

The only thing surprising about Darcy's exclamation in the middle of a convenience store with three cowboy looking guys and one mother with a kid now staring at them was how long it took her to make it. Jane browsed the shelves for mini-pretzels and some sour cream and onion chips for Bucky (they had become his favorite snack), taking her time in choosing just the right brands. While she was at it, she might pick up some energy drinks, too.

"Uh, hello, Jane?" Darcy got right up in her face. "Earth to Jane. We need to talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" Jane asked. "I already told you what happened. What, do you think I'm withholding details?"

"As a matter of fact, I do!"

Rolling her eyes, Jane moved around Darcy to the drink aisle. She nodded at the mother, who had lost interest in their conversation and was now trying to convince her skeptical son that three candy bars before dinner would give him a stomachache. Darcy nearly bumped into her running after Jane.

"These things do happen, you know," Jane said. "I didn't come here expecting my soulmate to just walk right up to me."

"But he did walk up to you," Darcy said. "Almost like he knew you'd be here."

"He was just passing through."

"Passing through Puente Antiguo? A place I'm pretty sure is just a little black dot on Google Earth? Oh yeah, that sounds believable!"

Jane snorted. "Right, clearly he's a spy planted by the government to steal my research and capitalize on the potential for space travel."

"Now you're getting it," Darcy winked at her as they made their way to the counter. "It's his face that gives him away."

"His face?"

"He's too hot," Darcy opined. "No normal human should ever have cheekbones like that. His eyes are like sapphires, and then there's his shoulders. Damn, he's broad. Always wearing that stupid jacket, though. Does he have a six-pack? I bet he has a six-pack."

"This is sounding less like a conspiracy theory and more like you ogling."

"Hey, I can appreciate the eye candy while I foil his evil plans," Darcy said. "Seriously though, godlike beauty aside, how'd he even get here? I don't buy that bus story for a second, but I haven't seen another car outside."

"It's nothing to worry about, Darcy," Jane said. She tried to read the labels on the mints and candy bars lined up on the shelves, but the constant buzzing in her ear made it difficult. "Bucky and I have already discussed this. I know who he is and I trust him. That's all you need to know."

"Is it really?" Darcy asked, folding her arms. "Because if you think Erik's not putting him through the wringer right now, you're kidding yourself."

"That's fine," Jane said firmly. "If Erik doesn't like Bucky, he'll just have to learn to deal with it, because Bucky's not going anywhere."

"Unless he really is a spy and he'll be sneaking off in his private helicopter with all your equipment while you sleep," Darcy waved her hands in Jane's face. "Hopefully he'll have the decency to pound you into the mattress a couple of times first."

The mother, standing behind them in line, covered her son's ears and shot Darcy a glare.

"Look, I know this is unexpected and we're going to have to make some changes around here, but I promise you, Bucky is not the kind of person who would abandon someone he cares about."

"That's a lot of faith to have in someone after a week, even a soulmate."

"Let's just say the first few nights were eye-opening." Jane stood up a little straighter. "Bucky's story is his to tell, so just give him space, and he'll talk about it when he's ready."

It was her turn to check out and she dropped her selections on the counter for the bored teenage cashier to scan. She was fishing through her wallet for her card when the doors opened and two men in movie monster masks rushed in with guns drawn.

"All right, everyone down on the floor! This is a robbery!"

Everyone did as they were told. Jane's cards and papers went everywhere as her wallet flew out of her hand.

"Oh wow," Darcy mumbled, her face half crushed into the linoleum. "I did not see that one coming."

A police car raced down the street, sirens blaring. Erik watched it disappear around the corner and then back to his newspaper. "Kids tagging dumpsters again."

Bucky didn't share his nonchalance. The car had come and gone so fast, and it was too far away for even his enhanced ears to pick up more than static on the radio. What drove him to his feet was a blinding rush of fear in the pit of his stomach. Like the voice that had guided him from Russia to New Mexico.

"Jane…" he whispered.

Erik looked up. "What?"

Bucky took off. He threw open the door, careful not to rip it off its hinges. In the street, he showed no such restraint, running at top speed until he'd overtaken the police car. Some people stopped to stare at him. He had no idea where he was going, but he let his feet guide him to the 7-11. Inside were two masked figures, both armed with rifles. One stood guard by the windows. The other went for the register. He tripped over someone on the ground and aimed his gun at her head.

Jane.

The doors had been bolted, so Bucky pulled them out of the wall and tossed them over his shoulder. Bowling over the first robber, he grabbed the second by the collar and held him high off the ground. The gun fell from his hands and Bucky kicked it away.

"P-please don't hurt me!" The man- no, boy- squeaked. "Please! I wasn't gonna shoot anyone. I just wanted the money."

Bucky growled and threw him on the counter, knocking over display cases full of candy and scratch-off cards. The mask slipped off the boy's face. It was Ricky, and the difference between the wannabe tough guy who'd accosted him in the streets and the sniveling child in his hands was stark.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bucky demanded.

"I- I thought I'd look cool," he sobbed, tears and mucus flowing. "My friends dared me to."

"So because of that you thought you could threaten innocent people and get away with it?"

"I'm sorry! Please, I'm sorry! Don't tell my mom."

Ricky dissolved into a hysterical mess. At the door, his friend was dazed and unable to move. No need to worry about him anymore. Bucky sighed and let Ricky drop. The cops had just arrived and took in the scene with a mixture of awe and confusion. They could deal with these idiots. Bucky had more important things to do.

He kneeled at Jane's side, helping her sit up. She was pale and shaking, hair clinging to her face and getting in her mouth, but there were no injuries that he could see. It didn't stop his racing heart as he clung to her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Jane croaked, pressing her face into his shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

Bucky didn't realize what she meant by that until something moved in his peripheral vision. The other would-be hostages had composed themselves, and all eyes were on Bucky. A little boy pointed at him while pulling on his mother's shirt, but she was already looking.

Darcy's mouth fell open. "What the actual fuck?"

Bucky didn't have a clue what she meant until he turned and saw a shredded glove mixed in with shards of glass. His stomach sank. Curling his metal fingers, he found no resistance. There was only the heat of Jane's body through her shirt and the unobstructed whine of turning gears.

"That's metal," one of the three men holed up by the drink aisle exclaimed. "Boy, your hand is made of metal!"

"I…" Bucky looked at Jane, who snuggled closer as if to protect him. "Yeah, it is…"

"Are you all metal?" the man asked.

"No, just…" Bucky motioned weakly at his arm.

"Oh damn, his whole arm," said the second man. "That must've hurt."

"Y- yeah, kind of…"

"Is that how you ripped the door off? That thing must be strong."

"Well-"

"Can you shoot rockets?" the little boy piped up as his mother tried to silence him. "Do rockets come out of it?"

"Bobby, you can't ask people questions like that. It's impolite."

"Uh… no, it doesn't," Bucky gulped.

"What about lasers?"

"No, I can't do that either."

"Bombs?"

"No…"

The boy put his hands on his hips. "Well, that's boring."

"Show some respect, kid," one of the three men said. "He just saved all our asses."

Bucky would've said that was an exaggeration, that Ricky and his dumbass friend were more likely to piss themselves than pull the trigger, but he couldn't get the words out. "I'm… sorry about the door."

The girl behind the counter poked her head up now that it was safe. "I honestly don't get paid enough to care. I'll just tell my boss the wind did it."

"Yeah, we aren't really paid enough to care either," said the cop as his partner cuffed Ricky.

A smattering of nervous chatter went through the store as Bucky and Jane helped each other to their feet. He couldn't let her go just yet, though fear of accidentally bruising her niggled in the back of his mind. They shared a look as the crowd gathered, the same thought passing through them.

There was no coming back from this.

Erik took the news… surprisingly well.

Bucky rolled up his sleeve and Erik insisted on getting his reading glasses because he had to be seeing things. After putting them on, he took them off again to clean them several times. When they were absolutely spotless and there was still a hunk of metal attached to Bucky's shoulder, he muttered something about needing air and then stumbled down the street toward the bar.

So yeah, it went well.

"At least now you don't have to wear this all the time," Jane said, holding his patchwork jacket in one hand as he played with the fraying ends of his faded black shirt. "Though we might want to take a trip to the secondhand store tomorrow. Better than being stuck with my ex's old things."

"I am so sorry, Jane." He ran his hands over his face. "I completely fucked up."

"What are you talking about?" Jane kneeled before him, taking his hands. "You didn't do anything wrong, Bucky."

"But I should've… I don't know, held back a little." He flexed his now bare fingers with a grimace. "Or at least made sure my stupid gloves were on right."

"You did exactly what you've always done," Jane said, lifting his chin. "You protected me, and you protected all those people. That's what you got into the army for, isn't it?"

"That's what I wanted to do." He rubbed the arm mournfully. "It didn't exactly work out that way."

His nails dug into the cracks between the plates as if he could rip them off and find flesh and bone underneath. The star was red like blood and bore countless scratch marks. Jane touched it gently. It was a painful reminder of the years he'd lost, and just looking at it made her want to cry.

"Hey come on," she said, taking his metal hand. "I told you, we're in this together. That means wherever you go, I'm with you."

Bucky stared at her wide-eyed. "You'd leave Puente Antiguo? But your research-"

"It doesn't matter where we are," Jane chuckled as her eyes watered. "The stars will always be there."

As she kissed the tips of his fingers, he pulled her into his lap, holding her close and breathing in her scent. If only this could be the answer to all his problems, he'd never let her go again.

"Thank you, Jane," he breathed.

"Thank you, Bucky," Jane replied.

It was a beautiful moment that would've been much nicer without Darcy sitting across from them with the war heroes book in her lap, gawking at Bucky.

"Are you immortal?" she asked.

Bucky sighed. "No."

"Are you an alien?"

"No."

"Are you a vampire?"

"No."

"If you were, would you bite me?"

"What the fu- NO!"

And as ridiculous as it was, Jane couldn't help but laugh.

When the sun had set, Erik still wasn't back. Jane threw on her coat, ready to walk to the bar and coax her old friend home with the promise of some hot water and a nice warm couch to sleep on. Somewhere between setting her system to automatic and pocketing her keys, Bucky fell into step beside her. They walked down the street hand in hand like they were a perfectly normal sight. That Jane had chosen to walk on his left side and hold his left hand was not preferable, but not altogether unexpected.

"People are staring," Bucky said as a man walking past them failed to stop staring in time to avoid hitting a lamppost.

"And they're seeing a couple walking down the street," she said.

"You have the second most ridiculous level of optimism I have ever seen."

Jane kissed his cheek. "With you around, how could I not?"

He let go of her hand only to put his arm around her. It dragged his sleeve up a few inches, exposing more of his silvery wrist. Though his knee-jerk reaction was to melt into the shadows, he resisted it. There were few people out and about looking for something to do in this endless desert. Bucky smiled pleasantly at all of them, the way his childhood and adolescence in Brooklyn had taught him not to do. A few smiled back. One couple pointed at him and whispered. Every time they walked under a light, Bucky felt a million eyes on him.

But it was okay. He could handle this.

The bar was a small brick building on the edge of town. It had a sign above the door, but years of wear and tear in the oppressive summer heat had worn the name away, leaving only the sad single word 'bar' in chipping blue paint. Now, it was simply 'The Bar' in the eyes of the locals. If the owner was bothered, she never let it on. So long as the place was packed every night, what did she care what they called it?

Music blasted through the cracked open windows. Something vaguely countryish Bucky didn't recognize. It was hard to say with all the talking and laughing of seemingly hundreds of people inside. Long ago, he'd been taught to block out background noise and focus only on the mission. Maybe one day, he'd remember how.

For now, he listened to some guy complain to his buddy Jeff about his nagging wife and a bunch of men and women slurring their congratulations to Oscar for 'finally sticking it to that shithead project manager.'

Jane rubbed his arm. "Are you okay?"

She'd been asking him that a lot lately. "Fine."

"Are you sure?"

No, he wasn't. Not at all.

But he had to be.

He gripped the handle and pulled the door open. Inside was around thirty people. The bar was lined with men in trucker hats guzzling beer and yelling at the mounted TVs. A group of women in the corner chatted over martinis. Erik had his head down at a table near the jukebox. The drink in front of him was nearly full. It probably wasn't his first.

The floorboards creaked under Bucky's weight. Even over the music and talking, it was far too loud. His ears ached with every whine of flimsy wood. He reached for Jane's hand, but made a fist instead of taking it.

It started with the bartender. He happened to glance up while nodding his head to one of the drunk guy's rambling and locked eyes with Bucky. He blinked at the newcomer before his eyes went wide and he nearly dropped the shot glass he was cleaning. One of the truckers noticed him staring and followed his eyes. Then his friends looked. Then the women in the back started shushing each other. One by one, every single patron of the bar looked at Bucky until the once lively tavern went dead silent.

Music continued to play, much softer than before. That might have just been Bucky's senses dulling. He heard nothing except his own thunderous steps and two people in the far left corner whispering.

"That's him, right? That's the guy."

"From the robbery?"

"It's gotta be."

Erik was the only one not looking. Either he was too far gone or he just didn't care to greet them. Bucky walked across the bar ahead of Jane, taking the brunt of the stares. The number of eyes on him felt insurmountable, but he pushed through the cloud of agitation gripping his heart.

The next thing he heard was not a whisper or a cry of fear, or even a hateful jeer from some backwards puritan type hoping to burn the witch. It came from a random guy on the other side of the bar. He had a bushy gray mustache and silver bolo tie hanging over a large beer belly. As he looked at Bucky, a smile broke out on his wrinkled face, and then he brought his hands together.

Another person clapped, too. Then another. Then two more. They got to their feet and others followed. Not one by one this time. More like ten by ten.

Everyone was standing and applauding. They whistled and cheered and stomped their feet. Bucky was frozen in the middle of the room, his entire world spinning. Jane clung to him, or maybe he clung to her.

"Great job today!" One guy said.

"You really showed those punks what for," said another.

"Hey bartender, let's have a drink for the new guy on me!"

Similar praise and well-wishes were thrown at him from all directions. He didn't even know where to look anymore, so he settled for Jane, her brilliant smile and shining eyes as she hugged him.

"You're a hero," she whispered.

And even without the roar of agreement from the crowd, Bucky would've believed her, just because she said it first.

Life in Puente Antiguo was much easier for James Barnes after that day.

Of course, nothing happens overnight. It was still a few weeks before he was comfortable going out on his own with a short-sleeved shirt on. The harsh summer weather didn't allow him to bundle up. Even at night, his enhanced metabolism left him too warm for more than a thin windbreaker. Soon his old coat went into the closet, not to be seen or heard of again until winter.

That didn't mean he could simply hide inside. Though Jane would never complain about missing work to walk around town with him, Bucky knew she was running herself ragged. Between tracking storms and helping him become acclimated to modern times, it was a wonder she had time for anything else. Were it not for Bucky physically carrying her to her trailer any time she worked past one in the morning, she probably wouldn't sleep.

So one day, when they were out of milk and frozen pizzas, he offered to go to the store himself.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jane asked, holding her shopping list to her chest.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "You think I can't?"

That was the end of the argument. Bucky won before it even began, and so off he went with Jane's shopping list and a roll of bills in his pocket. The grocery store, a shoebox stuffed into an aging apartment complex, was fairly busy. A young father was weighing produce while trying to calm his crying baby; an elderly woman examined the canned goods; two men argued with the clerk over the price of a lottery ticket.

All of them stopped to say hello to Bucky. One man shook his hand. A little boy asked for his autograph.

None of them looked at his arm.

It was the start of a new chapter for Bucky. He might've thought meeting Jane and winning her heart was the final step in re-taking his life, but it was only the first. Now he lived in an isolated desert town with a population of barely one thousand. One thousand people whose names he didn't yet know, but who all knew his. From then on, every time he set foot outside of the lab was the same.

"Good morning, Bucky!"

"Hey there, Buck. Looking good."

"So Mr. Barnes, right? I'm kind of a hobbyist robotics engineer and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about that arm of yours-"

That last one, Bucky soon learned, was Derek. Most days, he could be found in the library reading science fiction books. He also never seemed to understand that Bucky blatantly ignoring all his questions was a silent request to stop and not an invitation to continue.

As much of a nuisance as the boy could be, his enthusiasm was a testament to how the entire village of Puente Antiguo functioned. A seemingly invincible man with an arm made of metal was a novelty for all of five minutes. After that, he was just another citizen, if a very popular one.

Jane had her own theories. "I guess when you live so close to Area 51 and all those alleged UFO sightings, you learn to take things as they come."

"Or everyone here is nuts," Darcy suggested. "Could be that, too."

Whatever the case, Bucky couldn't say he minded the attention. On the contrary, as the days went by and he ventured further and further from the safety of the lab, he found many people perfectly happy to talk to him and drink with him and treat him like any other person.

Like a friend.

As the days turned to weeks, Bucky grew restless cooped up in the lab every only TV and Darcy's incessant chatter to distract him while Jane worked. He needed something else to do. He needed to feel useful. As proud as he was of Jane and all of her accomplishments, he was just old-fashioned enough that he couldn't abide by her as the sole breadwinner. As soon as he felt able to, he was out on the town looking for work.

If the army had done one thing right, it was granting him a plethora of practical skills any employer would kill to find on a resume. There wasn't a single person in town he couldn't talk to, whether it was thanking Izzy for another meal in Spanish or signing 'Good Morning' to the deaf man cutting meat at the butcher shop. When Mr. Rivera's car broke down, he knew exactly which of Jane's spare parts would fix it. Though he was a bit behind on modern technology, he was a fast learner. Within a week of Jane teaching him computers and Darcy explaining to him the finer points of Twitter, he had helped Sadie create a working online directory for the library which some people actually used.

This became his life for the next few weeks. Word spread quickly that Bucky would do any odd job, no matter how small or strange, for only a small, negotiable fee. Be it cash for a day's work temping at the pet shop or the sweet old grandma on the edge of town making him brownies when he fixed her window shutters.

Over time, his relationships with Jane's companions began to improve. Erik stuck around as long as his vacation time would allow, and then reluctantly bought a ticket home. Bucky tagged along when Jane drove him to the airport and stood off to the side as she hugged him good-bye.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, patting her shoulder. "Call me if you find anything, and stay safe out there."

He glanced at Bucky, as he was wont to do whenever he reminded Jane of the dangers of being too impulsive. Unfortunately for him, Bucky had become confident.

"You don't have to worry, sir," he smiled, taking Jane's hand. "I'm with her every step of the way."

Darcy had a much easier time getting used to Bucky's presence. Her job as a research assistant for an astrophysicist wasn't nearly as fulfilling as making up schedules and taking calls for Bucky from people and businesses that might require his services. To her credit, she was quite organized.

"Good morning, Boss Man!" She greeted Bucky one morning as he shuffled into the kitchen. "I take it Boss Lady is still recovering from the epic railing you gave her last night?"

Bucky shot her a tired look. "You know, Lewis, if I ever talked like that in front of my mom, she would've washed my mouth out with soap."

"Good thing I used it all up this morning," Darcy grinned, tapping a clipboard. "So today you've got some dogs to walk. That should be fun."

"Sounds good," Bucky said, gulping down orange juice. "What else?"

"Mr. Hernández needs help painting his fence. He says his back is acting up again. Fifty bucks work for you?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Okay, that's at eleven, and then at two, Izzy was hoping you'd help unload this week's food delivery. That's another forty from her."

"Fine."

"And the Puente Antiguo Women's Association is offering you five hundred dollars."

"Five hundred dollars? For what?"

"To do everything else on this list with your shirt off."

It was exactly the routine and stability he needed. Every morning, he woke up in Jane's arms. He kissed her awake. They ate breakfast together. He went off to work while she began her daily tasks in the lab. He came home tired but fulfilled with a pocket full of cash. Jane made a conscious effort to be finished by then so they could have dinner. They talked about anything and everything. They watched television. At night, they worked their bodies into semi-comfortable positions on the cot in Jane's RV and kissed each other good night.

Though they still had a long way to go, it was obvious they had never been happier. Jane was working harder than ever, following every potential lead, no matter how small. It wasn't just about her anymore. Bucky believed in her. He spent his free time reading her books, asking her questions, listening to all of her ideas without ever getting bored.

This was their life. Their happily ever after slowly taking shape, leading them into a glorious future.

And Loki was there for it all.

He watched behind a veil of magic, as intangible as he was invisible. The prickling worry in the back of his mind that Heimdall's all-seeing eyes or Odin's ravens might spot him hiding in the shadows of Midgard was slowly leaving him. Sitting down to lunch with his mother every day helped alleviate the stress, both his own and hers. If she ever wondered why he'd become so quiet and reserved in his father and brother's absence, she had yet to say so. Whenever he thought she might, he'd go to the tavern with Hogun and Fandral and turn everyone's mead into apricot juice. That would put Frigga's mind at ease.

Sometimes he'd stay in Jane's lab and watch work. If she wasn't scolding Darcy for playing on her phone when she was supposed to be working, she was drawing up maps of rainbow bridge energy and coming up with potential algorithms for harnessing it (wouldn't Odin be surprised to find how close humans had come to the answer). Occasionally, she'd drop her pencil, or leave an important paper next to the window where the wind would blow it away. Loki was happy to assist her in avoiding such minor inconveniences. The pencil was always right where she needed it, and her papers remained in a neat and undisturbed pile.

Other times, he'd follow Bucky on one of his daily odd jobs. Some of his tasks left Loki baffled. Taking Midgardian beasts out for a run or assisting in the repair of a door was one thing- even Thor in a more charitable mood would've been happy to help- but then he'd be off mopping floors and scrubbing the mirrors in bathrooms. Such menial labor was beneath a man of his ability. Even the lowest level servants in the royal Asgardian palace used magic to cleanse the washrooms. Never their hands. While Bucky was not an Asgardian and demonstrated nothing but satisfaction with his position, Loki couldn't help but be offended on his behalf. Briefly, he considered turning the store owner into a fly and crushing him for such a travesty. Then Bucky finished his work and spent the next hour chatting with the old man about 'the game last night' and the recent birth of his first grandchild. The light in Bucky's eyes as he gushed over photos of the newborn stayed Loki's hand. He would spare the owner for now, but as the Midgardians said, he was on thin ice.

On the nights they went out, Loki was with them. It was becoming more common for Jane to put down the spectrograph and go out with Bucky for long walks across the desert sands. Sometimes, they went to the bar. Jane wasn't one for alcohol, but as Bucky soon discovered, his metabolism didn't allow him to get drunk anyway. They stuck to a few light beers and gazed into each other's eyes as the moon charted her course across the sky.

It was… nice to watch them. Nice to see them happy together.

Their lives were not perfect. Bucky still woke up some nights in a panic, eyes darting around for invisible threats. He'd memorized every point of entrance in the lab and sharpened all of Jane's knives. She had given him one of her spare laptops to use in his free time. When she was looking, he watched videos about cats on a website called YouTube. When she wasn't, he researched firearms. The gun he had kept for his journey remained hidden where he could reach it. Just in case.

One day, Jane caught him reading an article about Captain America. He refused to look at her, but she saw the tears in his eyes.

"Will you tell me about him?" she asked.

He closed the laptop. "Someday."

Some wounds simply ran too deep.

But for all the pain, there was still joy to be found. They laughed together far more than they cried. Jane continued her research. Bucky acclimated himself to the new millennium. Erik Selvig made his weekly calls. Darcy Lewis wrote out their schedules.

Loki blinked and a month had gone by. It was noon on a hot, sunny day when Darcy nabbed Bucky's laptop and opened a blue and white website.

"Okay…" she muttered, tongue stuck between her lips, "got all your information in… and we're done! Bucky Barnes, you are officially on Facebook."

"Wow," Bucky said through a mouthful of tuna sandwich, "all my dreams have finally come true."

"I know, right?" Darcy grinned, grabbing her phone. "Hang on a second and I'll friend you. Also, Jane, why haven't you updated the page I made you?"

"You made me a Facebook page?" Jane looked up from her computer.

Darcy scoffed. "Seriously? I did that the week I got here. Have you logged into it once?"

"I'm busy."

"Clearly not that busy if you're going on dates every night."

"It is not that often."

"It could be," Bucky grinned.

"Don't you start," Jane muttered.

"How the hell did either of you ever manage without me?" Darcy clicked her tongue. She put her phone away and went back to Bucky's profile. "Let's see, Bucky Barnes is in a relationship with Jane Foster. He's interested in women… is it just women or men, too?"

Bucky nearly choked on his last bite of sandwich. "Why does it want to know that?"

She shrugged. "Just an info question. You don't need to answer it. You will want to log into your triangle account and add a few hobbies and interests, though. I think I got most of Jane's for her profile, but-"

"Hang on, what about a triangle?" Bucky asked.

" You know, triangle," Darcy said like it was obvious, "the website for incomplete triads searching for their third. Jane, didn't you tell him about this?"

"Must've slipped my mind."

"Unbelievable, you two," Darcy groaned. "To date, they've helped bring over a hundred and fifty thousand triads together. All they need is a handwriting sample, some basic information about your likes and dislikes, and viola! Your third will be at your door before you know it."

"Those numbers don't sound inflated at all," Jane said.

"I for one am excited," Bucky replied.

"Oh come on," Darcy cried, "you're telling me you guys aren't even a little bit curious about your third? It could be anyone off the street. One of you might walk past him someday and not even know it."

"Or every day," Loki muttered. Not that he had to. They couldn't hear him if he screamed his lungs out.

"Just think how ugly he must be."

Loki started, sputtering nonsense as Darcy walked through him on her way to the kitchen. Ugly? This girl was lucky Jane enjoyed her company, otherwise she'd spend the rest of her life as a field mouse.

"Why do you think our third would be ugly?" asked Bucky.

Darcy threw up her hands. "I don't know. Maybe he's not. Or she's not. Maybe they're another twelve out of ten like the two of you."

"I'm a twelve out of ten?" Jane pointed at herself. "You're joking, right?"

"Jane, please, that's the smartest thing Darcy has ever said," Bucky smirked.

"He's right!" Darcy shouted thoughtlessly. "You two are already crazy hot on your own. Together, you're like a raging hotness inferno burning entire cities to ash in your sexy wake. If we added one more hot person to this equation, we might as well just nuke the planet."

"...Darcy, go take a lunch break."

"If I do, I'm going for happy hour."

"Have a good time." Jane slid down in her seat as Darcy skipped down the street out of sight. "What am I going to do with her?"

"Drive her out into the desert and leave her there?" Bucky suggested.

Jane swatted at his arm, but he dodged. Trying again yielded the same result until Bucky grew bored and hoisted Jane into his arms, ignoring her indignant squeak and demands to be let down. Tickling under her arms silenced her complaints. She wheezed and pushed at his arms as he carried her to the couch.

"Such a jerk," she said into his neck.

"You know it," Bucky laughed.

For a time, they sat in silence, merely enjoying one another's company. Loki hovered at the door, unable to leave but unwilling to get closer. This was a private moment he was intruding on, and in spite of all the times he'd used this spell to gather intel on his enemies or learn humiliating secrets to hold over the heads of his friends, spying on Bucky and Jane made his stomach ache in the strangest way.

Not enough to leave of course, but he did still give them space.

"Do you ever think about him?" Jane asked.

"Our third?" Bucky pursed his lips. "Yeah, sometimes. Not always, but…"

The unfinished thought echoed in Loki's ears. A shudder coursing through him. It seemed to start in his hands and work its way up. If they could see him, all they'd find was a cool, ambivalent face, behind which a torrent of emotion was growing. Stronger than even he thought himself capable of.

"I was thinking the other night," Jane said, "when we were in bed together, how nice it would be to have someone else there, holding me or holding you. We're so cramped in there, but somehow, the bed felt too small."

Bucky shook his head. "I bet other couples don't have to deal with this shit."

"Other couples aren't incomplete triads."

Her words were barely audible, spoken through lips that didn't seem to move. The look in her eyes was far off. For the first time since Loki saw her through the fog of the potion, she looked like she didn't have the answer. How would she feel if she knew he was right in front of her? Just out of reach. Just out of sight.

"I bet he's smart," Bucky said, rubbing her shoulder. "Like you."

Jane smiled. "And you."

"Pft- sure."

"You are smart, Bucky." Jane rolled on her back to look in his eyes. "You're smart and kind and strong and handsome. If our third is even half of what you are, I'll be the luckiest woman in the world."

Something tugged at Loki's chest. He didn't know what it was, only that it reminded him of when he was a child and he saw a little girl with flowing blonde hair and a dress weaved with flowers at a summer banquet in Alfheim and realized how beautiful she was. This was like that, but infinitely greater.

"If he's half of what you are, I'll be the lucky one," Bucky said, rubbing his metal fingers over a smooth, unblemished, wordless palm. "I wonder if he'd even know who I am."

"I do, James," Loki whispered. "I know you very well…"

As the moment passed, it was time to take his leave. To stay would have been a greater pleasure than he would even admit under torture, but there was still much to do. The low ceiling and dim lights of Jane's lab became the towering arches of Asgard's royal palace. Sunset turned to muggy midday. His home for over a millennium had never felt colder, or so uninviting.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Loki left his chambers and headed for the training grounds. A few hours tearing straw soldiers apart with his knives would help clear his head. Then maybe he'd spend some time in the library brushing up on his spell casting. The wards he'd placed around Bucky's mind should have been unbreakable, but it never hurt to be sure.

And then there was Jotunheim…

"Your highness!"

A guardsman with a youthful face and a weapon far too large for his slight frame sprinted around a corner. His face was red and soaked in sweat. Just how far had he run?

"What is it?" Loki sighed. "Make it quick. I am quite busy."

"Forgive me, my prince," the guard said, "but your presence is required in the throne room immediately."

They were supposed to be gone for five months. Five months. Barely two had passed and now the palace floors once again shook with the earth-shattering roll of thunder.

Loki felt it several times on the long walk from one side of the palace to the other. He could have easily crossed that distance in under a second, but he felt like being lazy today. It gave him time to think about just what a terrible day this was turning out to be. What could he possibly say when he walked through those doors and found his dear brother tearing apart another dinner table?

A roar greeted him as he made his entrance. It was aimed not at him, but at the window where Thor had absconded. His cape hung limp on his shoulders, Mjolnir much less grand while strapped to his thigh and immobile.

"Good afternoon, Father," Loki bowed his head to Odin on the throne. "Brother. We weren't expecting you home so soon."

"Neither was I," Odin said, his single eye firmly on Thor's back. "Your brother had different ideas."

As if taking that for a summons, Thor whirled around and stormed to the center of the room. He stood in front of Loki. In his rage, he might not have seen him there at all. "Father, I was within my right to act."

"So you have said," Odin grumbled.

"The grand duke's son insulted me. Insulted our family!"

"He said nothing we haven't heard countless times before." The All-Father squeezed Gungnir so hard, he was close to snapping it in half. "You nearly killed the boy."

"I accepted his challenge to a duel," Thor declared proudly. "Did you expect me to hold back?"

"I expected you to act with diplomacy," Odin said. "To consider the repercussions of your actions and how they may affect not just yourself, but the people you represent. How do you think Alfheim views us now after what you've done?"

"If they are as intelligent as they claim," Thor spat, "they will know to respect us."

A hand closed around Loki's shoulder, gentle and warm. He turned to Frigga's sad, smiling face as Odin stepped off the throne and went to yell at his eldest directly to his face. The battle was just getting started as Frigga led Loki outside.

"Let them discuss it in private," she said. "I believe it's time for lunch."

Loki sipped his tea. It was his favorite, brewed by Frigga out of leaves from her garden. Long ago he had asked her for the recipe, and she had answered with a secret smile and a promise to tell him someday. That day had yet to come, but Loki trusted it would soon enough. No need to pry.

It was as fragrant and delicious as ever, and he would've enjoyed it so much more without Odin's gruff voice in his ear and Thor's indignant shouts ramming a hole in his skull. Somewhere beyond their anger was Jane's breathy laughter and Bucky's rough timbre. He held onto it as he drank, closing his eyes to picture their faces. When he opened them again, Frigga stared at him, and his heart went still.

"Ignoring me, I see," she quipped.

Loki took her hand. "I could never. I was just… thinking."

Frigga chuckled. "Yes, you always are. I believe from the moment you came into being, your mind was already in motion."

A servant arrived with a tray of cakes for them to choose from. Frigga took two along with some fruit. Loki found he didn't have much of an appetite.

"It is strange," Frigga said when they were alone again.

"What is?" Loki asked.

His mother stared at him thoughtfully. "For some time now, you have been quiet. I believe since your father and brother departed."

"It is only because they were gone," Loki said with every appearance of casualness. "I was not so much quiet as I was bored."

"Yes, I see," Frigga said, taking a delicate bite of cake. "I suppose that will no longer be an issue now that they have cut their trip short."

Loki leaned back in his chair, wishing the faint droning in his ears was just a horde of bees making their home under his chair. It was hard not to hear Thor and Odin's debate, even while tucked away in one of the many courtyards. The fight would no doubt last well into the night and remain unresolved as long as Thor insisted he was in the right and Odin refused to hear his concerns with an unbiased ear.

"It happens every time, doesn't it?" Loki muttered.

Frigga sighed. "Your brother carries such a burden on his shoulders."

"He may very well collapse under it," Loki said. "Do you believe he is ready to be king?"

Such a question would be just short of treasonous had anyone else asked it. Frigga paused, setting her plate down. "I believe when the time is right, Thor will rise to the occasion, and become one of the greatest kings the nine realms have ever known."

Loki looked away, the sweet aftertaste of the tea turning bitter. "Of course. And I know where I will be."

"Where you want to be I hope." She took his hand, giving Loki a few seconds to digest her words. "Sometimes I wonder where the little boy I raised has gone. What a man he's become. So strong and intelligent, but not always in touch with his own feelings."

Loki furrowed his brow. "I don't understand."

Frigga nodded. "Loki, as your queen, I have done my best to teach you to be a leader. That is what the people of Asgard need. Your brother cannot guide them into the future alone, and I know you would both lay down your lives to protect this realm with no regrets." She rubbed his knuckles, caressing the skin. Never before had she been so fixated with his hands. "But I am not just your queen. I am also your mother, and I wonder if I have been thinking too much like a queen and not enough like a mother."

"There is no mother in all the universe better than you," Loki said, surprising even himself with the thickness of his voice.

Frigga's eyes shined. "I wish that were true. All I've ever wanted was for you to grow into the man I always knew you could be. A prince Asgard could be proud of, and you have far exceeded all my expectations."

"Mother," Loki began, but Frigga silenced him with a look.

"My son, you've always done what is best for Asgard." She turned his hands over and ran her fingers down his bare palms. "Now I want you to do what's best for you."

Standing, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him like she had when he was a child wrought with nightmares. Centuries had passed, and he had long since surpassed her in height, yet he always felt small in her arms. Safe and protected. Clenching his hands into fists, the skin burned with the heat of the words hidden by magic.

"Thank you, Mother," he said, reluctantly stepping away. "I hope we can have lunch again soon."

She smiled. "I'm always here when you need me."

All was quiet as Loki made his trek down the halls. Somewhere in the last few minutes, Thor and Odin's fight had ended. This didn't mean the conflict was over. Loki knew that all too well. He also knew exactly where to find Thor now that he'd been dismissed from the All-Father's presence.

The crown prince's antechamber was awash with talking. Sif and the Warriors Three had arrived and gotten to work reassuring their leader that he was completely in the right and only a fool (or the All-Father) would say different.

"He can't stay mad at you for long," Fandral said, clapping a hand on Thor's shoulder. "You'll see, by tomorrow all this nonsense will have blown over."

"You only acted as you saw fit to defend your peoples' honor," Hogun agreed.

Thor met their encouraging words with a grunt as he paced around the room. "He knows nothing. Age has blinded him!"

"The All-Father never acts without reason," Sif muttered.

"He would allow himself to grow soft, complacent." Thor stopped at the window, the sill cracking under his punishing grip. "When I am king, I won't allow anyone to make such a fool of me."

"Thor…" Sif said.

There was no point in talking to him, as they all should well know. It was part of Thor's process. Now that his pride had been wounded, he'd spend a few hours sulking like a child and pushing away anyone who tried to comfort him. Next, he'd decide to 'redeem' himself by embarking on a quest to defeat some monster terrorizing a village on the outskirts of Asgard. He'd return the following morning, sea serpent or wolf carcass in hand, and the people would rejoice. They'd chant his name to Valhalla. Odin would beam at his eldest with boundless pride. Thus would complete Thor's grand redemption.

And it was all so very… funny.

It had never been so funny to Loki as it was right now. In fact, it was so funny, he had to laugh. Long and loud and with total abandon, Loki laughed. He laughed until his stomach hurt. Until his eyes were wet with tears. Until Thor was before him, nostrils flaring with unchecked rage.

"What amuses you, brother?" he asked, and it was only because Loki was his family that he hadn't already swung his hammer.

"What doesn't?" Loki shook his head. "There is not a single thing about this whole situation that I don't find to be of the utmost hilarity. Do you not see that, brother?"

"I don't," Thor growled. The floor vibrated under their feet as the sky grew dark.

"What a terrible shame that is," Loki grinned. "If only you could see yourself from the outside, and then we could both enjoy a laugh."

Thor gritted his teeth. "You dare mock me-"

"Of course not," Loki said, uncaring of the grey storm clouds forming over their heads. "I would never mock you, brother. I would only tell you the truth. They may call me the liesmith, but you, Thor, can always trust me for an honest opinion. And in my opinion, your little stunt on Alfheim has done nothing but prove you are not ready to be king. In fact, I wonder if you ever will be."

"Loki!" Sif snapped, only for Thor to drown her out.

"I've heard enough of this," he rumbled.

"Have you?" Loki raised an eyebrow. "I haven't been banished yet. You could order me to leave your chambers any time you want, but perhaps you know it will only prove me right. Tell me, what did that boy say to incite your anger? Did he question the mighty Thor's strength in battle? Or perhaps he drank from your tankard."

"Be silent."

"Did he attempt to take Mjolnir? I wouldn't be surprised. If an oaf like you is worthy of its power, surely anyone can lift it."

"Be silent, Loki."

"Or perhaps he did nothing and it was all an excuse. Just one more way for the golden son of Asgard to prop himself up and look big, so that no one ever sees how small you really are."

Loki expected pain, but it still hurt. He knew he'd be knocked off his feet, but Thor's punch sent him flying. Lightning flashed as his back hit the wall, the shock of the impact darkening his vision. When he came to, he was on the ground and his chest was burning. It had only been a few seconds from the looks on their friends' faces.

"Oh dear," Volstagg muttered.

He wasn't just talking about Loki. The doors were open, and Thor's room was no longer safe from the outside world. How long Odin's men had been standing there, they might never know, but Odin himself had been there long enough. The scene before him was clear. His second son on the ground, clutching his chest where he'd been hit. The firstborn, fist still raised, not yet aware that he was being watched. Thor's anger had melted away as his cheeks flushed. His mouth fell open, pure horror in his eyes as he realized what he had done.

"Loki…" he croaked. "I…"

This part wasn't funny. Not at all, but Loki laughed anyway. "Look at that. To think, that was all I had to do."

'I didn't even need the Frost Giants.'

He worked his way to his feet, milking it the tiniest bit. The blow was not so devastating as to inhibit his movements, and each passing second chipped away at the pain until it was little more than mild discomfort. There was nothing more he needed to do. Thor would face the consequences of his actions and maybe even learn a lesson or two. Stranger things had happened.

"Where are you going?" Odin hissed, blocking his way.

Loki smirked at him. "Forgive me, All-Father, but I am needed elsewhere. And I believe you have a wayward heir to discipline."

He tried to walk past, but Odin took him by the arm. "Do you think you can just leave after what you've done?"

"What I've done?" Loki asked. "You must be more specific than that. Am I not the victim here?"

"You provoked him."

"Maybe so," Loki said, jerking himself free, "but if it is I who would face judgment, I'm afraid you're too late for that. I don't regret anything I've done."

"Loki…"

"But you need not worry about me, Father. Nor should you look for me." He held up his hands as he backed away, far from the soldiers reach and into the light of the sun. It shone down on him, warming his pale skin. If Odin looked closer, he might see words shimmering on Loki's palms. "I'll be in good hands."

Smoke cloaked his body as he teleported to his room. There were only a few things he needed and storing them in his bottomless pocket took less time than the guardsmen would need to surround his door. He left a double of himself on the bed and spirited off to the rainbow bridge. There he sent another dozen copies to all the corners of the galaxy. That would keep Odin busy until his arrogance no longer blinded him to the meaning behind Loki's words.

Now, there was only one thing left to do.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome once again to 'Pop Culture of the Modern Day 101'. My name is Darcy Lewis and I'll be your instructor today. Why don't we get started with a pop quiz." Darcy tapped her pen on Jane's hijacked whiteboard. "Complete the following sentence. Hello…"

On the couch, Bucky picked some dirt out of his fingernails.

Darcy tapped her foot. "I said, 'Hello.'"

"Hello, Darcy," Bucky said.

"No, no, that's not what I meant and you know it."

"Do I?"

"Look, dude, either you watched the movie like I told you to or you didn't." She jammed her finger at the board. "I say again, 'Hel-lo.'"

"My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die," Bucky said without the slighted change of infliction. "Better?"

"I'd appreciate less sarcasm, but yes," Darcy smiled. "Good work, B- for you. Let's move on. Now, The Princess Bride, being such a well-known eighties classic, comes with a long list of quotable lines, and if you're going to survive on the internet, it is imperative that you know all of them. First, let's go over Miracle Max. What is the difference between mostly dead and all dead?"

Bucky gave Jane a pleading look. "For the love of God, save me."

She was in the corner, face deep in one of her many computer screens. Words and numbers scrolled past her eyes as she absorbed the information like a sponge. Not once did she blink, let alone look up at her beleaguered soulmate.

"I just don't get it," she muttered.

Bucky sat up. "What's wrong?" He watched Jane type a single key several times, utterly dead to the world. "Jane?"

"What?" Her head snapped up. "Oh, no, sorry. I was… these readings don't make any sense."

"Is an alien spaceship about to crash to earth?" Darcy asked, folding her arms. "Because otherwise, I'd appreciate you not interrupting my…" Dual glares bearing the heat of a thousand suns killed off what remained of her words. Darcy dropped the marker and slunk off to her desk. "We'll just do this later."

As she disappeared behind her phone, Bucky mouthed 'desert' at Jane, who ignored him.

"The last three events all followed roughly the same pattern," Jane said, pulling up the files one at a time. "Sudden high winds, rising temperatures, unidentifiable lights in the sky…"

"Please don't tell me Darcy was onto something there," Bucky said.

"Very funny," Jane groused. She rolled her chair over to one of her weather machines. It showed nothing out of the ordinary for a hot summer day in New Mexico. "All the other times, it still resembled natural phenomena. This… I don't know how to describe it, but the way the numbers are fluctuating, it almost seems deliberate."

Bucky stared at her. "Are you saying something is controlling the anomaly?"

"It just doesn't make any sense," she whispered.

Whether her words were a spell or a temptation of fate, in the next few seconds, the quiet lab transformed into absolute chaos. Every piece of equipment started beeping. Lights were flashing. Machines vibrating. Darcy squeaked and fell out of her chair in shock. For a split second, Bucky thought about going to help her, but Jane was on her feet, laptop in hand. The screen blinked like the system was overheating. Numbers flashed in and out, meaningless to him but everything to her.

"Oh my God," she said, shaking, "oh my God, it's happening. Bucky, it's happening!"

"What's happening?" He shouted over the noise.

Jane either didn't hear him or didn't care. Grabbing her camera bag, she was out the door and in the truck in seconds. The engine rumbled to life as Bucky's brain restarted and reminded him that she was about to possibly drive into a tornado.

"Jane, wait a minute!" He raced outside as the truck took off. Picking up speed, he easily caught up and pulled himself into the passenger seat. Were it not for the machines, his ranting at her recklessness and demands that she slow down could've been heard for miles.

Darcy was left to stare after them. "Okay, I'll… I'll just wait here, then."

Secret passageways to the universe were everywhere. Loki knew all of them by heart.

Well, perhaps there were a few left which had escaped his notice. He was still a young man after all. Barely in his second millennium.

This one was smaller and more carefully hidden. He had found it years ago during a game of hide and seek and used it infrequently to preserve its secrecy. Midgard had always been a dull vacation spot anyway. Not a place one would care to visit twice.

So it amazed him how inviting the sand dunes were as he stepped through the portal leaving majestic Asgard in his wake. Miles of sloping goldenrod seemed to span the planet. If he didn't know for a fact that Midgard was mostly water, he'd think it was all desert. A tiny brown town dotted the sand far ahead of him. When the wind was right, it was all but invisible. Though he could've blinked himself into the town without trouble, Loki chose the scenic route. The longer he walked, the more sand he crushed underfoot. The more sand he saw, the more endearing it became. In fact, he almost liked this sun-baked tundra, or at least what it represented.

His ears picked up a sound. It originated in the village and grew louder as it crawled through the sand coming straight for him. As the black dot chugged along, it took form as a chunky vehicle spitting smoke and swerving down a narrow, poorly maintained road well off the main path into town. It barreled through a sand dune, sailed over a small crater, and when it looked like it might miss Loki entirely, took a sudden sharp turn in his direction. Over the roar of the engine, Loki vaguely heard a man yelling at his companion. Something about her needing to calm down before she drove them into a ditch.

Loki didn't change his pace, even as the truck came screeching to a halt in front of him. Inside were two people, their faces shadowed by the sun. Behind the wheel was a petite woman struggling to push her hair out of her face. Her passenger, a sharp-eyed and broad-shouldered man, fixed his gaze on Loki, the fear and suspicion in his eyes unsurprising, but rather sobering.

Jane Foster, dedicated scientist that she was, didn't share Bucky's apprehension. She didn't seem to have noticed Loki at all. Turning off the engine, she threw herself out of the truck, a small device in her hand perhaps meant for recording atmospheric pressure.

"It was right here," she was saying. "Right here! My scanners picked it up! What-"

She looked at Bucky, who looked at Loki. He seemed numb to everything except the man in front of him. It might've been strange, except when Loki looked down, he was still wearing his armor, which would be quite out of place in a realm like Midgard. Perhaps he should've changed before he got here.

As Jane calmed down, her eyes found Loki. It took her another moment to realize that the person in front of her was real and Bucky could see him, too. Her arms dropped, the device slipping through her fingers.

For the longest time, there was silence. Nothing but the gentle hum of the village and their own breathing. They might've been the only three people in the world as far as Loki was concerned.

He took a step. Bucky whipped a gun out of his boot. "Hey, don't move!"

Jane gaped at him. "Bucky, what is that?"

"A gun," he replied.

"Why do you have a gun?"

"I always have a gun. It's for protection."

"Protection from what?"

"Stuff like this obviously!" Bucky waved furiously at Loki.

Their bickering didn't hurt his ears. In fact, Loki liked it far more than the sand. Their voices calmed something in him he didn't know needed calming. A chuckle fell from his lips, ending the fight as Bucky fingered the trigger. "What the hell is so funny, asshole?"

Loki didn't answer. He would've, but it wasn't yet his turn. Jane stared at him, whatever fear she'd once had for his bizarre appearance gone, making way for wonder. "Where did you come from?"

His palms tingled, the words pulsing like a heartbeat. Closing his fists, Loki smiled and shook his head. "How strange," he said looking into their eyes, "I can't think of a thing to say."

One thing he hadn't let himself do was imagine how they'd react. He could think of several ways. Confusion like the childhood friends who never wanted to play magic with him because why would they do that when they could play war. Disappointment like the inter-realm officials who expected the Mighty Thor to answer their distress calls instead of his brother. Anger that their third couldn't have been someone else, anyone else…

Jane's whole body shook, her lips parted wordlessly as her hands fell open. On one was a messy declaration of relief from Bucky. On the other, his own vulnerability. Never before had it been so exposed. Loki might've forgotten he was even capable of this.

When he looked at Bucky, the gun was down. It fell into the sand with a soft 'thump'. Now it was Bucky's turn to move. He approached slowly, metal hand in his pocket as if to hide his shame. Loki touched his arm and Bucky tensed. He could've run, but he didn't, and after a moment, Loki pulled his hand out, tracing the flawless palm with his fingers.

He held Bucky's hand, then reached for Jane's. She took it without a word, and that was when Loki noticed her other hand tangled in Bucky's.

So this was it now, the three of them joined together until the universe itself ceased to be. Loki could live with that.