The child screamed, holding his hands above his head as if to protect himself. Perhaps had it happened slower they might of paused to think about their actions.

But it didn't.

It happened fast. A shriek of light, a flash of blue and it was done. A proud, half broken man gone, mistaken for one of his tricks, a child. Panic overcame the boy. Terror teeming on his face, forcing tears from his eyes. Thor arrived there first, his mind, as always, working slower than his fists. He pounced and the child screamed again. His small breaths gasping and wheezing, fear constricting his lungs. Too panicked or too scared to protect himself like he had been taught, he could only think to crouch and scream. His brother, why was his brother so old? Why was he swinging mjölnir at him? Where was he?

None of it made any sense! So he cried and wailed.

Thor charged at him and he squeezed his eyes closed behind his fingers and screamed again. He braced for the impact, for the betrayal he didn't understand and could barely fathom. He wondered if his bones would shatter. Then there was a sickening thump. It echoed through the air, all the ears hearing it and tensing at its sound. The child's wails dampened to a whimper, his little arms held over his head, crouching like he was trying to become as small as possible, smaller than he always was. He whole form shook with terror and confusion, yet he never looked up as though he feared what he might see, not even at the sound of the thump. He must of supposed that it had come from him.

For a second all was silent. Only the rapid breathing of confusion and panic filling the large space. And then a single gentle movement was made, the first of many. A slight tap upon the boy's quivering shoulder. The child flinched back, tripping over his own heels, eyes wide and terrified. He looked up at the monster before him, even more scared than before.

"Blue child" the monster cooed. It's humongous moss green form ridged as if it feared that the child would be as scared of him as the rest of the world. Green eyes flickered down to his hand, looking over its blue shade. It didn't quite bother him, perhaps he was too young and he was so very, very young. He didn't know anything, but perhaps he knew that kin was safe, as everyone else he could see had the same coloured skin except him and the monster. In his little mind it just made sense, it meant that he and the monster were kin. And kin, kin was safe. Though he was was unsure.

"Hey! You little piece of shit! You aren't going to fool us!" A voice yelled. An arrow flew past his ear and he panicked. Kin equals safe. Monster equals kin. It was far as his mind dare venture. He launched himself at the monster, sobbing grossly. He clung fearfully to a green torso and closed his eyes, not wanting to be where he apparently was. The monster cooed dumbly to him. Patting his back and holding him just tight enough for it to be comforting. The child sobbed at the hash yells that filled the atmosphere, little hands balled to fists, tears wetting skin made of moss. He felt a roar of high volume shudder out of the monster and all the shouting stopped. The monster sounded like papa when he talked with the elves. The child wailed louder. The monster cooed to him, and his sobbing became only harsh hiccups.

"Blue child" he said quietly, patting the boys back and rubbing his square jaw into the boy's black hair. The monster seemed to seat himself, the child still sitting in his arms, refusing to remove his face from the monster's chest. He heard the sound of footsteps and the monster growled.

"Hey, big guy" said a nervous male voice. The child didn't look up to see, he only buried himself deeper into green flesh. "Look, I love the whole mother gorilla thing you've got going on, but I'm just going to take the kid off your hands, okay?" It didn't sound like a question. Someone touched his shoulder lightly as if to gesture to him and he screamed, though it bubbled down in to soft panicked whimpers as quickly as it had arisen. The monster roared at whoever it was and turned away. The child sobbed loudly, confusion and panic marking his every sound. Suddenly something pierced his shoulder and he gasped. He felt it get ripped out of his skin, but already he could feel something leaking into his blood stream, as if it was drawing out his panic he slumped. He felt himself get lowered, the back of his head resting on a great bicep, his limbs limp and weak. He looked up dazedly at the green face that was contorted with anger and worry. A large finger poked his stomach and he giggled dazedly. He eyes slipped closed and the monster made worried grunting noises as if in sympathy at his sleepiness.

The world disappeared into a black backdrop, voices and roars and being clutched like a rag doll. Thor was somewhere amongst the mess of yelling and arguments, but the child couldn't figure out where. It was just a mess. A mess that he had somehow became submerged in.

The chemicals hung lightly in the air, slowly circulating around the room. He hadn't the faintest clue where he was and that, that panicked him. He hadn't opened his eyes as yet, and he didn't plan to. For as long as he could remember, opening his eyes had lead to discovering something that neither wanted to be discovered nor warmed his heart when he did. He didn't make any movement, at least nothing noticeable. Though his body tensed, curling itself into a tight ball, his eyes squeezing closed. He knew, on some level, that no matter how much he wished it to be so he wasn't where he last remembered being. The monster had been real, he knew, Thor had been real. It was all real. None of it simply a nightmare. If it was a nightmare he would be back in his bed, he would be able to crawl away and find Thor or his mother. He would be safe, but he wasn't.

He balled his hand into a fist, bordering on panic once again. The feeling of weak wire poked into his hand where he hadn't noticed it before. Hair.

"Papa?" He wheezed, it was quite a good deduction, at least in his own mind. The hair didn't feel like it hair from a head, and therefore it was hair from a chest. Papa had hair on his chest, he sometimes let him play with it when he carried the child to bed. So maybe it was papa.

"I'm sorry" a voice apologised. It was deep and nervous and rumbled from the chest with the hair. It wasn't papa's though. The child's heart spiked in fear. "But we'll get you back to your papa as soon as we can" the voice was gentle though worried, it sounded like it didn't quite know how to get there, but at least the destination was known. The child raised his head, green eyes opening, his face filled with distress. A blanket had been draped over his shoulders and a towel over the man's lower region, presumably to protect his modesty. His knees were curled beneath him, digging probably uncomfortably into the man's ribs. His little black head had been resting on the man's chest and his hand was still clinging to the his chest hairs. Grey, melancholy eyes looked at him and he looked back.

"Who are you?" He asked meekly, his voice almost too quiet to hear. Though the man did hear it, he smiled, somewhat uncomfortably.

"My name is Bruce" the man was well built, strong and far bigger than him. His mother had warned him of well built men that he didn't know. When he and Thor went to the market together, she always warned them of who they trusted.

"My name is Loki" his voice was shaky and fearful, but the man smiled again anyway. Loki almost smiled back. Probably noticing his wide eyes and man weakly rubbed his shoulders, making the occasional cooing sound that sounded all too familiar. The child relaxed a little, though he still flinched every time he heard a sudden sound off int the background.

"Well, Loki, would you mind getting me a glass of water?" The man tilted his head a little, gesturing in the general direction of a space that vaguely resembled a kitchen from home. "Er… y-yes? I mean… yes! O-Of course" the child scrambled up, a mess of flying limbs and half contained confusion. He slipped almost instantly on a piece of the floor. When he regained his balance he looked about, curiosity overwhelming his fear. It seemed that he and the man had been sleeping in a crater, the floor compressed and crumpled beneath them. The place where something larger and heavier had once been. Oh. So the man was a shapeshifter, that made sense. No wonder he wanted some water, whenever Loki shapeshifted he was always hungry. And thirsty. And tired.

"There's a tap over there" the man said. His voice was still deep and echoy, but weak nonetheless. Loki nodded determinedly and darted forward. He didn't know what was going on. He didn't know where he was. But he knew, at least, that the man was kind and his kin and that meant that he would get the water for him.

He stumbled towards the kitchen. The bench looked like the marble from the throne room, but paler. He didn't like it. The child reached up, one tiny hand gripping the thick slab the other groping for the glass. He carried it carefully over to the tin thing. They had a contraption like this on Asgard. A pump of a sort. He tried to reach up, to balance on his tippy toes. He managed to just peek over the rim of the marble. He somehow handled getting the glass in the sink, but then the pump head looked so far away. He hooked his elbow over the marble and ignored the fact that it was digging into his arm. He flapped his hand meekly and felt his fingertips slip past metal like papa's sword. He drew back for a second before trying again. He couldn't give up. He didn't know who he was, but the man was his friend and had taken care if him. He could get him a cup of water. He stretched farther, trying hard not to feel the pain in his armpit. He grunted uncomfortable, but then the cup was taken from him by a steel metal hand. He gasped as he felt a warm presence behind him. He watched in shock as another, more fleshy hand turned on the pump and clear water gushed out. Slowly he turned his chin upwards, casting his eyes back, the top his head coming to rest on someone's abdomen. He saw a face with eyes cast down. It might of been a cute face at one point, but something must of happened to it's owner to make it so bleak. It might of been cold at some point, but now it was just careful, indifferent perhaps.

"Who are you?" Loki whispered. The child barely came up to the man's waist. A brown eye was cast down towards him. And he saw two personalities. Too people, trapped in a single body. One light and the other draped in darkness and self loathing. Loki blinked at him as the man took a step back, the glass in his metal hand.

"Who are you?" The man returned, slightly glaring, though not threateningly. Loki nodded as if he was simply accepting the answer.

"Do you have any cookies?" He whispered up to the man, who raised an eyebrow, but nodded. Loki bit his lip, wondering what to do next. The man seemed to sense, his growing unease and his dark eyes flickered to the man still lying in the crater, though now he was sleeping.

"Why don't you take the water to Brucey and I'll find some cookies for him, okay?" The man gave the child the glass of water, with gentle ease and tousled black hair with steel. Loki nodded uncertainty and tried his best not to spill the water as he walked. He wondered if mama or papa had noticed he was gone. He wondered if Thor was alright, big Thor or little Thor, either way he wished to know.

He was careful not to slide on the displaced pieces of floor, worrying that he would throw water all over the man if he slipped. He carefully set down the glass, trying to make sure that it was just far enough away so that he would knock it over if he moved his arms in his sleep, but he could still reach it when he woke. The man set down a few cookies next to the tall glass, his footsteps completely silent despite the broken floor.

"Where are your clothes, kid?" The man asked his metal hand resting on Loki's head once again. The child looked up again and wondered why he had a metal arm in the first place. It worried him to some extent.

"I don't know, I woke up like this" the child looked down at himself. He appeared to only be wearing a dark green tunic, something that a man might wear under his armour. It was far to big for him and only stopped below his knees. Well, at least it covered his decency. He didn't really care about that much though. The man's frown deepened. He crouched to eye level with the boy as if to inspect him.

"Where are your parents?" His voice didn't change, but something in his tone told him that the man was growing concerned. Loki almost sighed with relief. Maybe the man knew his parents. Maybe this was all just a prank. Yeah, maybe Thor was just playing a prank. But no, Thor wasn't smart enough and the only person with illusion magic this good was his mother and she didn't like pranks. He bit his lip, looking at the ground.

"I-I don't know" it was all he could think to say. He didn't know where they were. He didn't know if he was safe. He didn't know if they were safe. He didn't even know if Thor was okay. His Thor. Not that other Thor, the one that swung his hammer at him. That wasn't his Thor. That was some other Thor.

A bad Thor.

He pressed his palms into his eyes and tried not to sob. Papa wouldn't sob, papa would come and get him and commend him for being strong. But it was so hard. It was so hard not to cry.

He felt the man's single fleshy hand land on his shoulder and he gave a hiccuping sob.

"Jesus Christ, he's stolen a kid" he heard the man murmur. The child gasped and his head shot up, wide green eyes looking at him in panic.

"I've b-been s-stolen?" Distress covered his face and the man seemed to recognise his mistake. That didn't, of course, stop Loki for becoming even more scared than he already was. He could feel his power brewing inside of him like it always did when he got upset.

"No! Kid, you're fine, you're fine. We'll get you back to your family I promise" Bucky rubbed his shoulder, not even flinching as blue began to seep into the child's skin. Heck, that was probably why they stole him. He might of been new to the age, but he was fairly certain that it was always best not to steal kids, just as a personal rule of thumb.

The boy sobbed loudly, his shoulders shaking, his whole being shaking. Bruce still slept soundly in his little bed of rubble. Bucky hadn't the faintest clue whether he was supposed to step forward and embrace the child or what so he just remained crouched, rubbing his shoulders and frowning. He didn't know how the kid had gotten here, or why he had turned blue, but he knew from personal experience that six years olds tend to cling to their mothers for dear life and this six year old obviously didn't know where his mum was. He must of felt abandoned, or just lost. He sympathised epically.

Watery crimson eyes looked at him desperately.

"Do you know where Thor is?" His voice was small and he reached out, gripping tightly onto his shirt, as if making sure that he was still there. The man's frown deepened.

"You know Thor?" The boy nodded, looking adorably innocent and hopeful. "Well, uh, he has a pretty bad headache at the moment because the hulk hit him in the guts so maybe we could go see him, after we find your parents, kay?" The man smiled triumphantly at his own words, as if he was proud of himself for thinking rationally. The child blinked at him.

"Bucky, have they woken up yet?" As soon as the blond, tall man came into the room Loki was seized with terror. This wasn't like the man with the metal arm. The metal arm man was a stranger, a clean slate, and he had proved himself safe so far, but the blond man was different. The blond man wanted to hurt him, he wanted to hurt him like the big Thor wanted to. He had been the one with the shield, the one who's face had been contorted with frustration.

He yelped, tears still streaming down his face. His face was twisted into a mess of panic and panic. He hid instantly behind the man with he metal arm, clinging tightly to his shirt. It was simply a game of who was the least dangerous. He very much wanted to crawl back into the rubble and curl back up with the monster, but he figure that would be impolite so he only clung to the mean in hope that perhaps he would be protected. He squeezed his eyes closed as the man with the metal arm stood and turned towards the door.

"Buck…y?" His voice was uncertain and trailing. Loki peered fearfully around the hip of the man. Eyes wide, staring at the the tall blond man. His hand was pressed into the front of the man's hipbone with the other still had his shirt clamped between his fingers. Green burned into sapphire and the man with the metal arm looked between them, taking in the child's terrified stare vs the captain's growing agitation.

"Jesus Christ, you actually did steal him. Steve, you stole a kid! You can't just steal kids!" Bucky knew he looked horrified, heck, he was horrified. In his books kidnapping six year olds was a total no no. Unconsciously his metal arm wound around the thin boy's shoulders, who's face was the picture terror. "God, Steve, we have get him back to his parents! They must be frantic!" the boy began to quietly quiver under Steve glare. Going only on instinct Bucky swung down and hoisted the boy onto his hip, holding his arm under his legs. The boy began to openly sob into his collarbone, not caring in the slightest about the chill of steel under his hand. He sure was a little fella, as light as a feather no less.

Steve spluttered, confused for a second.

"You mean you believe this?!" Now they were both shouting and the child cried harder, panic seeping into his wails. "That kid is the god of lies who turned himself into a kid to get pity from us!" Steve was making these hand gestures that Bucky supposed were meant to strengthen his argument, but all they really did was making him look desperate and doubtful.

"What is wrong with you!? He's four years old for gods sake! Look at him, he's terrified!" Said terrified four year old was weeping and shaking with fear by this point. Not knowing what to do Bucky only held him tighter, it didn't soothe him in the slightest. Steve's left nostril twitched, a sign they both knew meant he was agitated and confused.

"You idiot, you don't even know who he is! He killed hundreds of people!" He didn't know what else to do so he just launched himself as the kid, ripping him away from Bucky's steel grip. Given that Bucky was probably the only one thinking clearly, unlike Steve, he figured he could grip onto child and hurt him or he could let go and only hope that the man he had kept alive for all those years before the war hadn't turned into a child kidnapping manic. So he let go.

The child screamed at the top of his lung, legs and arms flailing and struggling uselessly. His crimson eyes glowed with panic and terror, like he couldn't breath or he was drowning.

"Let me go!" He screamed. "Let me go! Lemme go!" His sentences decayed into sobs and wails. He was reaching out, arms waving for the man with the metal arm who only stood with an uncertain expression. The tall, blond man struggled with him, his superior strength pinning the child to his chest.

"Steve" the voice was hard and cold and certain and they all stopped. Frozen ridged. The child whimpered in Steve's arms and Steve was probably in the process of mentally whimpering.

"Bruce" he said quietly, like a child being caught doing something bad by the teacher.

"Let him go, he's real. It isn't voluntary, he can't remember everything from the time he was this age. You're literally just terrifying a child who does not know where he is or who you are for no reason" his voice was more disapproving than cold this time, but still Steve was staring at him simply horrified.

"How do you know?" His voice was questioning and trembling, as the child ceased his struggle in the tall, blond man's arms. He reached his small hands towards Bruce, recognising safety. The safety that the tall blond man didn't possess.

"I asked Jarvis" his voice was steely cold, like bronze. Steve could sense the anger, the rage bubbling beneath the surface. Something ran through his head, a quote that he immediately dismissed.

The monsters protect the monsters and that's why they always win.

Bruce stepped forward and Steve's arms slumped, letting the child pry himself from his strong hold. He immediately clamped onto Bruce's torso.

"Papa" he cried, weeping heavily and wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck. The man cooed soft words to him, patting his back and holding him as he needed to be held. There was nothing he knew better than the fear of not understanding.

"I know, I know. We'll get you back to you your papa, I promise" Bruce soothingly rubbed his back. How strange they must of looked. A man with only a towel wrapped around his waist with a small blue child with horns clinging to him in tears to his chest. A man with a metal arm who looked very much winded and a man wearing the American flag.

Bruce saw as Steve wavered, his uncertainty, his doubt.

"Jarvis?" His voice could of disciplined lava to ice in seconds.

"It is true" the voice in the celling stated. "Master Layfeyson's cells have de-aged. It is widely known that Mr Laufeyson is only capable of illusions, but he cannot fake his own DNA. I believe that he doesn't have any memory for the past 1750 years leaving him at the human age of 5.1".

The boy's back immediately straightened in Bruce's arms, his neck turned back, in search for the figure to match to the voice. He blinked crimson eyes at the celling, the little cogs in his brain gong haywire.

"House?" He asked.

"Yes, Master Laufeyson?" The house responded, sounding almost bemused. Loki shook his head and seemed to decide that he would think about it later. He shook his head wearily, muttering something, before nestling back into the man's chest. He felt himself being carried away. The tall, blond, scary man being left in the kitchen while he looked at his hands with a fraught expression. The man with the metal arm followed them and Loki waved at him over the shoulder of the man named Bruce. The man with the metal arm waved solemnly in return. He seemed sad so Loki reached out to him and held his hand as they walked. Whenever he got upset Thor would hold his hand and he would feel better.

He let himself be unclothed and dipped in hot water while hi snoozed on the man named Bruce's arm. At some point the man with the metal arm disappeared, but then another man came in and looked at him in surprise. He looked back at him with half open eyelids.

"Papa?" He asked. The man had a small, well cut beard around his chin and his face was rough and filled with crevasses of his skin. He looked a little like papa, only shorter and less bulky. The man bathing him had introduced him as something starting with T that he instantly forgot. He stayed with them with a big fake smile. He told Loki jokes that he laughed weakly at. The man's voice was familiar in a rough, vague sort of way, but not unpleasant. He was pretty sure he fell asleep half way though a joke and offended him.