A/N:

1) Sincere thanks for reviews, encouragement, and great ideas goes to: , Maia2, Reader-anonymous-writer, MilkyWayGalaxy, Dazja, Lilywonders, fan girl 666, Aki WildQueen, lionesspuma. As usual, I'll respond via PM to anyone I can.

Also, thanks for all the faves, alerts, etc, it is most encouraging.

2) I know the waiting has been ridiculous. Now I'm up to my neck in college, work and a frikkin garage remodel for family. Whew. Still, sorry I kept you all waiting.

3) I've been bashing heads with my uncooperative muse yet again. She's flighty, I'm always tired now, so I hope this doesn't dissapoint.

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Tony doesn't look up as Loki enters, pausing in the threshold as he decides that the mortal isn't indeed in any immediate danger, but still the mortal beckons him over to sit on the nearby stool, and when Loki complies, before he has the chance to say anything, pliers – gripping in their tips a coil obviously charged with repulsor energy which is still attached to the piece of armor Tony has disassembled - are pushed into his hands:

"Hold on to those for me, would you?"

Loki sighs - sitting closer to the mortal than he has been in quite a while … aches deep inside him – and replies wearily:

"This is not why you called me."

"Eh", Tony shrugs, motioning with his head at one of his robots:

"True, it isn't, but you are here, and you are not about to get glitchy when this fires off the occasional low-yield EMP."

Loki smiles slightly at that statement and flexes his fingers as the coil twists in his hold. Were he human, this would have been a near-impossible task, but he isn't, and it requires little enough effort that he is free to just observe his reincarnated mortal love – who looks so much like in his former life, absorbed in the task at hand as he is, that Loki cannot help but see all the similarities and none of the differences.

He almost jumps at the mortal's words when finally he speaks:

"So, Sherlock Holmes was real then, and … he was important to you?"

Loki doesn't reply – can't reply though the burning knot in the back of his throat – but he sees in Tony's eyes that the rawness of his reaction had been answer enough, no turning back now, and there is no reason left not to reply to Tony's next question:

"Then were you lovers or was it something strictly intellectual?"

The mortal doesn't sound like he prefers any particular answer, though the fact that he has to ask at all, that every memory had been stripped from him, grates more than Loki can truly bear.

Still he forces himself to answer quietly, looking anywhere but at Tony:

"At first, it was intellectual… and then eventually, yes, we were lovers, just once… before a famous writer was imprisoned and ruined for far less than what we had done, and I left this world, unwilling to be Holmes's ruin, because I could have kept him safe from their brand of justice, but he'd still have lost everything had we been discovered."

Tony nods, absorbing this information, and when he does speak again, his quiet tone is gentler, more understanding, than Loki has allowed himself to expect:

"He didn't survive at the Falls, did he?"

Loki's eyes snap up to meet the mortal's – stricken by a wave of pain as he cannot help but be reminded of Holmes in one of those more vulnerable moments that their time together had at long last allowed Loki to glimpse – trembling inside with equal parts devastating loss and admiration because there is more of Holmes alive in Tony Stark than Loki had ever dared hope, and he chokes out finally:

"No, he'd already been badly injured by Moriarty, and then with the icy temperature of the water, and the force with which he hit it … By the time I found out, it was too late."

Loki trails off, unwilling to relive those terrible memories again in greater detail, but it turns out he doesn't need to, because Tony's hand is suddenly resting over his, as the mortal says sincerely – despite the fact that he's the last person in the world Loki should be recieving comfort from – tone soft:

"And at some level, you blamed yourself for not being there. You've never stopped. Don't do this to yourself, Loki."

Loki can only laugh bitterly, before falling silent as Tony continues, pulling his hand away as if realizing only now that he'd reacted on instinct, moving it to his chest where his fingers tap out a restless beat on the surface of his Arc-reactor:

"I uh… I had a friend once. He befriended me even though he had no real reason for doing so while we were stuck in a cave together for three months. He also saved my life, twice… but I couldn't save his."

The mortal's tone breaks, and Loki has to fight not to reach out in kind and attempt to offer some comfort, reminding himself that the mortal has no reason to trust him. Then Tony roughly runs a hand through his hair, dropping it back to the table as he turns to listlessly stare at the machinery laid out there, finishing wearily, tone raw and tired:

"He died, right before my eyes, and it still feels like it was my fault – it certainly was my weapons that killed him, and he'd been buying me time to get to safety - but he was also the first person to look at me and see something more than a drunk and bloody playboy… and I know he wouldn't have wanted me destroying myself with regrets."

Loki almost wants to laugh – bitterly - because this incarnation of his lost love is an expert at burdening himself unnecessarily with regrets that are not his to shoulder, something that hadn't been a problem in his last life, but he bites back the comment, deciding that this is not the time or the place.

Tony makes a visible effort to force back the raw grief – one more thing that hasn't changed because Holmes in any incarnation treasured his few friends above all things, even if this later one is more open – and speaks again, voice steadier:

"I never knew your detective, but if he was the kind of man I'd imagine him to be, and given your affections for one another, I think he'd have wanted to see you happy – not destroying yourself like this – and I'd also imagine that he'd never have blamed you."

Loki smiles through the pain and the tears that threaten, because Tony's assumptions are all spot on – of course they'd be, he hadn't known the detective, he'd been the detective – and Loki had seen as much through the Doctor's memories of that fateful night on which Holmes had died.

Holmes had wanted Watson to move on, and find happiness elsewhere. It had showed only too clearly in his gaze, along with the rawest apology, right before Holmes had thrown himself and the accursed Professor to their mutual death… and Loki knows that Holmes would have wished as much for him.

Despite all that Loki only feels more desolate, because more than ever Tony reminds Loki of his lost love… but what should have been a happy moment is tainted by the fact that while he has a version of his love back, that person is lost forever, identity and memories ripped away in the cycle of reincarnation… and even if that didn't matter, they can never have a future together.

Loki had effectively killed that option. He still isn't sure why the mortal isn't in armor, at least, with him so close.

Forcing himself to nod, Loki remains in silence, long enough for Tony to finish repairing this piece of his armor, before rising to leave.

He'd forgotten how fast Holmes had been on his feet – something that also apparently is true in this life – when Tony's suddenly standing next to him, left hand wrapped around Loki's wrist, his right planted on the wall, barring Loki's progress, and the gesture strikes Loki to the very core of his shattered heart because Holmes had been the only mortal to ever knowingly block the path of one so much stronger than himself, trusting Loki – with all his flaws that Holmes knew only too well – not to hurt him, and despite everything, Tony seems to have elected to do the same.

In this moment, as he twists to look at the mortal who is standing close enough that he can feel the warmth of his body crossing the small space between them and seeping into Loki's comparatively cooler form, he is overwhelmed again by the similarities and filled with the irrational urge to close that distance, unable to help wondering if he'd taste the same in this life – probably not, Tony doesn't smoke – or if he'd feel the same – again probably not, since Holmes had no experience in this and Tony's had plenty, despite the fact that in both lives he's always been for the most part bitterly isolated.

Tony breaks the silence, voice still open, but filled with curiosity once more rather than emotion:

"How does this relate to me?"

Loki shakes his head, at some level hoping that his unwillingness to answer will be taken as dismissal of the possibility – because they can never make this work – but it is a failed attempt, no surprise really with who the mortal was.

"I know it does", the mortal insists, looking away in thought before pinning Loki again with that all-seeing gaze he had loved so dearly.

"The moment you decided to save my life, it was because you realized something… something which makes me remind you of him, and that has only become more prevalent. More and more often you look at me like you are seeing someone else who isn't all there, for all that you wish they were, and it's him… I know it."

Loki closes his eyes, fighting back the need to let it all out and allow the pieces to fall where they will, then he sighs realizing that his reaction would have been telling enough for Holmes, and Tony's not far behind on his deductive skills, despite the fact he hasn't made a profession out of their application.

"Ah, so I'm right. But what is the connection, Loki? Is it heredity through some relation of his? Appearances? The way our minds work? What is it?"

"You are him", Loki thinks, desperate at some level to reply with the truth which Tony will never reach alone – even Holmes wouldn't have guessed reincarnation – just as at some level he wants to crush his lips to those of the mortal, fingers tangling in those shorter now but so familiar locks, and let his actions make at least his present feelings clear, because even if the result is rejection, it can only get more painful in time.

In the end he does neither – how can he when he'd tried to brutally kill the very mortal he'd loved and failed and mourned, the mortal he'd made himself almost forget because it hurt too much to remember - instead raising his free hand to ghost along the side of Tony's face, never actually making contact as he whispers:

"You'd never believe me."

With those words, Loki wrenches himself away, careful only not to hurt the mortal whose answering challenge follows him out the door:

"Try me."

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