"It can't be that bad," said Pepper at the other end of the line.
Stepping into the elevator, Tony couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"No, it actually is," he said. "They treat me like I'm a kid – I mean, have they forgotten who finances, like, almost half of their equipment – including, might I add, Cap's blue spandex?"
"Well, you're just going to have to trust them, Tony, I'm sure they all want the best for you. And the doctor's know what they're talking about. It's better that you do a full recovery now, than to go out and get even more hurt. You don't want to be a liability."
"But I'm fine! I'm perfectly fine –"
"You were in space, Tony, you almost died. You're lucky to be alive, let alone have a fully functioning brain. If the the vacuum of space didn't kill you, the fall back to Earth might have done it. You should be thankful."
"Jesus, thankful? Thankful? I've been bedridden for weeks, and now that I'm finally getting better, I'm suddenly banned from participating in battles! But you're saying I should be thankful that I get to stay cooped up inside this damned tower –"
"It's your own tower, Tony."
"– all the while, I get the privilege of standing in as a freaking babysitter to the mother of all brats. Surely, that I'm not unfit for! And why? Because Fury doesn't even trust his own men to do their goddamned jobs."
A cheerful 'ding' announced that the elevator had stopped and Tony entered the empty corridor, his footsteps echoing as he made his way through the long, bare hallway. He was in the basement of Stark Tower now. Reaching the end of the hallway, he punched in a code, pressed his fingertip to a screen and stepped through the solitary door that quietly slid open before him.
"It's bullshit, Pepper, pure bullshit. I'm an adult, I can handle myself. I swear, Fury thinks he's our freaking nanny sometimes, and it's starting to piss me off. He's doing it just to aggravate me."
"Tony, you're being paranoid. Just relax for a while and wait it out, everything will be back to normal in no time."
"So you keep saying."
They exchanged another few words, and then said goodbye. Tony sighed as he hung up and pushed the phone into his pocket. He stood for a moment in the middle of the room, quietly thinking, his eyes blank. Remembering what he was there for, he looked up and scanned the room. He knew it quite well, of course, since he had designed and partly built it, but it was the first time since the completion that he was there, seeing it now in it's finished state.
For the most part, it served as a half-archive, half-second lab. At one end stood about a dozen large shelves, rising all the way to the ceiling and all jammed full with folders, books, rolls of blueprints, boxes filled with notes, photos and the occasional scientific journal. The other end, with it's workbenches, a desk and a few bots which Tony had yet to activate, looked much more like an actual workspace – apart from one aspect; it was completely untouched.
And then, of course, there was the space right across from where he had entered, at the furthest end of the room: a large glass chamber with luminescent white flooring – and in it, one of the main reasons for his sensationally bad mood that evening. Two guards stood at either side of its entrance, stoically observing Tony.
Loki was sitting on his bed, to all extents and purposes shackled by a pair of large, stiff chains at his wrists, keeping him from wandering away from the modest bed. Quietly observing, but hardly acknowledging Tony, he just sat there still; leaned against the wall with knees drawn up and his hands resting upon them. His green cape, boots and dark leather coat lay on the floor beside the bed, along with the horned helmet. Without them, he seemed remarkably little and ungodly. Weak, even. Just a man in shackles.
Tony thought for a moment and decided to station the guards in the hallway instead. Might as well take this opportunity to get some work done, he thought, which would be easier said than done with those two goons constantly watching.
"With all due respect, sir," answered one of the guards, "director Fury does not think it wise –"
"I don't bloody care what director Fury thinks – I paid for this entire building, so I call the shots. Now get the hell out of here before I tell JARVIS to electrocute the both of you through the floor."
"Sir." The guard nodded and they both left the room, quietly sliding the door shut behind them.
"Christ," Tony mumbled, rubbing his temples with a grimace. He was starting to feel a migraine coming on. Looking up, he noticed Loki still observing him, still motionless. "What the hell are you looking at, Rudolf?"
Loki made no reply – in fact he didn't seem to react at all – and Tony quickly turned his back on him, moving over to the desk. He booted the computer, hooked in to the main network and pulled up some blueprints of his suit. He had been working on some alterations for a while, but what with the hole Loki-trying-to-become-the-ruler-of-Earth-thing and recovering from battle, he'd been forced to put it all on hold for a few weeks.
With the press of a few buttons, a hologram image of the blueprints appeared before him. Tony looked at it and sighed.
The suit had changed his life in so many ways; it had become a part of him, for better or for worse. In it, he was the epitome of an American hero, fighting for peace and justice. He had gained so much from it. And still, thinking about it, he sometimes felt uneasy about how quickly it had merged into him, how quick the process of Tony Stark and Iron Man synthesizing had been.
Looking at it now, he thought of the others. Out fighting, most certainly in the heat of the battle already. Thinking of it all from the outside, he realized (though not for the first time) how bizarre it was that they – a small group of people – continuously geared up and went out to fight for all of humanity. The responsibilities, the expectations, the stress – it was all so... inhumane. No one person should have to bear that much responsibility. Even if he is a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Still he yearned for it now. Why was that?
Lost in his thoughts, Tony merely stared at the blueprint without moving, for a long while. It wasn't until a light rustle of chains coming from the glass chamber reached his ears that he slowly returned to the place and situation he was actually in. He looked over at Loki, who was now sitting a different position; legs outstretched in front of him, hands resting on his thighs.
It must get so uncomfortable in there, Tony thought to himself.
Without really knowing why, he got up to his feet and approached the chamber. Stopping a few steps from the it, he took a closer look at the prisoner bound in there. He realized there was something almost familiar in Loki's features. Staring back at him now, Loki looked nothing like the fierce, power-hungry villain that Tony had fought a while back. In fact, without his usual attire, defenseless and locked up in this cell, Loki looked so much more like a human being than Tony had ever seen him.
"Enjoying the exhibit?" came Loki's slithering voice, the slightest smile creeping upon his thin lips.
Tony didn't reply. Something had caught his curiosity – questions, suddenly emerging in his mind, as he eyed Loki through the glass. A desire to understand the inner workings of this chaos god swept over him, and for the life of him he couldn't explain why. By all means, he loathed Loki and everything he stood for. Yet, he realized now that he found it hard to draw any parallels between the weakened figure before him and the ravenous conqueror he had battled against. Suddenly he wanted to know why that was. What was it that drove one to become the other? What could possibly evoke such anger in a creature as docile as this one?
"JARVIS, remove his shackles."
"Sir, I'm not sure that is such a wise decision."
"I didn't program you to have opinions, now remove them."
As the shackles unhinged, fell off Loki's wrists, and disappeared into the wall, Tony made note of how out of place they seemed; crude and medieval in comparison to the otherwise high-tech, glossy equipment in the building. Come to think of it, he didn't even remember having them installed in the first place.
Surprised by the sudden release, Loki jerked back slightly, as if awaiting some other type of shackles to take the place of the old ones. When none came, he began to carefully roll out his wrists and move his arms about, feeling the benefits of a full range of motion again. Stretching his arms out in front and above his head, he forgot for a moment to glare at Tony, standing on the other side of the glass.
Tony couldn't help but wonder just how long he'd been wearing those shackles. How long had Loki been their captive now? He hadn't counted the weeks.
"What now?" This from Loki, his glaring green eyes once more piercing through the glass. "Are you taking me somewhere else?"
Tony shrugged and shifted his weight. "I just figured it would be nice to be able to scratch your ass again."
Loki cocked an eyebrow at him, rubbing his left wrist carefully.
"Is that so? I wouldn't normally take you to be the considerate type." Tony didn't reply – because what was he supposed to say? He didn't even know himself why he was acting this way. They were both silent for a moment, then Loki said: "Is it true your friends left you behind to go into battle tonight?"
"How did you know that?" asked Tony, suddenly interested.
"I overheard you talking on the phone earlier," Loki replied furtively.
Tony furrowed his brow. But that wasn't possible, was it? By the time he'd reached this room, he hadn't explicitly mentioned the others to Pepper, had he? But how else could Loki have been overheard?
"It's true. I apparently am not fit for fight quite yet."
"You seem vivid enough."
Loki inched over to the edge of the bed, placing his bare feet on the cold white tiles. He took a moment to straighten his back and roll out his neck before standing up, regaining his tall posture. As he lengthened his asthenic physique toward the ceiling, some of the vulnerability seemed to run off him. Dressed in what seemed to be a simple, long-sleeved undershirt, matching the dark green of his eyes, as well as his usual leather pants, the pale light of his cell made him stand out. His hair was pushed back as always, only slightly messier than usual.
He began pacing the cell slowly, apparently unbothered by Tony's inquisitive gaze.
"How come you haven't tried to escape your cell yet?"
Casting Tony a quick glance over his shoulder, Loki gave a vague smirk, all the while continuing to pace the floor, hands locked at his back.
"Your safety-measures are simply too great for me," he said with an edge of mischief in his tone.
"Somehow, I doubt that," Tony replied, realizing something for the first time. "While they were designed by one of this country's – or, okay, let's face it, one of the world's – most brilliant minds, let's not forget that they are still man-made, and that you are – as much as I try to deny it – a god. And one with magical powers, no less."
Loki snorted humorously. "Doubting your own creations, Stark?"
"It's not them I'm having doubts about, it's you. Your motive, to be precise."
"What makes you think I have one?" said Loki, pacing, pacing, pacing.
"Oh, please. You're the god of mischief, of course you have a motive."
A raspy, menacing laugh escaped Loki as he suddenly halted, turning to face Tony. As he slowly, creepingly moved closer to the glass separating them, something dark lurked in his eyes. They seemed hollow, his face emaciated; cheekbones protruding, chin and nose sharp as knives. He seemed tired, yet he walked with a straight posture, not once breaking his eye-contact with Tony.
He stopped a couple of inches from the glass – so close to it that his breath fogged it slightly.
"Your woman was right about you. You are paranoid." His voice now incisive, practically acidic.
Wondering quietly how Loki could have possibly heard that, Tony took a step back – the bulletproof glass suddenly seemed a futile defense against a god of chaos. But Loki didn't try to attack or intimidate him any more than he already had; he merely stood there, hands behind his back, staring assertively into Tony's eyes. For a long while, they did or said nothing, the distance between them boiling with tension.
"What's this?" said Loki with a satisfied smile. "Am I intimidating you?"
"Not at all, I just prefer observing your, uh, lovely figure from afar."
The sarcasm didn't quite stick; Tony's voice was starting to sound unsteady. Why was he nervous? If Loki was going to break out, surely he would've done it by now. Still, Tony couldn't help but be thankful that he hadn't sent the guards home …
"You aren't a very successful actor, Stark. Then again, I suppose you are used to hiding in that suit of yours."
Tony felt his control over the situation slip. He needed to change it. Loki seemed almost to be getting stronger from his uncertainty, and the thought unnerved him. Being dominated, looked down upon by a slimy worm like Loki – not very popular if you have an ego like Tony Stark's. He inhaled deeply, straightened his back and stepped forward again.
"At least I look good in it. I mean, really, at least it doesn't have antlers. Minimizes the risk of being hit by a truck in the middle of the road."
A grin unraveled itself upon Loki's lips that soon evolved into laughter. As he laughed, his face began to change, it's features distorting, broadening, as well as the rest of his body. Before his eyes, Tony saw Loki's entire figure transform into a different, one very familiar. By the time his laughter died out, Tony realized he was looking into his own eyes. Loki had changed into the mirror image of Tony Stark, outfit and all.
Tony stared at him, mouth gaping, unable to utter a word. So that part of the Norse myth was true too.
Loki, the shape-shifter.
"Speechless? Why, I never thought I'd see the day." Loki still had his own voice, and it sent a shiver down Tony's spine to hear it coming from his own mouth.
"Stop that," he said.
Loki laughed. "I wouldn't be able to stand looking at myself if I were you, either."
"Oh, I enjoy looking at myself. I'm just not particularly fond of copycats." Not the best comeback, but hell, he was still a bit shaken by the situation. Quite frankly, he was starting to get pissed off.
It wasn't just the transformation. Something in Loki's voice – perhaps the mocking tone of it – or the way he refused to avert his eyes, was gnawing at Tony's temper. Really, he should have known from the start that someone like Loki could not be reasoned with. What had he even expected? A civil conversation? A polite exchange of words? Even if it were possible to normally converse with him, Loki would most likely just spit out lies, trying to manipulate you with every breath he took.
Just then, Loki changed back into his true form, regaining his usual slimy smirk, but a bored look in his eye. "I won't torture you," he said. "It must be hard enough to face yourself every day as it is."
"Dude, what is your deal?" Tony spat out, suddenly out of patience. "What horrible time in your childhood traumatized you so badly that you turned into this freak-show of person? You call yourself a god, but all I ever see in you is a kid, a little kid trying to gain the respect he never got by bullying other people, and always failing, because you know what? Bullies never win."
The smile quickly faded from Loki's lips, but something else took its place; the shadow of insight brushing across his face.
"Of course. I see it now," he said quietly. "You want to get into my head, don't you? You're trying to understand me, and it frustrates you that you can't."
"Well, I always did find sociopathic wannabe-dictator's particularly fascinating," Tony replies, trying his best to sound confident.
"Do I ... intrigue you, Stark? Does my dark and damaged soul stir something within that hardly-beating heart of yours? Do you, perhaps even … see yourself in me?"
Tony snorted loudly. He was really beginning to lose his cool. "You and me have nothing in common," he sneered.
"You would tell yourself that."
The anger was begin to build in Tony's limbs, his fists clenching. He did not have the patience for this bullshit, not today, and he was starting to feel really mad at himself for even thinking that Loki might just be a normal guy underneath all that chaos.
"I, for one, think we have more in common than you would like to admit," Loki sneered. Unaware of it, Tony had gradually moved closer to the glass, and was now pressing his palm against it as he stared down into Loki's empty, green eyes. "You may be a mere human," Loki went on, "but under different circumstances, you might well have turned out a lot like someone like me. You got lucky."
"There's one huge difference between you and me," said Tony, turning his hand into a fist, so close to that glass now that his nose almost touched it.
"And what might that be?"
"You're a monster, so vile that not even your own brother cares for you. You have no one. You're completely alone in the universe."
Loki smiled ironically. "And do you really think that you are any different? Do you think that anyone would ever truly love you without your suit and your riches? That anyone really respects or looks up to the man that you are, deep down inside, beneath the metal? If so, you are a fool. A fool to believe yourself better than me, simply because you have deceived your loved ones better than I have mine."
Something snapped in Tony's head. His mind went blank, his vision blurry and dark, as he darted for the door, smashed the panel beside it and threw himself into the glass chamber. Diving directly for Loki's throat in a primal, raging fit, he wanted nothing more than to rip his heart out of his chest.
Unprepared for the sudden attack – and perhaps not as alert after his time in captivity – Loki tried to dodge out of danger, but failed, and they both fell onto the floor with a hard THUD. Tony straddled Loki, trying to pin his hands down with his knees, while at the same time savagely choking Loki's pale, narrow throat. Loki gargled and jerked beneath him as he struggled to get free.
"You think you can hurt me," he wheezed, his face turning brightly red at a rapid speed. "It takes a lot more than lack of air to kill a god."
"I guess I'll just have to entertain myself in different way then," Tony said, and proceeded to ferociously punch Loki in the face. Blood spurted from his nose and onto Tony's face, but he didn't care; he was too blinded by anger and frustration and the feelings of injustice that he'd been trying to ignore, to really realize what he was doing. So he kept punching, and punching, and punching …
"ENOUGH!"
Tony was violently jerked off of Loki and thrown straight into the glass wall, as if he'd been punched in the gut by Hulk. The glass vibrated for a moment and then went still. Tony's head was spinning, little white lights dancing in front of his eyes. He moaned and raised his head slightly.
Loki rose from the floor and attempted to regain his composure, but the rage-induced spell had left his hair disheveled and his gaze distraught, almost demented-looking.
Moaning, Tony struggled to stay conscious. The throw had sent him head-first into the solid wall – which, had he been wearing his suit, wouldn't be such a big deal. Unfortunately, the human skull is not made out of metal.
Squatting next to him, Loki tried to catch his breath, touching the bruises on his cheeks.
"Pathetic," he said with aversion. "How easily you humans are overcome by your emotions, how you let them control and even blind you. Such primal creatures. You are but animals. Like dogs walking on their hind legs."
"Affh ..." Tony mumbled, his head moving wearily from side to side.
Cupping his chin, Loki forced Tony to face him, but Tony could hardly keep his eyes open.
"I might be a power-hungry villain – delusional, even," Loki hissed. "But at least I have never pretended to be something I am not." He paused, and then continued in a different tone of voice: "Do you want to know why I have not yet tried to escape these facilities? Why I so willingly let myself be imprisoned?"
Tony was starting to feel nauseous, and could barely register a third of what Loki was saying. He could feel Loki's tight grip at his jaw, but his brain didn't make the connection that it was Loki holding it. The bright white of the room felt blinding.
"You were correct before," Loki went on. "I could easily escape, had I wanted to. Yet I have not had the desire to leave." Tony caught Loki's gaze under fluttering eyelids; for a brief moment he perceived Loki's presence. There was blood running over his lips, and his green eyes were glossy, almost dejected. Then Tony's mind started spinning again, and he closed his eyes. "Frankly," Loki went on, his voice quieter now, "I did not want to leave. Because where would I go? Certainly not back to Asgard, where eternal punishment would await me. And to live in solitude in some desolate realm, plotting my next attack? I couldn't bare the thought. Not after all that struggling, the battles, the … the failure. I am … I am simply … tired. So tired of everything. At least this place is peaceful. Or it was, before you came along."
Looking into Tony's face, Loki silenced. Still griping Tony's jaw firmly in his hand, he began to slide his thumb across the bearded chin. For a moment in time, the two of them sat in silence, physically connected by Loki's outstretched hand. For a moment, Loki seemed almost at ease.
Then he let his hand fall to his knees and sighed deeply. Running it quickly through his hair, he realized that what he had just said was true. He was tired. In spirit and in body. In mind and in heart. He glanced over at the man he had just incapacitated and wondered quietly what it would be like to trade places with him. To be Tony Stark for a day. To be human, and to be adored. A hero.
Without a word, he conjured a spell to undo the damage made to Tony's head. A slight moan escaped his lips as the spell worked it's way into Tony's body and began to take effect. When it was done, Loki proceeded to heal his own wounds, and to remove the blood from his face and hands. He sat quietly and waited for Tony to come to.
"What – …?" Tony uttered after a few minutes, still dazed. Loki sat back, leaning his hands against his knees. Watching. Waiting. "JARVIS?"
"Sir," replied the AI.
"Get me ..." Tony began, but he was unable to finish the sentence. He was still having a hard time seeing and thinking straight.
"I am sorry about the hit to the head." This from Loki, his voice softer than ever now. "I didn't intend for the impact to be so dramatic."
Tony looked up, and even managed eye-contact for a few seconds. The dizziness was slowly subsiding. He started to remember what had happened. Through the haze in his mind, Tony noticed that Loki was once more that defenseless, ungodly person that he had walked in on earlier. Blinking, the image of Loki became clearer. He looked perfectly unmenacing, all wide-eyed innocent.
"Let us not fight," he breathed.
"You couldn't handle me anyway," Tony replied with effort. Smiling, Loki averted his eyes to allow Tony a moment to compose himself.
Tony shuffled about clumsily, trying to get to his feet. His balance not yet entirely functioning, he swayed unsteadily from side to side as he pushed off the floor and stood up. Taking a step towards the door, he stumbled, and Loki was there within a millisecond, by his side, supporting him by placing his arm around the small of Tony's back.
They both stared at each other for a moment, one as surprised as the other. Suddenly bashful, Loki pulled away, scratched his neck and took a few steps back. He cleared his throat.
"Reflex," he said justifyingly.
Still swaying slightly, Tony didn't reply. It seemed he was still having a bit of trouble grasping the situation and understanding just why it was he was talking to the Norse god of mischief and chaos. The fact that he was being polite didn't really help with the matter, either.
Silence and stillness took its place between them. Loki watched the mortal man quietly; not with the imposing, piercing gaze of before, but with a gentler, more curious one. He was tired of being angry, and of trying to be intimidating. Tired of manipulating and lying. Looking at Tony Stark now – in essence, such a simple man, like all humans – Loki thought of how Tony would be dead within the century, while he would live on, as gods do, indefinitely. How bearable the pain would be if only he had known that there would eventually be an end to it. But there was not. Not for a god. How precious those rare moments of happiness.
Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt truly happy. Perhaps as a child. But that was a long time ago.
Ironic, Loki thought. The god envying the mortal. Wishing to be like him.
"I think I need to sit down," Tony said, shuffling toward the bed. He sat down and expected to sink into the mattress, but there hardly was one. Just a thin mattress pad, barely cushioning the hard surface of the bottom of the bed. "Rough," he said, patting it lightly.
"A bit. I don't sleep much anyway," said Loki. "How's the head?"
"Well, I think it's fair to say that my days as a genius are over." Loki let out a chuckle. Looking up at him, Tony noticed there was no blood or bruises on his face anymore. "Hey, what happened to the –". He gestured to his face.
"Oh, I cleaned it up a bit."
"Huh. Magic?"
"Indeed."
"That's handy."
"It is, actually."
Rubbing the back of his head, Tony sighed. Today had been a long day. Had he known it would end with a concussion, he might have never left his bed in the first place. Although his head was starting to feel a lot better by every passing minute. Magic, huh?
"How come Thor doesn't do magic like that?"
Loki shrugged. "Thor never developed an interest for that sort of thing. He was always more of a brawler. Prefers to rely on brute force and physical domination, rather than reasoning and cunning, as you may have noticed."
"So he's the brawn, you're the brains?"
"I suppose you could look at it that way," Loki replied with a smile.
"Make's sense."
Again, silence took place between them, and Tony felt like he should probably leave. Still, something seemed to keep him there, at the edge of that bed, Loki standing a few feet in front of him.
"Well, I guess I should get back to work," he said.
"Of course."
He stood up – this time without swaying – and moved toward the door, still wide open from when he'd rushed into the chamber. Loki's eyes followed him as he left the room, trailing along his back and his neck. Tony punched in a few numbers on the side-panel, and the door slid shut. Staring at it for a few seconds, he let his fingers hover at the panel. Then turned and went back to his desk.
Loki remained in the middle of the cell for some time – at first immobile like a statue, gazing off into the distance with his hands locked at his back. Coming to life, he returned to his bed, leaned back against the wall and went back to observing Tony through the glass. Occasionally, Tony would look up and catch his eye, silently awaiting any change. But Loki just sat there; statuesque, stoic.
A few hours passed. Tony worked away in silence. Then came JARVIS's voice with the message that the others had returned from battle.
"Thank you, JARVIS."
"Sir."
Tony saved his work and shut off the computer. Loki's eyes continued to follow him like those of a painting, as he walked to the door, hands in pockets. For a moment, he felt like saying something, and stopped. Then changed his mind, and left the room.
As the door slid shut, Loki sighed and sunk down a few inches. Perhaps he would try to sleep for a few hours tonight. His mind was fatigued, his heart weary. Sitting there, he felt nothing like a deity, but more like a man than ever before. A man in captivity, but also, in a way, a content man.
For the first time in his long life, Loki felt like he was just a man. A man relieved of his shackles.
AN: So, I may or may not continue this, and it may or may not turn into slash. Originally I intended for it to be just a one shot, but I feel like I could do so much more with it. No promises, though. Hope you enjoyed your read.