Wow! Thanks so much for the reviews and favs/follows! This will definitely be a multi-chapter story. I usually just keep writing until it feels finished. Thanks again, and enjoy!

Loki stood in the cell SHIELD had rebuilt, trying hard not to lose his temper. During his punishment on Asgard, he'd been forced to relearn self-control and it had not been a task he'd taken to easily. He knew the mortals here on Earth thought he'd gotten off lightly, been slapped on the wrist and sent to his room without dinner, then forgiven like the prodigal son. He scoffed. Let them think that, if it made him that much more intolerable to them. They knew nothing of the horrors Odin was capable of contriving, and Loki had suffered through most of them at the hands of the guards he'd grown up being protected by, some of whom had delighted in the opportunity. But really, what was a little disembowlment between old friends?

He'd fought against the torture for an eternity to these mortals, another little trick of Odin's that allowed a pocket of time to surround Loki, shrinking three hundred years of punishment into a matter of months on Earth. By the time he'd finally relented, finally stopped cursing them and fighting back, every bone in his body had been broken dozens of times, every drop of his blood spilled over and over, his eardrums burst from the sound of his own screams. Yet every day was a new day, he would wake healed and perfect only to be torn apart again. He'd learned, in the hardest way possible, to swallow his pride and take his punishment, to suffer in silence. As he had gained control of his emotions and reactions, the punishments had become less harsh until they had stopped altogether. Then he was bound and gagged and left alone in a cold solitary confinement with nothing more than his own thoughts to occupy him. Eventually, he'd come to the conclusion that he really was a monster, too small and pathetic to be kept by his true parents, a tool stolen by Odin, a lesser being that could never live up to Thor, and that it had driven him insane. But he couldn't hate them anymore. Hate, like love, implied passion, and his passion had been beaten from him.

Loki sighed tiredly. Why Thor had brought him back to Earth to "help" was beyond him. He didn't want to be here, his supposed comrades in arms didn't want him here. He would fight for his brother though, for the only family, the only friend, he had left in the universe. Once he'd come to understand that it wasn't Thor's fault that Odin would never love him the way he loved Thor, that Thor was actually a good man now, that Thor had fought to free Loki during the worst of his punishment, Loki wanted his brother to have some measure of peace. And that peace would come when this world was safe, when Thor could be with his Jane Foster, and when Thor was convinced that Loki was sane again. So he fought to defend his brother's adopted home, however grudgingly, and would continue to do so.

Of course, that would be much easier to do if he weren't imprisoned again. Loki's rage boiled at the thought of that self-righteous Fury, at the way he thought he could manipulate the God of Lies. Fury actually believed he was getting something out of this situation, besides the headache Loki was sending his way when he was freed. How thick did the man have to be to think anyone believed his act of "taking precautionary measures" by arresting Loki after the battle? He hadn't hurt that girl and they all knew it. Fury wanted something from him. It was only a matter of time until he found out what.

As though conjured by his thoughts, the girl walked into the room, clutching a tall rolling metal pole as though it were all that was keeping her off the floor. She had to lean against the wall and he stared at her, noting the injuries to her face, and by the look of her, she was injured elsewhere as well. He remembered her painful reaction yesterday when he'd touched her side and it dawned on him that her ribs were most likely broken. She'd been standing when he had yanked her from danger, so when had she gotten broken ribs?

She needed rest, and he told her as much. She straightened and slowly made her way over to him, the pain evident in the lines of her face and the way she moved. What was she doing here? Where were her healers? Why wasn't anyone with her? She stopped in front of the door to his cell, leaning again.

"You saved me."

Loki was taken back, genuinely surprised. Yes, he'd saved her, but she'd felt it necessary to come all the way here from the infirmary to confront him about it? And with gratitude no less? What a strange mortal she was. Her voice was low, words drawn out in a way that suggested she was medicated. Maybe she didn't know where she was? She visibly shivered and it occurred to him that, if not for her obvious discomfort, she would be quite attractive like that, low voiced and trembling. He shook his head to clear it. Those were not appropriate thoughts to have about an injured woman, and even he had enough honor to be ashamed.

"Yes, you did." She mistook his head shaking for a denial of his helping her. "You saved my life. I remember some of it, and I just saw it all on video."

She seemed to run out of steam after her outburst, leaning more heavily on her pole. His eyes followed a clear tube from the bag hanging on the pole to a bandage on top of her hand. So she was medicated, though it didn't seem to be helping her much. She needed to lie down, before she fell and injured herself further. Best to get her to state her purpose so she could leave.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm getting you out."

Author's note: That line about hate implying passion similar to love is taken from an interview with Tom Hiddleston, who was discussing the brotherly relationship between Thor and Loki. I thought it was a beautiful sentiment, and of course it didn't hurt that Tom said it! :)