He woke up without realizing he'd gone to sleep. His eyes felt sore, and his heart beat thudded none-too-gently in his skull. He tried to sit up, or to open his eyes-and then immediately decided not to. His ribs ached when he tried to move, and he found-to his absolute horror-that even though he thought his eyes were open, it was still pitch black. There was something on his face-wrapped around his eyes, he quickly realized, relaxing a bit, and the throbbing, he slowly comprehended, came from the back of his skull.
"...Jarvis..." he tried to say. His words came out a crumpled mess, and they fell into an incoherent heap in the air. There was no answer.
So he wasn't home. He felt around him-the sheets were unfamiliar; starchy, thin and cheap. He reached back carefully over his head, worried he'd discover a pain in his shoulder, and felt the pillow. It was definitely his. The fabric was soft, smooth, and inviting, the stuffing plush and comforting. He could reach either side of the bed-it had round bars on either side. He sniffed at the air.
Oh, he realized, I'm in a hospital. He listened carefully and heard someones quiet breathing from a few feet away. I'm in a hospital, and whoever is in my room with me fell asleep.
He focused all his attention to his mouth, moving it carefully to see if he'd be able to speak properly before he said anything else.
"BARTON!" He yelled loudly. To his pleasure, he heard a surprised cry followed by the sound of a chair falling over-punctuated by creative curses. "What the hell happened?"
"Jesus, Tony. Was that really necessary?" He heard Clint stand up, fixing his chair, but not sitting in it.
"What the hell happened?" He ignored Clint's question. "Why am I in the hospital?" He reached back carefully, his fingers gingerly patting the bandage on the back of his skull.
"Dude, you tell me. One second we're all chillin' out, celebrating that we've won-next thing we know, you're screaming bloody murder in the bathroom. We come in; Loki's gone, you're down and out, bleeding everywhere, and hands cuffed." He could hear that was now Clint standing to the left. "By the looks of it, Loki grabbed you, slammed your head against the wall, and then used your chest as a dance floor. You're lucky he didn't kill you, the sick bastard."
"But then what the hell is this?" He gestured to the bandage across his eyes.
"He cast some funky spell on your eyes, man. Thor says you'll be fine in a day and a half, tops. But he said it'd be better if we covered them-the spell will make you see weird stuff. Not to mention your eyes look crazy as hell."
"And where exactly is everyone? I nearly die twice, and the team ditches me? Where's Rhodey and Pepper?"
"Pepper's handling press. She was here this morning, but you've been out for a about a week, thanks to Asgardian voodoo magic. They public's all convinced that you've gonna comatose for good or something. Throwing around a bunch of different ideas. Rhodey had to go for military work yesterday. Haven't been able to get in touch with him since. The team's out and about. Can't doesn't stop for one man, does it?"
Tony laughed-painfully. "And how'd you get stuck on baby-sitting duty?" He laughed.
"Like I said, it's been a week. We take turns based on who's needed the most. Bruce was here most of the time, but he went in to talk about the tesseract with Fury today. Thor's got the green light to take it back to Asgard, but it looks like he's staying behind until we catch Loki. Pepper will probably be here soon to take over. I texted her that you're awake, and the press conference should be about done. I've got a mission in Mexico, so I've gotta head out to catch a plane soon."
About fifteen minutes later, Pepper and Hawkeye switched out, as promised, and no sooner had he left was Pepper all over him, freaking out.
"Tony Stark you idiot!" She exclaimed. "I thought you were dead! Twice! First I see you flying into oblivion on the news-next thing I know you're in the hospital, passed out for a week!"
"Yeah, babe, missed you too," He replied.
Pepper. Pepper who hadn't answered his phone call. He'd been about to die-ready to die, in the way that Steve was so sure he didn't have the guts to do. About to die alone, an inconceivably large distance away from anyone he knew or loved, with the Chitauri, when Loki himself was going to keep his life. About to die and leave Pepper and Rhodey, who'd seen him graze death too many times already, because the council wanted to blow up Manhattan. Without even leaving them a body to bury.
"The press thinks you've been kidnapped by Loki-or that you-re dead or brain dead or scarred-everyone's panicking! And here you are, lying in bed, saying 'oh, missed you too babe,' like the sky didn't fall on your face!" She lightly hit his chest with a book.
"Ow, ow, ow! Pepper, I think you might've missed a thing or two along the way-but I did help save Manhattan. And that was my rib. Broken ribs, Pepper! Means do not touch." He said back, without any fierceness in his voice. They were bickering in their typical old-married-couple kind of way, and none of their harshness meant anything other than, "I was worried," and "I'm sorry,".
"If you could see the look I'm giving you right now, Tony..."
"I'd burst into flames, I'm sure,"
-
Tony was getting fed up of being treated like-someone other than himself. Questions, questions, questions. But he didn't have any answers. He didn't know how Loki had overcome him in the bathroom. He didn't remember if Loki had attacked him the second the door had opened, or if he'd boded his time and caught Tony with his guard down. Tony honestly didn't remember shit about the bathroom, and it was starting to piss him off that people were acting like they didn't believe him.
"It's not that, Tony. We're not stupid; we know you wouldn't willingly cover for this guy, "Natasha had said, upon sitting with Fury in his hospital room that night. "But Thor said that Loki used magic on you, and he can't tell if it's affected you memory or not. If there's a chance Loki had a reason to make you forget what happened in that bathroom, we need to know why. For all we know, he planned to get caught the whole time. He could've blurted out his whole plan to you and then blocked it off. If that's true, and there's a chance you've got important information locked up in your head, you're going to have to try and break down a door or two." She sounded perfectly reasonable, and he knew that they were right-Loki could have said anything to him, anything at all, and then just wiped it clean from his conscious mind. But that didn't stop him from being pissed off.
"And who's to say the information wouldn't be gone even if he had laid down the schematics for a master plan? He's no short stick, Natasha. Chances are, if he ever did tell me anything, it's wiped clean from my memory anyways. I don't see Loki leaving a back door open to a shed he doesn't need. If it was ever there, I'm willing to bet it's gone now." He was tired of this. Being asked the same questions over and over again. He didn't have anything to give them, and he felt crappy enough already without being constantly reminded that he'd been bested by Loki.
He heard Fury sigh. "Look, Stark; I know this is frustrating for you. But you're going to have to keep thinking. This information could save people's lives', Stark. And it could make things a hell of a lot easier for SHIELD and the Avengers. At the very least, it could sure do a lot to help everyone sleep at night."
Even with his eyes bandaged, he could picture their faces. Identical expression; serious, worried, with a small hint of compassion in their pupils. Any concern or relief they'd had when Tony had woken up was pushed to the back of their skulls, leaving room for all of the logic and reason they needed to deliver their point.
He heard his door open. "Hey, guys," It was Steve, and he didn't need to hear his voice to guess it. Something in the way his footsteps sounded gave it away. Or maybe he'd heard Steve was going to see him that night and he's only remembered subconsciously. "I'll take over."
"Think about it, Stark," Fury said, and Tony could hear the two of them standing up to leave. Their footsteps stopped at the door. "It's good to have you back."
Steve let the door swing closed behind them as he took Natasha's place in the chair closer to Tony's right shoulder.
"Well, we won." Steve smiled a bit awkwardly, even though Tony still had the bandage wrapper around his eyes.
He had a lot of things he wanted to say to Tony Stark. Tony had immediately rubbed him the wrong way, just as Howard had, and it was a bit off-putting, seeing someone who looked like an old friend of his, who acted like an old friend of his, walking around in a world completely different than the one his father had belonged to, that Steve used to be a part of. Tony had unnerved him in more ways than one. And, in the middle of all his attempts to fit in with this modern group of people who already had expectations and ideals about him, having Tony walking around cracking jokes about him didn't help. But he'd been wrong about Tony, the same way he'd been wrong about Howard. Tony wasn't a bad guy-and when it had come down to it, Tony was just as capable of working with a team, and sacrificing for the greater good as any soldier was. Steve couldn't help but admit that it was also pretty nice to have someone who was always straight with him around. Tony never beat around the bush, and while he's initially been put off with Tony's undeserved familiarity around him, he'd begun to realize that with Tony, that was just friendship. And he was starting to like it. His humor reminded him a bit of-dare he say it-Bucky, too. And Steve couldn't bring himself to hate someone that reminded him-even in a small way-of Bucky. Steve had to admit, watching Tony fly after the missile had completely changed his reluctantly impressed opinion of Tony, and it was safe to say that Steve had been more than a little relieved when Tony had turned out to be okay when the Hulk had brought him back.
He was getting used to the idea of a team; becoming acclimated with the reality that he wasn't going to be able to dwell on the past, and realizing that this team was his way to move on, He had a chance to form some real bonds here, with people who understood him better than a lot of the people he'd known in his own time, and who were a lot less fragile than they were. So when Tony had his second scare in the bathroom, Steve was a little more than freaked out.
But here he was now, sitting by Tony's bedside, smiling a smile that Tony couldn't see, and only thinking that he was glad to have his friend alive, awake, and in one piece.
"Yeah, I feel like I just got a gold metal in the Olympics," Tony responded.
They were both quiet for a second, and then, suddenly, they were laughing like they were never going to laugh again, smiles huge and bright like the sun, Tony's ribs protesting violently, and Steve felt okay.
-
Loki couldn't stop pacing. He was angry with himself, cursing under his breath, feeling like a fool. He'd undone it, undone everything, like an indecisive child, finally taking action, only to try and cover it up again two seconds later.
A fool; I am such a fool.
He sat down, and then stood up again, continued walking back and forth through the room, completely and totally lost at what actions he should take. He was panicking, and his vulnerable side was taking over. I am such a fool! A lame jester for fate to scoff at, slipping over my own decisions.
He'd stood their, in the bathroom, and he'd said it again.
"Join me, Stark," and his breath had been heavy, his voice was a thick, enticing whisper, his mouth fighting the mischievous smile attempting to take reign over his face. "you could have all you ever wanted,"
He hadn't expected Tony to go with him, truth be told. He wasn't upset that Tony hadn't jumped into his arms-he was simply afraid.
"Who says..." Tony had looked him in the eyes. "that you know what I want?"
And Loki had only laughed, unsurprised by the response. He stepped back, giving Stark some room. "I'm afraid this is the part where I get away," he'd said, raising an eyebrow and smiling.
He reached for Tony's face, wrapped his hand around it, casting a short spell that left Tony painless before slamming the back of his head against the wall, over thinking his strength and hitting it too hard. He threw Tony to the ground. Tony's eyes were wide, confused, and a bit taken aback. Loki couldn't stand them. They were looking at him, trying to figure him out, to tell if this was a real attempt at murder or if Loki was really only trying to cover their asses before he escaped. The answer was obvious-but having just had his skull smacked back against hard tile, he wasn't really thinking clearly. There was a pounding at the door; the team had heard the slam of bone to tile. He'd already locked the door. He gave himself five seconds without magic. He'd take a minute with.
Tony's eyes could have fooled anyone. They were shining with a pain he didn't feel, asking him questions and being defiant at the same time, as though he were completely lucid. They had a hate in them, and a disapproval. He couldn't look at them anymore. He cast another spell; Tony's eyes changed, becoming dark, lifeless, and unjudgemental-like the eyes of a corpse. Colors started blooming in his pupils, a deep, threatening red spreading to cover his entire eye. Loki-for final effect, made a bit of a show of bruising Tony's chest and abdomen-breaking a rib or two in the process.
But when he stood back, he didn't feel proud. He wasn't happy with the mischief he'd made, wasn't excited to have conquered his enemy-looking at Tony, Loki felt ashamed.
He put a mental block on Tony's brain before he left. He was too ashamed-of all the things he'd done-to let anyone but himself remember what had happened. He didn't want to think about the kiss-and how good and fulfilling it had been, knowing the mess he was making, the unnecessary mind games he was playing, and he wanted to forget how great of a kisser Tony had been, and how sure he was that Tony would've joined him when it ended, only to feel the bitter knife of rejection. He didn't want to think about how much he'd overdone the beating, using too many spells, too much force, and taking too much time. He didn't want to think of Tony's eyes.
He couldn't think about Tony's eyes.