4
Save me-
Save me Stark.
The metallic tang of blood and desperation.
Arms, reaching out but he can't grab them and Loki is water, a mirage;
The god opens his mouth and stretches out his hands but all Tony grabs is red water and he's bleeding, bleeding-
Save me, Stark.
Save me-
Tony wakes up, heart racing so fast that he thinks he's about to get a stroke.
'JARVIS, lights.'
Silence answers him, and it's a long, painful moment before he realises he's not at the tower – hasn't been for months. He's on the run. They're both on the run.
Breath still tripping, he reminds himself of the important things.
The only important thing.
He lays a trembling hand on the sleeping figure beside him, smooth his palm over the curve of Loki's arm and curls his fingers into the dark hair, reminding himself of its physical reality. He watches the god slumbered on unawares, so very harmless looking; so very human in his oblivion.
He forces himself to recover. Focuses on breathing, focuses on flexing his fingers into the lock of Loki's hair- now grown out in their year-long exile, as soft and black as sin. He draws out upon the inhale. Focuses on the exhale.
He doesn't go back to sleep.
~o0o0o~
They do find him, eventually. Of course they find him; it was never a matter when, but a question of who first.
He knows that The Avengers had been keeping tabs on Loki's whereabouts and vice versa in their mutual attempts to track Tony down , which has been hilarious as hell until the day he discovers that they'd started working together to find him. The forces of good and evil, united against the singular madness of Tony Stark. He suppose he should be flattered, but he's since then been too busy trying to stay one step ahead.
The moment he'd been certain that his Loki wouldn't attempt to escape or betray him to his creator, Tony had packed their bags and flown them to Mexico in a stealth plane. There for a time they could breathe freer if not with more urgency, and it is there Tony finishes the magic-diffusing bracelets which effectively renders Loki almost mortal – impossible to track nor compel by his creator to return to him.
He'd kissed Loki's wrist in apology before snapping them on. The god had said nothing; merely rubbed his wrist and beckoned Tony back to bed. He seemed more at peace after that; if emptier, more silent than before. Tony knows that the bracelets have cut Loki adrift, like a marionette that had suddenly been severed. It is always on the tip of his tongue to tell Loki that he merely has to ask, and Tony would take them off again, damn the consequences.
But he never makes this offer. And Loki does not ask.
Life turns into endless days of hiding; of moving numerous times, jumping borders, of changing disguises and leaving false trails. Of endless nights laying awake waiting for Loki to get tired of doing this and betray him. He isn't a fool, but a part of Tony has always known he's on a fool's errand.
But the bracelets buys them a year, and he can't bring himself to regret it.
At least he doesn't, until the day the Avengers finally succeeds in tracking him down.
~o0o0o~
He is not surprised they send Bruce first, to talk some sense into him, followed swiftly by Captain America. He is however surprised that Thor had allowed it, impatient thunder god that he is. Perhaps he's somewhere else, holding the real Loki at bay.
It isn't until Hawkeye makes his entrance with the Widow in tow that the party picks up,
'Congratulations are in order, Tin Can, you've finally out-crazied the god of crazy himself.'
Tony gave a bark of laughter from behind his suit, guns trainned on his former compatriots. 'I'm not the one working with him.'
'No you're just sleeping with him,' the Widow says cooly. 'Summer holiday is over.'
Bruce tries to come closer, his hands raised. 'Tony, what you have there is not even Loki. He's just a doll, He can barely speak or move.'
'Of course he can,' Tony turns to Loki. 'Say hi to our unwanted guest.'
But Loki just sits on the bed, his head slightly tilted, lips parted in waiting. He appeared not to notice the shattered glass; the Avengers standing around them with varying shades of shock.
'Ok. I guess you're feeling a bit shy with all that company, I would too,' Tony swept his gaze around, rapidly calculating his chances, looking for gaps and weaknesses whilst he continues to shot of his mouth. 'Well its been a wonderful reunion folks. We should do it again someday, but now you've seen my handsome mug and how wonderfully well we're doing, you lot can take yourself off again.'
'Bullshit Stark,' Hawkeye spat on the ground. 'You look like death warmed over, you've clearly gone fucking insane and managed to stick the foot that's usually in your mouth into your own fucking grave; and we're here to stop you from sticking the other foot in whether you like it or not. So come along nicely or we'll make you.'
'Bite me,' Tony says as he raises his suit's repulses at Hawkeye's drawn bow, and it goes downhill from there. It goes downhill very fast, because Loki suddenly enters the fray, and he might be a weakened version but Tony had given him the means to defend himself, and he doesn't hold back when he opens fire on Clint.
Hawkeye rolls away, voice raising to a shriek. 'A suit? You built Loki a fucking suit?'
'I sure fucking did.' Tony grins viciously from behind his own faceplate as he watches Loki's custom suit mould themselves into a perfect cocktail of dark green and red brass, refined and deadly. His copy might be a shadow of the original in terms of strength and magic, but Tony is a god of the machines, capable of shaping his own fate, capable of giving back what is lost, and looking at Loki now, he can barely keep from crowing in triumph.
Let them come.
Bruce's urgent voice cuts his triumph short. 'Tony! You have to listen to us, Loki is on his way, and we need to get you out of here right now – he's sworn to kill you-'
'Because you kids were so nice to lead Tall, Dark and Crazy to rain on my honeymoon.' But even Tony cannot escape the way his copy suddenly jerks, flickering suddenly to life at the mention of his maker's name.
'This is madness,' Bruce said, and turns away. 'I can't be here, I'll- I know you Tony. There's no happy ending for you on a road like this.'
The words makes him hurt in a way he didn't know possible, probably because its Bruce, and the sound of Bruce's voice is like the memory of rain and ice cream and computer games; all the innocent things before- just before, and Tony's laughter is forced, chokes past his throat like broken glass. 'Yeah what did you expect when you chase us around like dogs? Surely you didn't think I'd make it that easy for you to arrest us.'
'Stop! Stop fighting. Dammit!' Steve yanked off his mask beseechingly. 'We're not here to arrest you, Tony, we care about you-'
'If you care so much, Steve, you'd leave us the fuck alone. We were doing mighty fine before you fellows came bargaining in here, now my insurance premium's going to go through the stratosphere-'
'Tony, listen to us. You're not well, you need treatment.' Steve pleaded. 'Pepper has been crying her eyes out for months-'
'I'm sure you'll send her my best, and she should feel free to rename the company Basil Co because I'm not com-'
'Tony, this is not a joke, we need to evacuate you n-' Steve breaks off when the ceiling glass shatters suddenly above them, an explosion like an earthquake that shakes the ground and every pillar in the building.
Then there is nothing more to say, because the god of mischief has finally arrived, and there is blood on his lips and red vengeance in his eyes.
And oh, he is glorious in his rage.
~o0o0o~
He keeps digging, digging, his hands bleeding, aching. His fingers alternate between being completely numbed out and severely cramping up; shooting sparks of pain up his knuckles; nails half torn away - but he cant stop bcause the soil keeps covering Loki's face, and he digs faster, harder, until his breath streams like miasma before him.
It had taken him time, too much time to confirm that Loki hadn't stopped sinking into the soil. He had fought the evidence before him for too long, denied what is happening too stubbornly and now Loki was-
It's not happening. Its not, but he keeps digging, because he doesnt know what else to do.
Save me.
Save me.
Hang on to me. Hang on.
The earth was swallowing Loki whole, like a meal, and he couldn't stop what was happening, his own goddamn fucking dream was no longer under his control.
He screams and yanks and digs, but his beautiful vessel doesn't stop sinking, and Tony resorts to holding his neck up, then to blowing air into the god's lips to keep him breathing.
'Save me- save-'
'Hang on, Loki, hang on just hangonhangon- '
'Tony,' the god chokes on mud to whisper. There was a despair in his beloved's face that trips his heart to shreds. Loki's eyes are shattered jewels, reflect ingback at him an acknowledge he cannot accept.
'Don't let go. Please, please don't let go.'
But a part of Tony knows he wouldn't be able to dig him out fast enough.
"That which is dreamed can never be lost, can never be undreamed."
― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman