I'm so so so so so sorry this took so long! I was planning to have it up about 2 days later.

So I got about 1000 words in and writer's block pounced. I was hoping it would leave me alone, so I went about with work and my social life (or lack thereof) and hoped it would go away.

No such luck.

So I got to this after noon and I'm like 'nope.' This had to get done, otherwise it never would. So I have this playlist for writers block, and I put that on, and I'm like let's go!
So I did. And here it is.

I should probably start planning these before I write them...

The usual disclaimer of not owning anything.

A broken figure; a splash of pale skin on a crimson backdrop, bruised on a bloodied and once-clean cape.

Bruce's soft inhalation of breath as Tony gently lifted the cape from the top was more than enough to make him glad that the others had stayed in the kitchen. Thor was catching them up on what had happened, he was sure, so it was just Tony and Bruce in the bedroom with Loki.

Glancing at Bruce's horrified expression, Tony sighed.

"I'm going to get this suit off. Don't move, don't touch him. I don't want him waking up."

Bruce simply nodded as Tony left the room.

He was hurrying, his mind spinning, torn in different directions; in the room with the broken god, in his nightmares and memories of his own torture, in the way that Loki had flinched at every movement and every sound, the spirit of a proud and noble god broken.

Loki was intelligent and powerful. He sounded and carried himself like the aristocracy, strong enough not to show just how much living in his brother's shadow had affected him.

To say Tony didn't like torture on anyone was putting it mildly. He knew the dehumanization of it; how weak you felt afterwards, every part of you having been stripped away. For those strong enough to fight, there was that part in your mind that you could retreat to; surround yourself in a soft bubble of safety as you watch your body and the rest of your mind slowly deteriorate under the onslaught of hate and malevolence.

Loki had a mind like a vice. Tony knew this not only through Thor's stories, but also through his own experience.

As his suit was coming off, Tony was caught in the memory of pale-ice blue eyes meeting his in mild confusion.

Then there'd been the window, of course. Really, he should probably have known better than to taunt the already-maddened god like that, but hey! What was he if not reckless?

He was running back to the room now, anxious to get back to Loki. The protectiveness that he was feeling towards the Trickster was incomparable to any that he had felt before.

He wanted to see Loki as he was before: majestic and powerful; an arrogant smirk on his face as they sparred verbally. A welcome challenge.

Mind you, he'd rather not spar him physically. Again. That had ended with him going through a window in his surprise. He'd much rather Loki not be on the other side of the war again.

Sliding back into the room and into a chair next to the bed that Loki was lying on, he was unsurprised to see that Bruce had unpacked the first-aid kit, and the god was still unmoving.

Loki lived for conflict. It was the only source of attention he'd gotten as a child. Tony knew that his hope was unlikely and unfounded, and pushed it from his mind, instead focusing on doing what he could to help the still-motionless doctor.

"He's in bad shape, Tony."

The genius laughed softly.

"Well if that isn't the understatement of the century…" He grabbed a soft cloth and dipped it in a bowl of steaming water, and paused.

"Bruce. He's a frost giant. Somehow I doubt we should be using warm water. Thanos… Well if we know his heritage, then those who tortured him probably did too."

Bruce's expression was horrified.

"I'd forgotten. I'll go get tap water. That'll be fine, won't it?"

"I dunno. Probably. I'll get it. You focus on what to do next."

Tony grabbed the bowl and walked into the attached bathroom, tipping out the hot water and refilling it as fast as he could.

When he walked back into the room, Bruce had bandages lain out.

"I'd rather him be conscious for some of what we'll do," he said, without looking up. "He'll be disoriented, I'm sure."

"Oh; I was going to mention. He called Thor and I hallucinations when we came to get him. He passed out pretty soon after. Do you think that he actually believes that we were?"

Bruce paused for a second.

"Most likely. If he automatically thought you to be hallucinations when he saw you, it means he'd probably had similar visions in the past. He dreamt of being rescued. It shows how much he hoped for it that it was the people that he'd fought that were rescuing him."

Tony wet the cloth and gently wiped at Loki's face, slowly removing layers of grime and blood.

"We might need more cloths and bowls of water," he murmured, bringing the cloth away, filthy after on gentle swipe. "JARVIS, can you get Thor. If Loki wakes up, I think he should be here."

He glanced up at Bruce, who nodded his assent.

"Certainly, sir."

Tony kept wiping, face expressionless as Loki winced at each pressure in his sleep, none of the bruises new.

That was how it worked. They brought him to the height of pain, going at him until he was one big bruise, and then they left him, taunting him from the sidelines. Waiting until he was healing, but still in pain, before starting again. Waiting until he was just on the edge of hoping that they wouldn't come back. And then they'd repeat, and repeat and repeat. Until he knew that they were playing with him, and he was just a toy, but that didn't stop the hope from becoming more pronounced each time the cycle came through.

For even in the darkest of places, there is hope.

Steve, Clint and Natasha were silent when Thor had finished. The god had probably figured out what they were all doing here simply by the state of the previously destroyed kitchen. They had all noticed the way his voice had gone as tight as his grip on Mjolnir when he had said, "My brother's injuries are… bad."

It was Steve who spoke first.

"You two have been gone for four days."

Thor's eyes widened in shock, and he opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by JARVIS.

"Mr. Odinson; Mr. Stark would like you in the bedroom next to his. He would like you to be present when your brother wakens."

Wordlessly, and with only a nod to the three at the table, Thor walked off. If he noticed the others get up to follow him, he made no comment.

When they arrived in the room, Tony was still gently wiping Loki's face, hiding it, and Bruce was wiping down the god's torso, equally as gingerly.

And then Tony stood up to look at them, and Bruce took his cloth away, and they got their first glimpse of Loki since he'd left for Asgard.

His body was filthy and bloodstained, with the face and torso partially cleaned. His stomach was concaved, ribs sticking out in various places, showing how broken they were. Various places on his body showed his normal pale skin, while the rest was one hug multicolored bruise, blues and purples and greens and yellows all merging. Cuts were layered on bruises, none bleeding, but all bloodied. Even Natasha and Clint looked away when they saw the crisscross of cuts across his lips, where they were torn to shreds.

Steve's horrified and sickened gaze met Tony's, the billionaire's face blank, but everything that he wasn't showing running through his eyes. So the supersoldier nodded, and Tony nodded back and they understood each other. And everything was okay for a little while.

And then Tony turned his eyes to Clint, and they hardened. The bowman glanced over at Loki and his eyes tightened, while Natasha stood blank-faced.

"For a while I thought he deserved whatever came to him," Clint explained. "He took over my mind, and I'm still not ready to forgive that, but I'm not going to do anything to him."

The billionaire hesitated, before nodding sharply.

"Natasha?" He asked.

"I don't trust him, but I'll assume you know where we stand when it comes to torture."

Again, a nod.

Steve clapped Tony on the shoulder, pain in his eyes, before he turned and walked silently out of the room, Natasha and Clint following with one last blank glance at the broken god on the bed.

Thor was sitting in a chair, not too close to the bed so as to get in the way, but only just. The atmosphere was subdued, no one willing to speak.

Bruce had continued wiping just as the others left, and Tony had remained still for a little, before doing the same.

They worked in silence, soft and meticulous, not pressing too hard, but hard enough to get blood from the cuts. No disinfectant at this stage, just water.

And then Tony reached Loki's lips. They had been healing between the branches, so some of the skin had knitted back together. More gently than he had already been, he swiped at one of the cuts.

A soft gasp left the god's mouth, and, for a brief second, his eyes snapped open in a moment of shock and fear.

Brilliant green irises met Tony's soft brown ones as Loki's whole body tensed. Tony recoiled as if shocked, but Loki was already relaxed once more, his eyes softly shut, as if the episode hadn't occurred.

The cloth was clenched tightly in Tony's hand, cool, pink water dripping to the floor as the billionaire breathed hard.

"Anthony, are you okay?" Thor's voice was still soft, and Tony managed to unclench his neck muscles just enough to turn to look at him.

He didn't know why this had affected him so much, but his voice was still tight when he asked Thor what colour Loki's eyes were.

Thor frowned slightly at the question, but answered anyway.

"My brother's eyes have always been green, barring, I am told, when he is in his Jotun form. Why do you ask?"

Tony chewed his lip for a second before answering slowly.

"During his invasion, I remember clearly, that his eyes were blue."

Thor's eyes widened, shock temporarily crossing his features, before he did something that Tony didn't expect.

He grinned widely, and began to laugh.

It wasn't Thor's normal laugh. It was soft and relieved, and Tony and Bruce simply stared at him.

"Do you not understand?" He asked them, his face split in two with a grin so gleeful. Both scientists shook their heads, no.

"Tell me, what colour did Natasha say Clint's eyes were when they were fighting?"

And then Bruce and Tony both clicked, but there was still something bothering him.

"She said Clint's eyes were bright blue. But Loki's were pale. Do you know why?"

Thor thought it over for a little, but shook his head.

"I do not. We should ask him when he is well enough."

And then there was silence again, but for the soft wiping of cloths, and the splashes of water, and the creak of a chair when Thor got up to empty out the dirtied bowls and re-fill them.

Loki didn't open his eyes again.

Not through the simple cleaning of him. Not through the disinfectant. Not through the placement of bandages, not through the very slight wash of his hair. Not even through the gentle stitching up of his deepest wounds.

Thor wouldn't let them stitch him up too much, and he refused to let them stitch Loki's lips. They didn't ask. The look on his face told them they wouldn't want to.

Bruce had wanted to re-set Loki's ribs, but he didn't want to risk waking him. They decided they'd do it when he was lucid enough for them to tell him what was happening.

Hours had passed, and Steve had brought them some food, equally as silently, before leaving again.

Tony didn't know what the others were doing, and he found that he didn't really care, either.

And then they had done the basics, as much as they could.

They had dribbled some water through Loki's lips, but hadn't chanced feeding him. They didn't have an IV, and even if they did, they remembered the tales of how Thor had woken up in hospital.

So Bruce and Tony stepped back and packed up, and Bruce left, glancing back once more at the bed.

Thor moved his chair closer to the bed, and Tony placed his hand on his shoulder.

"He'll be okay, buddy. We've got him now."

The Thunderer nodded distractedly.

"Thank you, Tony," he murmured as Tony went to leave.

The corners of his lips turned up.

"Any time, big guy. And I don't mean that literally."

Thor didn't look away from Loki, but smiled slightly anyway.

"Call if you need anything, or if he wakes up,"

Thor nodded. Reluctantly, Tony went to leave the room, though he knew Loki was safe here with Thor.

As he went to close the door behind him, he glanced back in the dim light to see Thor gently place his hand over Loki's, a sad, protective look on his face.

And then the door was shut, and Tony was gone.

He was exhausted. Thor had called at some ungodly hour, and then they'd been gone for about a day and a half their time, but according to Thor, four days earth time.

So he went to bed, his eyes slipping shut as he slipped gently from wakefulness into a soft black land of sleep, spiraling deeper, slipping straight past dreams and into the velvet black comfort of silence.

Thank you so much for putting up with my slowness, guys. Thank you to everyone who's following this, who's following this, and to those who've reviewed. It's really nice to know what people think.

Again, thank you.

And especially, thank you so much to P.B, the other half of this account, for everything. Especially the plot bunny that got this all going.