Chapter Nine
Survival of the Fittest
Andromeda Orbit
Tony avoided the areas where he knew bodies lay. It was probably cowardly, not wanting to be faced with what just happened, but he didn't care. It was unavoidable when he had to walk into the small kitchen, but he quickly grabbed a few things that looked edible and a bottle that smelled and looked like water without glancing at the pool of blood on the floor and the body that was behind the counter. He drank the water first while he searched for a place to clean up and sleep. He found a room. It had two beds in it, a table and a bunch of cabinets. When he looked around more properly he found a bathroom as well. A shower seemed to be not a purely human-invention, even if the showerhead and the stall looked kind of different, and so did the knobs. He also found a mirror and it was hard to recognize his reflection. His hair was long, longer than it had been in years and his beard was too. It was not his stylish goatee either, but a full-on beard. He would have to find a razor or a blade or something later, but he didn't care for now. His face was pale and sunken, a lot thinner and sharper than he remembered it to be. His eyes had deep dark circles under them and stared back at him with a dull brown colour. He was too tired, too worn, almost lifeless, and way too dirty.
He ate first though, not much, just a little so that he wouldn't starve. He's been eating very little for a very long time so it would be stupid to get sick with too much food. He chewed methodically whatever it was that he was eating, he couldn't taste anything. Then he took off his clothes for the first time in months. He was so fucking dirty, everywhere, it was disgusting. He figured out how to start the water and found some soap, again, it seemed to be a universal invention. The water was not hot at all, but it did wonders to his frozen limbs. Washing away the grime from his skin, out of his hair and beard felt really good. He remembered the first time he took a shower after he escaped in Afghanistan. It was in a US military camp and it was a surreal feeling, for the water to be good and not something used to hurt him, to look at his scars and new wounds closely for the first time. It was surreal now too, but mainly for different reasons. It was warmth he didn't feel for so long and slowly the stink of dirt and blood was replaced by the clean smell of the soap and water. Looking at scars was the same though, even if he did not acquire too many of them. Most will heal and fade away completely. This one felt like the best shower he had in his life.
They were out, they did it, and they were heading home. They only had to murder a dozen complete strangers for it… fuck.
He leaned his forehead to the metal wall of the shower cubicle and let the warm water fall on the back of his head and neck. It soothed his muscles as it streamed down his back and he took deep large breaths. It neither eased the tightness in his chest, nor the chaos in his mind. He did this, he agreed to this, to escape.
Fuck, he couldn't justify it, he shouldn't justify it. He would have to look at himself in the mirror and live with it. He knew that he should've objected more, he knew that he should've said no, but not like it mattered. The dead didn't care. Fucking Loki and his fucking little speeches. The dead didn't care. Those bodies scattered around the ship didn't care that he felt bad now, they were dead anyway. Loki was right, even if he had some good reasons for it, they wouldn't care. It would only just make him feel less guilty. If he could figure out, that these were really some heartless murderers who made life hell for others, suddenly it would be okay then? No, he killed and let them be killed without knowing anything, even if it turned out that they were some sort of monsters, it wouldn't change the choice he made. He would just feed himself platitudes to feel better.
Because what was the truth? That he was terrified, terrified to go back, to be captured again, to be at the mercy of others again. Loki said it right. He was not willing to take the risk. Not willing at all. It was this or risking that, he had no other… no, the dead didn't care. And a voice in his head, a really annoying voice that kind of reminded him of Steve Rogers told him that a better man would rather have died than kill for such selfish reasons, that a better man would not have made this decision. But he was not that better man so he had not other choice. He's been told that he was not one to make sacrifices, he proved those words wrong back then, and now he proved them wrong again, only in the worst possible way this time. He made a sacrifice alright, only he did not sacrifice himself. He wanted to live and wanted to get away. It was a choice and he would have to live with it. He would have to remember what it cost to get away from that place, what price he was willing to pay. What he was willing to do to survive.
He wouldn't have thought himself capable of this. But he was a changed man when he escaped that cave, seeing his weapons, suffering in that cave, the shrapnel in his heart, the arc reactor, and Yinsen's empty dead eyes turned him into someone different. It was foolish to think that he would be the same after escaping now, that it would not change him. This time he had Loki's sharp green eyes, smooth dark voice and harsh truths to accompany him and not Yinsen's wise patient words and gentle guidance. The cave made him better, made him want to do better, made him take a hard look at his life and the damage he was doing and gave him a new purpose. What did this do to him? What did this turn him into?
He hit the wall with his fist, hard, it hurt, but his whole body hurt, so it made no difference. So he hit it again and again until he could feel the sting of a new wound and blood trickled down his knuckles. He took large heaving breaths, but after a few moments all energy drained out of his body and he slid down to the bottom of the shower stall. He only noticed after a while that he was crying, that large, broken sobs escaped his mouth. The past months, the prison, the pain, the hunger, the fear, the last days spent in the cold just walking forward in the dark, and finally the past hours just crashed down on him. Loki was not here now to see him. He would not look down at him with disgust, scoffing at his weakness. He didn't have to hold back right now and the warm water washed away the tears anyway. It hurt, so many things hurt, but at the same time something heavy lifted from his chest.
The dead didn't care, but he just wanted to go home.
x-x-x
In the end he pulled himself together and got out of the bathroom. He felt numb. Like all emotions he kept bottled up in the past months finally just poured out of him, leaving him empty. He wanted to force down some more food, but he was rather sure he would just throw it up, so he went to search for some clean clothes. He opened the cabinets one after another, first he found tools, some seemed simple enough, like screwdrivers with different heads, wrenches in unfamiliar shapes, but most were things he's never seen before. He was too tired for his curiosity to flare up, so he closed the doors again and kept searching. He found weapons too, small guns mainly. Then he finally stumbled upon some clothes. They were too big for him, but they were clean and would have to do for now. He planned to sleep anyway. He grabbed some trousers and tied them at his waist with a belt so that it wouldn't fall off and pulled a large undershirt over his head. He surely looked ridiculous, but he didn't care.
He simply walked to the bed and dropped himself down on it. He was sleeping on a floor for how knows how long, so the bed was again quite surreal to have. He left the lights on, because he was sick and tired of the darkness. He was too tired to think about it and fell asleep within moments, exhaustion finally kicking in.
He didn't know how long he slept, but he was still tired when he woke up. Not surprisingly. He may have been exhausted, but his sleep was still unruly. Lying on a bed was unfamiliar, the environment was unfamiliar and probably deep down he was still cautious, that they were not far away yet, that suddenly The Other and his men will attack them and drag them back. So no, he didn't sleep much. He couldn't. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and recall where he was exactly. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He wanted to get up and drink some more water and try to eat again maybe. He looked around in the room and almost got a heart attack.
'Holy fucking hell, what are you doing here?' he snapped. Loki was sitting on the floor between the two beds. He also cleaned up by now, he was wearing some trousers, but he was barefoot and shirtless. His back was to the wall, his hands resting on his bent knees. It was a position Tony knew very well by now, Loki always seemed to sit like this.
'And why the hell are you shirtless?' he asked again.
'It would be rather difficult to put anything on while I have these,' he said and raised his shackled hands. Right. 'I had to tear off my previous clothes just to get them off.'
'Okay. What are you doing here?'
'It would be… uhm… not advisable to stay too far from one another… in case someone catches up with us. Or we get attacked.'
'Right,' Tony frowned. Loki was not looking at him, but stared ahead seemingly at nothing. Tony stared at him for a while then recognized the look in his eyes, a haunted guarded look which he saw in the mirror many-many times. It almost always meant one thing; nightmares.
'Trouble sleeping?' he asked.
'It's better if someone's always on guard in case…'
'No listen, I get it.'
'Get what?' the clipped tone in Loki's voice also indicated explosive anger just below the surface. It was good to finally be able to catch these subtle hints in his voice. He was better at guessing whether Loki would just curse, hiss or actually try and strangle him.
'It's the bed,' he said after a long pause. Loki frowned and finally looked at him. 'It's too soft,' Tony continued. 'We've been sleeping on that fucking awful floor for so long that we're used to it. Stupid bed just feels weird, makes it hard to sleep. Same with me.'
Loki looked at him for another moment.
'Yes,' he said quietly and then turned his gaze away. He moved a bit, settling in next to the wall a bit more, his shackles clinking. 'It's the bed.'
'Yeah,' Tony agreed. 'Stupid bed.' He kept looking at the god as he sat there on the floor. His mind was shaking off the final traces of sleep and started working with regular speed again.
Well then. He got up from the bed and walked across the room to one of the cabinets. He opened the doors and started searching. He grabbed a few things then and walked back to Loki, sitting down to the floor next to him.
'Give me your hands,' he said. Loki turned to him again, still frowning. Tony showed him the few tools he grabbed from the cabinet. Realization dawned on Loki's face and held up his hands for Tony to take a look at the shackles.
'You suddenly trust me?' he asked and Tony snorted.
'I trust you as far as I can throw you,' he said. He kept his gaze on the shackles examining it from all directions to figure out how the lock mechanism worked on it. A meaningful silence was the only answer he got, so Tony kept talking. 'Here's the thing, Reindeer Games. All that we talked about? Taking a longer, alternate route back home, having to make several stops, needing to figure out the ship, it means one thing; that we're gonna be stuck with one another for quite a bit longer.' He finally found where the shackles should be opening so he had somewhere to start taking it apart.
'I know you already said that you need me alive, but you kind of need me more than just alive.'
'That so?' the god asked.
'Yeah, correct me if I'm wrong, but I couldn't help but notice that you have absolutely no idea how to drive this ship,' he looked up at Loki. 'Right?' Loki just narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything.
'Thought so,' Tony remarked and went back to work. 'So you need me for more than just to be your meat shield. Because yeah, I get it, they want me alive, but you not so much. It was obvious from the start why you wanted me with you even after I helped you take out the guards and get out of the prison. That's why I didn't want to take off this little accessory of yours.'
'So what changed?'
'What changed is that you need me with the ship.'
'I could figure it out on my own.'
'Sure,' Tony shrugged, then looked up at the god again. 'But are you willing to risk it?'
The way Loki's eyes narrowed again, he didn't miss that Tony was tossing back his own words at him.
'So,' Tony continued. 'We're going to be stuck with each other for a long time and while knowing that you won't kill me is nice and all, we're gonna have to do a little bit more cooperation if we ever want to get back to Earth. You're following me so far?'
'Yes.'
'Good. Now don't get me wrong, I still kinda hate your guts… a lot. That whole world domination stunt was not something I liked. You killing Coulson, that I especially despised,' at this he twisted on the shackles which made Loki hiss. 'My bad, this is a tricky lock… and also, using my tower to open your little portal… that was downright insulting on a personal level.'
'Your point is?' Loki asked.
'My point is that I don't like you and you obviously don't like me either, but we need to work together. Efficiently, not grudgingly, not "sleeping with one-eye open are you gonna stab me in the back" kind of teamwork is what I'm talking about.'
'A truce?' Loki asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.
'I'd prefer to call it a business arrangement. You need me, but considering I know nothing about this part of the universe and I don't even speak any language here, I need you as well.'
He took a breath before he continued. 'And for that to work, we're gonna have to trust each other… at least to a certain extent, at least until we reach our destination.'
'So this is you showing trust?' Loki asked.
'No, this is me giving you the benefit of the doubt. This is me believing that you realize that I am right and what I'm saying makes sense. And this is me making the first step,' he said and then finally the lock clicked open. 'Because you obviously won't be the one to make it,' he finished. He took the shackle off Loki's wrist. The pale skin was bruised and bloody under it. Tony didn't wait for Loki to say anything just took his other hand and started getting open the second lock.
It didn't take that long, because now he knew how the mechanism worked. They both stayed silent while Tony worked. When he was finally able to remove the chains he looked up at the god again.
'Well… that was underwhelming. I at least expected some fireworks.' He said, finally dropping the tools down on his bed.
'I am exhausted. Magic is very energy-consuming. I need to get my strength back before I can cast any spells.'
'Okay, good to know, malnourished gods can't throw fireballs.'
'I can't throw fireballs anyway,' Loki remarked. 'It is not the sort of elemental magic I am familiar with.'
'That's even better to know,' Tony replied.
They sat in silence for a bit.
'Do you think you could sleep?' Tony asked.
'No.'
'Me neither,' he answered.
'Stark.'
'Yes?'
'I will not go back,' Loki said. 'I cannot, I will not. So if they somehow find us, I will not let them take me. Not again. Not ever again.' Tony kept looking at the god, who was once again staring ahead looking at nothing. 'So if they find us, I will do anything, anything at all to get away from them. I will not care what it takes, I will not go back.'
Tony took a moment to think it through what that actually meant and see that Loki was just as desperate to be far away from their prison and their captors as he himself was. They won't go back, no matter what. That much was clear.
'We won't,' Tony told him and he really meant it.
x-x-x
