A/N: I was hoping I'd get this update out in the next 2 weeks at least, but then Takada Saiko asked me when the next update would be and I decided to hunker down and get this chapter out last night (and maybe stayed up later than I should have XD). So you guys can thank her! Or you can thank her by checking out her awesome fics. ;D

So sorry for the angst storm this chapter.

Chapter 10

It wasn't as if Loki knew he was there, but Steve couldn't bring himself to leave his cowering form. The trickster god remained huddled in the corner, wide eyes staring straight- not that he would look anywhere else.

Steve had sat down a few feet away from the other, although he wasn't sure why he was even bothering, there was no way he knew he was there.

"You know, Loki," started Steve, still feeling ridiculous but somehow it felt right to speak, "I'm sure your brother will be fine. He'll...he'll be back soon." What else was there to say? Why was he even saying anything at all? The captain shook his head at himself. Stupid.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Loki trying to- in what he assumed was discretely -feel about in front of him with a hand, as if he expected someone to be there. Was he looking for Thor, or Steve? Although the blonde doubted he even knew that it was him that had touched him.

Slowly, the trickster felt along the wall and stood up, keeping his back against the hard surface. Steve felt himself mirroring the movements as he slid up as well. What is he doing? Loki then felt his way around the room, keeping to the wall, breathing somewhat heavily but steadily. Steve followed behind him. What should he do?

When the mischief god reached the bed he felt its surface with both hands as he began to move around it. Then, several things happened that caught Steve by surprise. First, Loki's face went blank, then it looked as if he were thinking intently, then his brows furrowed as a pained expression spread across his features. His face then scrunched up in a fierce scowl. The next thing that happened made Steve jump back in surprise: Loki grabbed at the covers on the bed and ripped them off- quite literally, in fact, he heard the sheets tearing. The god then turned on the pillows and began ripping out their stuffing, feathers flying everywhere. In almost the same moment, his foot caught the end table next to him and he smashed a fist on its surface, splintering it to pieces. All the while the trickster growled angrily, breathing hard with a mask of pain and fury.

As Loki stumbled across the room- unheeding of anything that might trip him -he ran into the closet door.

Before he did anything else, Steve yelled, "Loki, stop!" What is wrong with me? He can't hear you!

But the dark-haired god had already put his foot through the wood of the closet door, his arm breaking through as well. Loki made a frustrated sound at it when his leg got caught in the wood, then haphazardly ripped it out in anger. He hadn't braced himself, however, and fell backward when he lost his balance; on instinct, Steve ran up behind him and caught the god before he hit the floor. Immediately, Loki yelped and jerked to his feet, scrambling away from the captain.

Suddenly, the door burst open, Clint and Natasha standing at the ready with weapons drawn. "What the hell is going on here!" shouted the archer.

Loki made desperate breathy noises in his throat as he crashed into the wall with his back, but he didn't seem finished with his...whatever it was he was doing. His foot caught on a medium-sized table near the window and he turned on it and sent a violent fist through the wood, breaking it in half.

"What the hel-" Clint started again as he was about to move forward, but he and Natasha both jumped out of the way when a chair flew passed them. Natasha rolled and landed gracefully inside the room, Clint had nowhere to go as he was near the wall so he flattened himself against it. "Cap, seriously-!"

"Don't go near him!" yelled Steve.

"What?!" yelled the archer back, eyes wide and confused. Natasha's eyes were watching the god intently but she looked less surprised.

Loki broke the other chair as he smashed it against the wall next to him- it was clear he had no idea where he was throwing the pieces of furniture, he didn't seem to have an aim.

Steve inched closer to the other two but stopped. "He might be blind, deaf and mute, Clint, but he still has his strength," he said quickly as Loki continued to assault pieces of furniture. "Just get out of here," his voice raised an octave, "he could kill you two!"

Neither agent needed to be told twice as they rushed out and closed the door behind.

The truth was, Steve didn't know why he didn't just leave as well. It wasn't like he was exactly a match for Loki, either, but just abandoning the panicking trickster just seemed...cruel, somehow. Even so, he wouldn't let his compassion outweigh his common sense; Loki had just broken what looked like a solid oak table with one hand and he didn't seem to be slowing down.

His next target seemed to be a mirror that was hanging on the wall next to the window. At first, Loki had touched it and moved on, then, pausing, he returned to it.

For a moment there was silence, nothing except the god's strained breathing through his nose and Cap's rapidly beating heart. Slightly bruised hands slowly felt along the surface of the mirror and Loki seemed to be calming down. The god tilted his head, looking at it as if he could see himself in the reflection.

Should I do something now? He wasn't sure if Loki would freak out again so he waited. But for how long? This...outburst didn't happen for no reason, and whatever the reason, Steve didn't think it was good. Bruce. He needed Bruce in here, he was a...sort of doctor. Or maybe Natasha might know how to soothe the trickster, she could read anybody.

Strange hitching sounds, of breaths catching in a throat, broke through Steve's thoughts. Was Loki...crying?

It was true, he could see it in the mirror the god was still touching with both hands, fingers tentatively resting on the surface. It occurred to him that Loki's eyes were healing- at least a little bit -if he was able to cry now-

Steve flinched fiercely when Loki suddenly crashed both fists against the mirror's glass. Then he did it again, and again, and again, and again- What should I do? Steve thought, nearly in a panic himself.

When the god continued to assault the glass, the pieces falling everywhere, and his hands bloodied, the soldier decided, enough is enough. As Loki began sobbing, Steve rushed forward and wrapped arms around him to grab at his wrists, pulling him backward. A strangled sob escaped as he hauled him back, Steve's movements jerky but determined.

"That's enough, Loki!" he yelled, even knowing the other couldn't hear. Loki didn't seem to be fighting back, though, he only went limp and allowed Steve to move him. But before the mirror had gotten five feet away, Loki suddenly screamed- a muffled, frustrated and pained noise -then lashed out at him just as Steve felt himself roughly pushed backward. He hit the wall behind with enough force to crack it. It hurt, but he felt a rush of relief that he had sent Clint and Natasha out; if either of them had tried that, they would probably be dead now.

Loki whimpered and slowly bent down, tears streaming down his face and short hiccups leaving him every few seconds. He curled up on the floor in the fetal position, hugging himself tightly. His hands were bleeding as well as his face, although Steve wasn't sure when that had happened.

What should I do... he asked himself again.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

It was the mirror, the mirror that had finally made Loki break down completely- break just like the furniture he knew he had broken to pieces.

The bed had started it. He had been sitting there against the wall, thinking, and he suddenly hated the feeling, the feeling of not knowing. His hands felt around the room that was now familiar, yet somehow, without Thor there, it felt hollow and foreign, not home. The bed reminded him too much of his brother, and when his hands touched it he half expected to feel a leg, or an arm, something that told him it hadn't all been a delusion, or a dream, something that said: 'Thor was here all along, foolish trickster.' But it wasn't true and he had to make his terrible thoughts go away, the thoughts that whispered: Thor isn't here. You've been abandoned, again. No one is coming for you... Why would they? You're all alone now- were always alone.

The bed's covers were on the floor, he had felt something ripping. Some sort of small table was next. Why are you fighting? It's all useless, isn't it? He won't come back. Something soft and feathery flew around him.

There was a door in front of him, its wood felt good breaking beneath his limbs, but it defiantly got caught on his leg and Loki felt himself falling back. No! his mind had screamed when he felt hands on him, catching him- they weren't Thor's and he didn't want them.

He abruptly forgot there was someone else there the next moment, a table becoming his next victim. The chairs he threw away, although one hit something nearby- he felt the pieces hit him.

He didn't care.

None of it matters- Thor won't come back, he won't come back! Or maybe... Loki felt along the wall. Or maybe he was never here. A smooth surface passed beneath his fingers and he almost overlooked it. He thought it might be a window until he felt its edges, but the shape was long, it couldn't be a window. All the windows in Thor's room were large enough to span the walls.

A mirror. He knew it was a mirror.

What would he see there if he could see? What color were his eyes now, were they still green? What color had the stitches been? He couldn't remember...

Thor's eyes were blue. Always so blue, like the midday sky on a summer's day, or the clearest crystal ocean before the sun slept at its edge. But what did those blue eyes see when they looked at the mischief god? Did Thor see a brother? A traitor? His burden? A mistake? A cripple? A Jotun runt-

His fists impacted the glass and he barely felt it. He hated that he didn't feel it because he wanted it to hurt- wanted it to match what he felt inside.

He's abandoned me! He's gone! I'm worthless, useless, pathetic! He hates me!

Two hands around his wrists were dragging him backward now, Loki didn't have the strength to struggle.

He felt wetness running down his face and he wondered if he had cut himself.

He hates me... he hates me...

Loki didn't remember how or when he ended up on the floor. The wetness kept falling down his face and his breath was short. He felt arms around him for a moment, then realized they were his own, shaking and weak.

He hates me...

.

"W-what are you doing?" Loki stuttered as he was being restrained to a chair he had never seen before. The hooded man behind held his head firmly with both hands.

The man in front turned around, revealing a long needle and thread.

Loki's eyes went wide. "No..." He began to struggle.

Why, why? Hadn't he been good? Hadn't he done what he was told? Answered when he was asked, moved when he was guided, ate, drank, and slept when he was permitted? Why?

"No, please!" he screamed, desperate. "Why are you doing this, please!" He squirmed in the chair.

He still remembered it. The last time. His nightmares still painted blood falling down his face, the dwarves' needle could still be felt on his lips- a phantom sting of pain that never really left.

But not again!

The man was so close now, his hooded mask revealing no emotion; no hurry but no compassion, either. And what should he expect? His torturers didn't know the meaning of the word. Agony was their craft and they weaved it well. They had put terrible strings into the god of mischief and when they pulled his every part moved where they pleased. Wasn't that enough? Now they would put strings into his mouth to silence him. What was it all for?

He wailed when he felt the first stab on his lower lip. It didn't hurt so much, not yet but for the memory that still lingered like a weight waiting to drag him to the depths.

Loki struggled more fiercely, a sudden fire burning within, a boiling anger. There was no point to this! For so long he had thought their purpose was simply to punish him, to torture him, but that thought was quickly erased given their odd methods. Questions that made little sense. The way they made him repeat certain actions, say certain words, or not say certain words. They said 'stand here' and 'eat there', the way they beat him if he slept in the wrong position or if he stepped too far one way or the other. He didn't understand why any of it was important- how could it be?

The man behind tightened his grip on the trickster's head when Loki tried to pull away. He screamed when the needle pricked his skin again, then again, not stopping even when Loki sobbed and begged them to stop.

But what was the use? Had they grown tired of him, was this his final punishment? Had Loki failed somehow, why the sudden change?

His screams were muffled now and the searing pain made him sick. No, do not vomit. Do not. He had done it before, all those years ago and he had thought he would drown in it. But not this time, no.

Loki breathed deeply; in through his nose and out, in and out, in and out, he concentrated on it with everything he had and gripped the chair until his knuckles were white.

His torturers didn't wait for the young god to settle; they ripped him out of the chair and forced him, stumbling all the way, out a door Loki had never used before. He barely registered that he was walking on unfamiliar ground. Abruptly, a dark cloth was pulled over his head.

He didn't know how long he was dragged along, but he could barely keep his feet. And when they demanded he walk more properly he immediately straightened up and tried his best- he couldn't help but obey.

"Here," one of them said gruffly, the rough grip on his arms stopping him.

The black cloth remained over his head as they manhandled him onto his knees, then flat on his back. The ground was hard, rocky, and Loki knew it was a natural formation, whatever it was, not the floor of a constructed room. Using his other sense, he also noticed it was colder in here, not just his back against the rock, but the air as well.

His wrists were pulled out, taut against metal chains that held firm and left no room to move. Next, his ankles were bound, leaving him even more immobile.

Loki wanted to ask what was happening but at the last moment realized his mouth was stitched shut and managed to avoid pulling on the strings. His relief at avoiding the pain was short-lived when he felt a thick metal collar being fastened around his neck, which was also attached to a chain that rattled when it moved.

He made a noise of protest when it clicked shut and wondered again what this new torture could be. The change in routine unnerved him. He had almost become accustomed to their "sessions" even if they hurt and confused him more and more every day.

Then, when all was quiet for a time, Loki realized the men had gone. But where had they gone? Was this the way they expected him to sleep?

When he felt a warm breath of air and heard a shift of clothing next to his head, he jumped. So there was somebody still in here with him. The breath got closer and he felt the warmth of the body next to him lean down.

"I am sorry, prince," said the clearly not sorry voice. "Enjoy the rest of eternity in your new cell." The cloth was ripped from Loki's head and he blinked in anticipation of light- but it was pointless, there were no lights.

The man was gone and Loki was suddenly alone.

It was black as pitch and he lay quietly, uncertain what to do. What had he meant? The man's words turned over in his head until-

A long hiss suddenly reached his ears from somewhere above his head. Loki strained against his bonds, panic growing.

What- what is this?

There were eyes in the dark, watching.

A/N: Not sure what's up with all the angst this chapter, buuut anyway. Maybe we'll see more of Tony and Thor next chapter, but who knows! (I certainly don't, my brain doesn't like to share.) As I said, I was up late writing this so if you see any mistakes feel free to tell me.

Also, I wasn't sure if you guys realized this, but Loki still has his natural strength (somewhat lessened with malnutrition)- he actually technically has all his abilities, still, but his lack of sensory input makes him vulnerable (not to mention his state of mind).

A/N 2: I'll probably be uploading a new fic of mine today. It's a multi-chapter one and it'll probably go longer than this one will. Check it out if you like but it's a bit more 'M' than this one is in some ways, I've put detailed warnings in the A/N.