Hi! I know, it's a really short (unbetaed) chapter, but it's been ages since the last update and I wanted to publish something, even if short. So sorry for my long silence, still having to face a hectic life. I don't know if there are still people interested in my story, given my irregular updates, but as a sort of good news I can say that next chapter should be up within the month, maybe even by next weekend. Anyway, thank you so much for your feedbacks. I re-read a lot of your comments during the last few days and they really helped me find the will to translate. So thank you for everything!
And now I just hope this short chapter won't be a total disappointment. Enjoy your reading

xxDustNight88: Thank you, I'm glad if my update managed to cheer you up a little! Now Loki and Tony only have to talk about their kind of relationship XD

Teska: Thank you so much for all your messages, I didn't expect the last one! Yes, finally Loki woke up, it was about time, wasn't it? XD That's just one step to the right direction, though, since he'll need a lot of healing for the time being. I'm sorry it took so long for the new update, I hope it won't disappoint.

NaruShika-Forever: Bruce and Pepper, don't forget Pepper XD It won't be fun for Tony, but he'll have to do that too, even if that will happen in the next chapter, sorry for the wait. Thank you for your comment!

Guest: Thank you, I'm really glad you enjoy my story!

Meerevel: I understand prefectly, I have to say I missed Loki too, but now that he's come back he shouldn't be away from the scene anymore, at least not in the near future. I'm glad you liked the way he and Tony feels towards each other. Thank you so much!

Chapter 20: Resurfacing

He had woken up.

And that he had been more insufferable than the usual and he had dismissed him in a couple of words without showing even a glimpse of gratitude didn't matter, because Tony hadn't expected anything different from him. The simple fact that Loki hadn't even tried to hide his wounds or yelled at him to disappear was already a positive reaction.

No, the god had truly reacted in a good way, all things considered.

Tony remembered way too vividly how it had been for him, how he had perceived the days soon after his return from Afghanistan. Minutes blending into hours and then days, leaving him with frantic anxiety, lungs full of water and the hole inside his chest that hurt at his every breath. When working on his suit had been the only palliative for what was corroding him from the inside, the part of himself that had lost and that he wasn't sure he would be able to patch it back together in his body; when the alcohol burning his throat seemed to be a lifesaver, the only thing that could turn off his mind when not even sleeping would have granted him some peace.

Judging from his conditions, Loki must have gone through something similar if not worse. When the god had started talking with a weak voice that seemed so wrong coming from him, Tony'd had several questions about Thanos on the tip of his tongues: confirmation of his suspicions, request for information and reassurances; but he had decided against asking him. He wouldn't force Loki to relieve his nightmares while he was still more similar to a corpse than to the regal, self-confident god that had laughed in the Avengers' faces.

"Jarv?" he called softly, after closing the bedroom door.

"Judging from his vital signs, Loki seems to be asleep."

Tony nodded, sighing in relief.

Careful not to make any noises, he stealthily walked through the hall towards the kitchen, not wanting to reveal his presence. Pepper and Bruce were waiting for him, but at the moment he would have rather faced the psychopathic god, together with his self-consciousness about showing his true appearance, than looking his friends in their eyes and admitting what had been tormenting him during the last few hours. Of course, he could always hide his thoughts behind his smile and his irony, and lie, but he wasn't sure he would be convincing enough, not in front of the two people he cared the most in the entire world – aside maybe from an alien god who had questionable character, but he wasn't ready to face such an uncomfortable thought, not yet.

And speaking of the alien god and his true appearance, Loki hadn't reacted in the same, upset way he'd had when they had been in his living room what seemed like ages before. He hadn't reacted at all. Tony froze midway while taking a step forward, realizing what that meant. He couldn't believe that all Loki's issues about his smurfish skin had been resolved after the torture he had endured by that alien fucker, not after Tony had seen him almost bleeding out to make the blue disappear from his body. So he had yet to realize how he looked now.

When Tony started walking again, he was frowning. It was better that way, because the last thing Loki needed was a tantrum that would put his healing at risk, but sooner or later he would notice. His frown was replace by a look of determination. When Loki noticed, he would be at his side, ready to explain him once and for all how wrong the way Thor's father and his people had raised him had been.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

A reassuring nothingness where the pain was a fleeting sensation enveloped him, granting him the truce that his exhausted body yearned for. There were no more threats, at least not close enough to be dangerous. He could feel soft bandages around his wrists in the place of the hard chains with those cursed runes that had kept him prisoner in a more unbearable way than his freezing cell, and even the coldness had disappeared. Now that he knew he was safe the will that had brought him to Midgard was wavering, allowing him to surrender to a deep slumber.

And yet...

The coldness had disappeared. A strange warmth had taken its place, even the contact with Stark's hand had felt like there had been a blazing fire beneath his mortal skin, like only that thin barrier prevented him to burn himself.

The air seemed the scorching hot wind that he had sometimes experienced in a desert, what little oxygen he managed to breathe with his damaged lungs was hot, still bearable and not really unpleasant, but nothing he was used to find in his mortal's tower or even in that area of Midgard.

His discomfort increased, unsettling him, drawing a web of cracks in the peace of his slumber.

That unnatural heat was wrong and now there were other details nagging away at his consciousness, trying to wake him up from his exhausted sleep. The memory of horrifying coldness spreading through his skin. His struggle to gather every tiniest glimpse of power to make a desperate attempt to teleport away. Stark, who had been wearing some thick clothes and hadn't seemed to notice how warm the bedroom was.

The cracks deepened, then the peaceful nothingness crumbled all around him and he emerged from his sleep with a strangled gasp, while the familiar pain in his chest engulfed him.

He opened his eyes, looking at his hand, where he could feel the Tesseract shard throbbing in power even now. And then he recognized the blue, not the blue of its magic, but the cursed color that unveiled his own origins. It had already contaminated his skin from the fingers to the shoulders to his chest, he felt it on his feet and his face, and it was part of all his body, part of him, like it had been that horrific day when he had discovered the truth and at the same time lost everything – his family, his home, his own identity.

He had become what he hated the most in the universe, the secret kept hidden by the All-Father's spell and his own powers had resurfaced, sharp and unmerciful like only the naked truth could be. He stared at his arms and his bandaged chest without being able to tear his eyes away. It was like he couldn't see anything else, like on his retina, in his mind and inside his burnt chest there was room only for such a hated color that had devoured the illusion covering the worse of the truths. And it had happened while he was in the house of his enemies.

Stark had seen him like that.

His eyes widened and a broken hiss escaped his lips, while his still healing lungs tried to reach for the air that such realization had stolen away. Then the pain, the dread, the hate, everything became too much and sheer horror engulfed his mind.