Tony has woken up, at various points in his life, in varying degrees of pain. What's different about this time is that it feels neither self-inflicted nor as a direct result of his own actions. This time, he feels it in his bones.

A soft sound of misery escapes him before he can think better of it, and although he barely shifts where he lies the keen lick of pain that races along each limb and muscle is enough to persuade him to remain still. It is at least mercifully dark. He gingerly cracks an eye open and squints into the middle distance, hoping to recognise something of his surroundings. He is disappointed.

Peeling paint flakes from the ceiling. Fading wallpaper, ripped and mouldy in places, evokes the late eighties. The surface he finds himself on might once have been called a mattress, although it now contains more springs than stuffing, smells strongly of damp, and rests directly on the ground.

Something small scurries between the shadows in one corner of the room, finding shelter in the pile of trash and crispy leaves collected against one wall. What little light there is pushes weakly through smeared and broken window panes framed with limp drapes.

And standing against that light is Loki, his angular form outlined enough to convey a dangerous mood. He has his back to the room and appears not to have noticed Tony's return to consciousness. The way he is standing suggests he has been keeping an intense and uncomfortable vigil for some time.

Marvellous.

Screwing up his eyes against the discomfort, Tony braces his forearm against his midsection and makes slow and painful progress upright. He's pretty sure he makes enough of a fuss about it to make it clear he wants to draw Loki's attention, but it's not forthcoming. He takes a moment instead to consider his situation and gather his scattered thoughts. And to slow his alarmingly shallow, panting breaths.

Much of what happened yesterday (or what he assumes could only have been a day ago) remains a blur. He has no idea how he got here, wherever here is.

He remembers running. He remembers the panic, the need to keep up, the worry for the others. He remembers taking a header more than once and being thrown around like a rag doll. He remembers pain.

The pitiful state of his body attests to that. He's pretty sure his left arm is broken, or at least fractured badly enough that using it in the near future is out of the question. The state of his ribcage strongly suggests significant damage. And the rest of him feels like a giant bruise. With some tender probing to his hairline he locates the reason for the river of dried blood clotted down his face. He's also damp, cold and covered in dirt.

More details come back to him once his thoughts finish rebooting. He remembers the manpower, the advanced weaponry, the way both Wanda and Loki were neutralised in the blink of an eye. He remembers some serious weirdness.

An operation like that could only mean one thing. Ross was behind this, and his lackeys knew what they were dealing with. They'd come prepared, and they'd had access to intel that could only have come from one place. It's clear the interference Rhodey ran to stop news of Loki's presence on Earth reaching the wrong ears wasn't quite thorough enough.

The thought makes him shudder. He flicks his eyes to the figure still at the window. Loki's bare, cuffless wrist is visible in the gleam of moonlight filtering through the window. He looks coiled tighter than a spring. And he's yet to say a word.

Tony clears his throat and inadvertently triggers a painful bout of coughing. He winces, and when he finally speaks he's not at all surprised at how scratchy his own voice sounds.

"Nice digs." He flicks his working hand in a desultory manner to indicate their shell of a motel room. "Decor's a little dated, but I guess I can live with it. Think we could get room service at this hour or should we call for take-out?"

Loki responds with the barest movement of his head, enough to cast a brief glance over his shoulder in Tony's general direction. Then he returns his attention to the window without so much as a sniff.

Uh huh, Tony thinks. So this is how it's going to be.

Tony begins to take an inventory. He pats down his pockets, cataloguing each contusion and scrape as he discovers it. He's lost his phone and his shades (figures) so calling for backup is out. He remembers with regret handing his gauntlets over at some point too.

He does find a single stick of gum which, with much one-handed fumbling, he manages to extract from the wrapper. It helps to take the taste of blood away, but it also makes him aware of just how dry his mouth is.

A closer inspection of the room does little to improve Tony's hopes of finding much of use. "Anything to drink around here?" he mutters half to himself, using the toe of his shoe to poke cautiously at a drift of detritus collected at the side of his makeshift bed.

He starts as something thuds onto the mattress next to him. A bottle of soda rolls to a stop against his thigh. When he looks up to check it's to find Loki as he was, his back to the room and apparently unconcerned for its other occupant. Tony sketches a lazy salute to the guy's back in thanks.

The stuff looks of dubious freshness, but at this point Tony isn't about to complain. Wedging the bottle between his side and upper arm doesn't quite give him the grip he needs, and he hisses when the force he tries to use to break the seal on the cap causes him to slip and jar himself.

He's blinking away tears of pain when the bottle is taken from him, opened, and handed back to him again. Tony catches Loki's eye as he reaches to take the proffered drink, and there's something in that steady assessment that makes Tony drop his gaze.

Embarrassment is an emotion Tony has only ever had a passing acquaintance with, but he recognises the feeling of heat that prickles at his neck. His treacherous body's response is also unusual enough that he suspects it's not just this immediate display of weakness that has him reddening beneath Loki's stare.

He nods gruffly and takes a swig of the stale liquid, managing to suppress too much of a wince. God knows where Loki found this. Some ancient vending machine in the parking lot, probably.

"Thanks, by the way."

Loki is still standing over him, although what he's waiting for it's difficult for Tony to guess. "For what?"

"Getting me out of dodge. I appreciate it. Really."

There's a pause that could simply mean Loki is trying to translate that phrase. Or it could be that Tony has surprised him. Always tricky to say which with this guy. The we both know you didn't have to goes unsaid between them.

"I killed some of them," Loki says without preamble. As though to be rid of it. As though to get it out of the way. When Tony doesn't immediately reply, he continues with, "I would do it again."

Now it's Tony's turn to be surprised, and he meets Loki's eyes again. Loki is waiting for his reaction. He is guarded. Unapologetic, but guarded nonetheless.

"I know," Tony offers, thankfully without a trace of hesitation. "You did what you had to." He hopes that will be enough, because he doesn't think he has it in him to go further just now. Not with the pounding in his head and the ache in his arm, with the anxiety gnawing at him for the others and the need to make a plan pressing on him through it all.

Loki says nothing to this, which for the moment Tony is going to take as acceptance. Whatever is going on here is going to have to wait, as are the conflicting emotions he's feeling just now. He doesn't have the time or the energy for this. He needs to focus on getting his shit together.

"Any idea where we are?" he asks as he takes another gulp of soda. The look Loki returns is enough of an answer. "Right, stupid question." At least Tony can take a ballpark guess, which is more than can be said of his Asgardian pal. "How far are we from the cabin?"

Loki stalks back to the window to resume his vigil. Tony suspects at least some of the reason is an excuse not to look at him. "I kept moving for several hours. I only stopped because you would have drawn attention."

"Come again?"

Loki gestures vaguely to the side of his own face, then flicks his fingers in Tony's direction. "You were making noise," he adds.

Oh. "Gee, you're all heart. But you could have just left me in the woods, so thanks I guess." Tony takes one more mouthful from the bottle and fumbles the cap back in place, pulling a face as he does. "Good god that's awful. Okay, so where does this leave us?"

The silence stretches, and Tony chooses to believe it's because Loki genuinely doesn't know what to do next, not because he's considering doing something stupid.

"We need to find a way to contact the others."

"They will be looking for us," Loki replies, and it's clear from his tone that he isn't referring to Rhodey, Vision or Wanda.

Okay. So something stupid it is.

Tony needs to nip this in the bud now, and gently isn't going to cut it. "I get that. But we can't stay here. The sooner we can get FRIDAY on the phone, the sooner we get a ticket home."

"Your home," Loki says with just a hint of heat.

Tony almost wants to say that nothing's changed, that they can go back to what they were doing before this whole mess started. But that's not exactly true, and while they're skirting around the issue, they both know it. Loki has the power now to walk away if he wants to. Loki is in control here. The tenuous truce they have is completely in Loki's hands right now, and Tony knows that if their roles were reversed, he'd be sorely tempted to run with that shift and see where it takes him.

The only advantage Tony still has is his knowledge. His sense of self. His place in the world. Loki has none of that - no back up, no safety net, no purpose. If he runs he has nowhere to go and no hope of finding his way back to himself. He's alone. Tony and Rhodey and Vision... whether he wants to acknowledge it or not, they're the only friends Loki has.

"Look," Tony says, "I know you don't like it. And I get that you're scared." Loki visibly bristles, and Tony forges ahead before he can interrupt. "I can't promise that those goons aren't on our tail and waiting to pick us up as soon as we poke our heads above the parapet, but we've got to try. And I'm going to level with you here - my pathetic mortal body is in need of some serious attention. You might be able to see this thing out for as long as you need to, but I am not going to be able to go the distance. And frankly, buddy, I'm the best chance you've got."

"You'll forgive me if my faith in your abilities is somewhat lacking."

"Do you even have any idea who those guys are? Or what they want with you?"

"I don't care."

"Well you should. If they are who I think they are, they've got the full force of some very powerful people behind them, and they won't stop until they have you tied up tight. Trust me when I say you don't want to go it alone."

The guy must have been ruminating on this for the last several hours, because it seems to touch a nerve. Loki turns sharply into the room and begins to pace, a restless energy barely contained in his stiff gait.

Tread lightly a voice cautions in the back of Tony's mind. Tony bats it to one side.

"Listen. I can see that you're not super impressed with me right now, and hell, it wasn't exactly my finest hour out there. But I'm willing to bet your other options are pretty thin on the ground, otherwise you wouldn't still be here."

Loki snorts at this and casts Tony a dark look. Tony smiles.

"Yeah, I know. You're badass and you don't need my help. Well guess what. You've got it anyway."

Loki stops and lets his eyes close, tilting his face to the ceiling. "I'm going to die," he mutters on a sigh.

Tony's smile stretches to a grin. Buoyed by his success, he decides to ride the wave and attempt to move while he's still feeling optimistic about his chances. Scooting himself carefully towards the edge of the mattress, he slides his legs around and leans to shift his weight forward. That small movement makes something shift sickeningly inside him and sends shards of sharp agony through his chest cavity.

"Ahh, fuckfuckfuck."

He acquiesces to his body's demand to stop and freezes, unable to lie back again but too close to passing out to try moving any further. It is several excruciating seconds before the memory of the grind of bone fades enough that he can register the cold sweat left in its wake.

"Maybe you should stop trying to move," a prim voice informs him.

Tony uses his remaining strength to raise the middle finger of his good hand and breathes carefully through the nausea.

He cries out again when he feels his upper half being braced, his whole body dragged and then his shoulders being propped into a semi-upright position. He grits his teeth and screws his eyes shut against the movement, every ounce of him screaming at Loki to stop helping yet unable to make a coherent sound. When it is over he feels weak, breathless and utterly wrung out.

"Thank you so much," he gasps when he has enough breath back, and Loki responds with an almost cheerful, "My pleasure."

It isn't a pleasant thought, or one that Tony particularly wants to dwell on given his current circumstances, but it appears he's pretty dependent on Loki too right now.

"I'm not doing so hot here," he eventually admits.

"You don't say."

"What I mean is, we should probably make a move sooner rather than later." That's right Tony, push that advantage. Don't give Loki a chance to change his mind.

The sarcastic tone Loki switches to is delivered like a purr. "Ready to go then, are you? Or do you need another demonstration?"

Tony chews his lip. "Fine. A short break. But then we make a move. Together."

"Hmm."

"I'll take that as a 'yes, Tony'."

Loki doesn't say take it as you like, but Tony infers it. Instead he returns to the window and falls as still and silent as before. Just watching him stand there puts Tony on edge. "Do you have to do that all night?" he complains.

A muscle jumps along Loki's jaw as he clenches it but he doesn't otherwise reply. Tony isn't afraid to get on anyone's last nerve, especially if it will get him what he wants, but something about Loki's quiet resignation to all this has him holding back. If anything Loki looks wetter and more bedraggled than Tony feels. The moonlight hitting his face makes him appear gaunt, and despite the nervous energy he looks tired. He seems almost… defeated.

"Look, Loki." With a grunt of effort that Tony is going to think of as manly rather than pained, Tony curls his legs to one side to make room on their shelter's only seating. "Come take a load off for a sec. You're no good to anyone if you run yourself ragged."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah? Well you don't look fine."

"Thank you."

"You want some of this?" Tony waggles the soda invitingly. "I've maybe not sold it all that well, but you gotta keep hydrated. And hey, sugar."

"No."

"You sure? Because I really think-"

The speed with which Loki pivots towards him is enough to snap Tony's mouth shut (and on reflection was probably the effect Loki was going for). With barely restrained force, Loki snatches the soda from Tony's hand, wrenches off the lid and knocks back a mouthful. The curl of his lip is eloquent in its disgust. He glares at the offensive stuff for a moment before thrusting it back towards Tony with a look that asks if he is happy now.

Like that's going to stop him. "You keep it," Tony says magnanimously. He ignores Loki's icy stare. "And seriously, when was the last time you took a break? You're stressing me out."

"Oh do end your ceaseless fussing, Stark. You're beginning to sound just like my moth-"

Loki cuts off so abruptly it would have been comical, were it not for the look of absolute mortification on his face. He shoots an arm out to catch his balance against the wall as though his legs are in danger of giving out, then braces against it to sink slowly to the mattress at Tony's side. All the while he gapes at Tony in complete silence, his skin paling noticeably.

"Um, Loki?" Tony ventures, an uneasiness squirming in his gut. He straightens himself slowly, caution and concern curdling together.

Loki's eyes do that thousand yard stare thing that rings alarm bells in Tony's mind, and as he leans closer he notices the guy's breathing begin to accelerate.

Oh boy. This he recognises.

He shifts himself to sit more squarely at Loki's side and places a hand oh so carefully at the back of Loki's neck. When this doesn't immediately result in said arm being ripped off, he exerts just enough pressure to push the guy's head down between his knees.

Loki doesn't seem to react to this in any way and continues to pant, eventually taking a couple of gulping breaths as though trying very hard not to be sick.

"You're okay," Tony tells him. "You're fine. Just take it easy."

What the hell? What the hell is this? Tony tamps his own rising panic down firmly and pushes the discomfort of the position he's in to the back of his mind. He continues to murmur meaningless platitudes for the sake of something to say, because that's just what you do, and tries very hard not to feel weird about it.

It is several minutes before Loki's breathing begins to even out, and several more before he says something to break the awkward silence.

"Stark."

"Yeah?"

"Please… take your hand… off me."

Tony snatches his hand back like he's been burnt and tucks it guiltily between his knees. He feels his stomach drop out from beneath him and the back of his neck flush cold. But he can't seem to move away. He's frozen to the spot.

Shit shit shit.

Is this it? Is this how it's going to end? He's alone, unarmed, completely defenceless, and Loki gets his memories back now? He's uncomfortably aware of how close he is to Loki, of how dangerous the guy is, of how laughably unprepared he is for this moment. And he's not exactly fighting fit, either.

Loki raises his head by degrees, but he doesn't turn. He looks dead ahead, and if anything his shoulders hunch a little closer to his ears.

It occurs to Tony in a wave of giddy relief that Loki is avoiding his eyes. This isn't murderous revelation. This isn't a calculated reveal or a sinister gotcha moment. This is embarrassment.

"My apologies," Loki says stiffly.

"Are you okay?" Tony asks cautiously. Starting simple. Starting safe.

Loki nods just slightly but doesn't otherwise offer anything by way of explanation.

He can't help himself. God help him, he just has to poke that anthill.

"So, uh… you're gonna make me say it?"

The look Loki gives him is blank.

"You know," Tony continues - and for the love of all that's holy why can't he stop - "kinda wondering where I stand here. You're not… having second thoughts about this whole deal, are ya?"

That at least gets a reaction. Although not an altogether helpful one. Loki frowns at him. Tony sighs.

"Okay. I'm just going to say it. Are you going to kill me now?"

Loki takes a second to reply, then does so slowly. Like he's talking to the elderly. Or a particularly deficient mortal child. "Not at this moment in time, no."

"Great. That's good. You just let me know if that changes. Keep me abreast of the situation. I'd appreciate a heads up." Yes, he can hear himself. "So, what was that?"

The scowl Loki aims at him tells him all he needs to know.

"Not keen to share. Right. But, is it all coming back, or…"

"No," Loki growls.

Well. That's good to know. Sort of. "Listen, I don't want to be a jerk about this, but-"

"Do you know," Loki interrupts silkily, "I think I am beginning to feel inclined towards violence."

Tony holds up his hand. "You're right. None of my business. You'll let me know. Got it. I'm just gonna…" He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, then does his best to lean back against the wall and out of Loki's personal space with as little hissing and teeth gritting as possible.

Loki uses the opportunity to get slowly back to his feet, appearing lost in thought. Keeping his back turned and his expression hidden, he allows Tony a brief handful of words.

"If I wanted you dead, you would be."

And isn't that… comforting. "Yeah. See, you say that now…"

He should leave this alone.

That seems to be all the comment Loki will make on the matter. Without so much as another sound, he moves to the door, pulls it open and vanishes into the night.

"Hey, where are you going?" Tony calls into the void left behind, but he doesn't receive an answer.