Author note: Chapter kindly beta'd by MandalorianPirate. All remaining mistakes are my own!

o0o

Rhodey tugs one last time at War Machine's harness and satisfies himself that it's anchored securely to the bulkhead. He gives the breast plate a solicitous pat. That rocket had been a little close for comfort, and there's some loosened plating that's going to need attention in the left flank, but it's nothing some tinkering can't fix.

He stretches his back out carefully, mindful of the twinges he still gets sometimes if he overbalances or twists wrong, and works the stiffness out of his hips with some careful pacing. He's pretty much mastered the transition from suit to braces now, but there's always a moment of regret when he has to give up War Machine's intuitive embrace. Sometimes, he can almost forget. Like when his movement's aided by pistons and power. Or when he's flying, or standing, or walking. Almost.

Tony's still bitching at the front of the jet as Vision attempts to help him from the suit. The release mechanisms are well and truly cooked, as are most of the rest of his systems, and he's about as pissed about it as Rhodey's ever seen him.

"Hey, go easy with that!" Tony chides as Vision wrenches a gauntlet away. "That's still good for parts, and I'm kind of attached to what's underneath. Figuratively and literally."

Tony rubs fretfully at the parts of him Vision has so far managed to liberate and casts Rhodey an unhappy look. He's beat up, and he's down a suit, and he doesn't like how close that brought him to vulnerability. Rhodey can't say that he likes it much either. He likes it even less when he imagines the same happening to his own suit, given the way things are now.

From what Tony's told him, it took a split second for that amount of damage to be done. Which means they have a serious problem on their hands. One he's hoping to hell they're equipped to deal with.

Rhodey crouches down stiffly across from their guest. He's trussed up in a harness of his own with his hands cuffed together in front of him. He's not said a word since they brought him onto the jet, and he's been kinda out of it for most of the journey. Whatever it is they used on him, it's strong; but there are signs he's already shaking it off. He'd pulled his hand away when Rhodey had tried to assess the damage, and he's been shifting in his seat a little like someone trying to wake from a nightmare. Rhodey guesses that analogy isn't too far from the truth.

A final piece is peeled from Tony's body and he stands with a groan. "Finally," he complains, shaking a cramp from one arm. "I thought I was gonna have to shower with that thing still on."

He walks over to a tool kit set into the bulkhead and rummages around in it.

"How's the patient?" he asks glibly as he saunters over, flipping whatever he's found into the air and pocketing it.

Rhodey has learned to be wary of that tone. He leans back a little to give Tony room to approach, but he doesn't entirely move out of the way. He's marking a line in the sand here, and they both know it.

Tony claps a hand down on Loki's shoulder and snaps his fingers in front of the guy's face. "Listen up, buttercup. You and I need to have a little talk."

Loki tips his head back to rest against the bulkhead and regards Tony wearily. He's looking a little green around the gills, not to mention spacey as hell, but he holds Tony's gaze steadily. Rhodey imagines god-strength dope comes with the kicker of all hangovers.

Tony digs in his pocket and pulls out what looks like a flat metallic bracelet. He holds it up in front of Loki's face and spins it slowly. "You see this?" He grasps Loki's cuffs and pulls until he has access to his arm. He snaps the bracelet over the guy's right wrist, and Loki winces slightly as it closes.

"That," Tony continues, "is insurance. Call it your shiny new conscience. You pull a stunt like any of the stunts you pulled today, you look at us wrong, you so much as twitch suspiciously, and FRIDAY will have that thing activated before you can spit. And that is some weapons-grade stuff in there, let me tell you. I'm talking 24 hours of down time, drooling into the carpet, liquefied brain cells, the whole deal. Are you getting this?"

Loki blinks lethargically, and Tony raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure he's really in a condition to understand you, Tony," Rhodey tries, but Tony just smiles humourlessly.

"He understands just fine, don't you, Reindeer Games?"

Rhodey thinks maybe Loki's warming up to more of a sullen glare now, and Tony seems to think so too. He breaks into a hard grin, claps Loki's shoulder a couple more times, then moves off back towards the cockpit.

Loki's eyes follow him as he goes, then return to meet Rhodey's own. Rhodey isn't sure quite what he reads in that gaze, but he doesn't like it. He purses his lips and stands, creakily. He's going to have to draw more than just a line in this sandbox.

For someone who's not had that long to get the hang of all things human, Vision has picked up the meaning of non-verbal cues surprisingly quickly. He is fast to contrive a reason to move away to the back of the jet when Rhodey gives him a subtle sideways nod, leaving Rhodey alone with his teammate. Tony works hard to ignore him, punching buttons on the console with slightly more force than is warranted.

"What the hell was that?" Rhodey asks him in a low voice, and watches Tony's jaw clench.

"Necessary," Tony returns without looking up.

"He's barely conscious. And I thought we'd talked about this? What happened to 'Vision can handle it'?"

"Never hurts to have something in reserve. I give it ten minutes."

"For what?"

"An excuse to test that baby out. Give him a taste of his own medicine." Tony smirks, but the levity is forced.

"Not cool, Tony. Not cool."

Tony's veneer of unconcern vanishes instantly. "Oh look, you didn't really think I was going to let us come into this without backup, did you?" he returns hotly. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't mess with Vision. He's a powerful guy. And between the three of us? We've probably got most threats covered. But my faith in all of us only goes so far when we're dealing with shit that can do that—" he waves a hand at the pile of suit pieces on the floor, "without so much as a magic word."

It's not that Rhodey hasn't expected something like this. Tony has said as much to him and Vision both, and the security measures they've put in place back at the compound are heavy duty and entirely reasonable. But for some reason this doesn't sit well with him, and he suspects it's partly because it doesn't seem to sit comfortably with Tony, either.

"I get it," Rhodey says. "I do. He's strong. He's mean. You don't like him. But that doesn't give us free rein to decide what's right. You're talking about serious harm here, Tony. I think anyone would call that thing cruel and unusual punishment."

"He's dangerous," Tony growls back. "Don't let the act fool you. He's been doing this longer than Christmas and he's looking for a way to screw us. If it takes a nuke strapped between his eyes to keep us all safe, you'd better believe I'll be the first one drawing up the blueprints."

It's not that he wants to, but Rhodey has to push this. He has to. For all of their sakes. "So, what? We're just going to keep him living in fear and hope that does the trick? He doesn't have rights?"

Tony turns fully to face him, and the moment of silence is icy. "I'm going to say this one time. You. Weren't. There." Rhodey tries really hard not to read an accusation into that, but Tony's not making it all that easy.

"I just think provoking the guy is a fast way to nothing good. You've got to give him a chance to fall in with us, otherwise he's not going to."

"He's not staying. As soon as I can get Thor on the cosmic telephone, he's outta here. In the meantime he needs to know who has the power. And anyway, it's not like he doesn't have a choice. He behaves, he stays fine. He doesn't, FRIDAY zaps him. Easy."

"I'm not sure he'll consider that much of a choice, Tony."

Tony snorts. "My heart bleeds. Tell it to Barton, or to any of the other puppet men he had doing his dirty work for him."

Rhodey looks over his shoulder at where Loki sits, examining the wrist wavering woozily in front of him.

"Don't pick at that," Tony calls over to him cheerfully. "You'll only make it worse."

"Can you just promise me one thing?" Rhodey asks Tony, calling his attention back. Tony gives him a look that says he's considering being contrary and saying no off the bat, but since he's a friend – pretty much his only friend – he will hear him out anyway. "Promise me you won't let him get to you. That you won't let this change you. You're calling the shots here, but don't lose sight of why we're doing this. I really don't want to have to play that tape again."

Tony's expression is unreadable for a moment, and Rhodey half suspects he's going to smile this off like he always does. Instead he drops his eyes and nods gruffly, turning back to check readings that have never needed adjusting in all the times Rhodey's flown on this boat.

Rhodey's not the sort of man to revel in his victories – he's not Tony – and he's not going to push his luck with this. Satisfied for now, he drops heavily into one of the pilot seats and props his feet up on the console in front of him.

They're still a couple of hours out. He just hopes it's enough time for Tony to cool off.

o0o

When the jet touches down it's mid-afternoon and the light beats mercilessly against Rhodey's tired eyes. The closing hangar doors soon plunge them into a comforting and cool dim. He always gets a headache when he flies. In all his long career, that has never changed.

He longs for his bed. He'd settle for a shower. He knows neither of those two things are on the horizon any time soon.

Loki still looks pale, and there are circles under his eyes like fading bruises, but he's perked up considerably in the time it's taken to finish the flight. It's possible the water had something to do with that, and Rhodey's only sorry it took him as long as it did to figure that out. He hadn't quite been prepared for the urgency with which the bottle had been snatched from his hands, and even Tony's indignant protest had died on his lips as they'd witnessed the almost obscene relief with which Loki had proceeded to down it.

Loki had spent the remainder of the journey watching them all in wary silence, jealously guarding the second bottle Rhodey had given him as though he expected it to be taken away again. The hunted look he'd flashed at the suggestion had also been enough to convince Rhodey to leave any further medical intervention until they touched down.

The jet powers down as the hatch opens. Rhodey watches Loki peer out as much as he can from his seat and thinks he looks nervous. He has to admit that this is not matching the picture he'd built in his head, but he'll reserve judgement for now.

"Vision, you're up," Tony says as he exits the jet without so much as a backward glance. Rhodey knows exactly where he's going, but he's not going to mention it. He lets him go without comment.

The deliberate care Vision takes as he unbuckles Loki's harness puts Rhodey in mind of a handler reassuring a skittish horse. Loki stares at Vision as his deft hands move, tense but acquiescent, and Vision gives him a gentle smile. "We mean you no harm," Vision assures him, then stands and offers a hand. "Allow me to help you."

Rhodey is prepared to intervene if he needs to, but the drama he's half expecting (thanks in no small part to Tony's paranoia) doesn't materialise. Loki studies Vision's offered hand for a moment and draws his brows together just slightly. If this is an act, Rhodey thinks, it's a very good one.

Vision takes this as permission and, slowly, reaches to brace beneath Loki's arm. He helps him to stand and gestures to the back of the jet. "Come."

Rhodey follows them both a few paces distant and marvels at the way Vision is able to make it seem like he's simply escorting a guest rather than herding a prisoner. Loki needs only token support as they make their way across the cavernous expanse of the hangar and towards the interior of the base. He takes in his surroundings with a naked interest that borders on awe, and Rhodey notes that the slight limp he's been trying hard to disguise becomes more noticeable as he's distracted.

This is not at all what Rhodey had expected.

He's anxious to get a closer look at some of those injuries, and there's a disturbing amount of blood on the whites the man is dressed in. Tony assures him it's not all Loki's, but Rhodey suspects there may be bullet wounds hiding under there somewhere.

When they enter the elevator he keeps his eyes forward, but he can feel Loki's assessing gaze traveling over his body and lingering on the braces. It's a feeling he's getting use to and not one he particularly minds. Let people look. Let them underestimate him. He's not ashamed of who he is.

They emerge into one of the large open areas that serves as a reception space, floor to ceiling glass letting natural light and warmth flood in. The view from here is a good one, and Loki drinks it in with a fierce concentration that requires Vision to steer him a little more forcefully than he'd like.

"So I know it's not the tower, but it's still pretty impressive, right?"

Loki's head snaps round at the sound of Tony's voice, and Rhodey doesn't miss the flicker of interest that passes across his face at those words. It's gone in an instant and is replaced again by wary hostility as he notices the new gauntlets Tony has changed into and is making no effort to hide.

Tony looks down at them like he's just noticed he's wearing them. "Oh, you like these? They're new. Prototypes really. Not quite ready for the field, but I figure I'll give them a test run. It's nanotechnology. Fewer pesky circuits and gears to worry about, you know? Less that can go wrong."

If Loki perceives the barely veiled threat he doesn't respond.

"Talkative today, aren't we?" Tony needles, smiling when this earns him a glower. He turns to lead the way deeper into the compound to the room they've prepared in advance. When they arrive, he sweeps an arm out in mock invitation at the door.

Vision moves Loki over to the edge of the bed and is much more polite when he says, "Please, sit."

Loki does so, if warily, and eyes the three people surrounding him. Tony leans against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, his casual stance belied by the way he worries at his lower lip. Vision offers another reassuring smile and steps back, creating a bit of space.

Rhodey pulls a chair close and sits opposite. "I'm going to take these off now," he tells Loki, gesturing to the cuffs. "I don't want to have to put them back on, but I will if I have to. Understand?"

Loki stares at him hard, then nods his head minutely. Tony pipes up behind them and taps his own wrist pointedly. "We're not going to have a problem. But please, give me a reason. I'd be happy to give you a demonstration."

Rhodey ignores this and releases the cuffs. Loki pulls his hands to his body without breaking Rhodey's gaze and his fingers immediately start exploring the circle of metal at his wrist. It's a tight fit – the thing is flush to the skin and doesn't budge an inch – but it doesn't seem to be hurting him any. Rhodey supposes he's grateful to Tony for that.

Vision hands him the first aid kit without being asked, and Rhodey sets it out on the bed. A shallow bowl of warm water and a cloth follows soon after. "I'm going to need you to take that off," he says, nodding meaningfully at Loki's filthy shirt.

Loki stiffens almost imperceptibly, but the message is clear.

"You are injured," Vision observes calmly. "We need to assess the damage."

This does nothing to unwind their reluctant patient. If anything he retreats into himself further.

Rhodey decides to start with the visible problems first. He holds out his hand and waits. A decision wars over Loki's face for a second before he cautiously offers his own hand, cut palm up. It's deep but the incision looks clean, and it already seems to have started healing. It's no longer bleeding, at least. Loki watches closely as Rhodey bathes it and cleans it. He barely flinches as Rhodey applies an alcohol solution that he knows has got to sting like a son of a bitch. He finishes up by winding a bandage over his work.

The glass in Loki's feet is more of a challenge. There are fragments embedded deep in the soles of both and the blood and dirt make finding the smaller pieces difficult. It's twenty minutes' work to wash the filth away and extract the worst of it, with new blood soaking everything in the meantime. Loki endures all this without a sound.

When he's satisfied he's dug out as much as he can find, Rhodey wraps them both. He sits back and gestures again to Loki's shirt. "Anything else we need to know about?"

Loki's eyes slide to where Tony watches from the doorway. Rhodey sighs.

"Tony," he says without looking round. "Think you can give us a minute?"

He hears Tony snort. "I'm not going anywhere."

As is becoming normal around here, it's Vision who is the voice of reason. "I will remain with Colonel Rhodes," he says, giving Tony a level look. "We will join you shortly."

Tony shifts where he stands and looks between them both, clearly bristling at the dismissal and trying not to show it.

"Please, Tony," Rhodey adds to soften it.

He looks like he wants to argue, but he surprises them. "Fine," Tony concedes. "But I'll be right outside. Watching."

Rhodey knows that last part is for Loki's benefit. The reinforced door slides closed when he leaves and locks with a heavy ka-chunk.

Rhodey thinks perhaps some of the tension leaves Loki's frame, but he could be imagining it. He capitalises on this by nodding again at Loki's shirt. "Okay," he says. "Let's go."

Loki hesitates only briefly. He scrutinises Rhodey's face with an assessing gaze and seems to come to some understanding before gingerly shucking the ruined garment. His torso is an ugly patchwork of bruising, grazes and burns. A network of old scars thread beneath the fresh injuries, including a shining whorl that scores from his lower abdomen to his ribs.

Much of the skin remains unbroken. Tony was right – most of the blood on Loki's clothes clearly hasn't come from him. But there are two bullet wounds Rhodey can see, one in the meat of his right upper bicep that seems to have passed right through, and another at his collarbone that Rhodey has no doubt would have killed a human. It still bleeds sluggishly, and he suspects the bullet is lodged somewhere inside. He needs to check the other side to be sure.

"Turn around, please."

Loki narrows his eyes at this. He looks at Vision, who nods in encouragement, then back at Rhodey. There's a warning there that says a breach of trust now will never be forgotten, but reluctantly he shifts around.

The large scar has an exit wound at the back, Rhodey notices, but he can see no more bullet wounds. The abrasions and cuts that decorate the musculature are much the same as on his front.

"Okay," he says as Loki twists back around. "Looks like you got off pretty lightly." He doesn't add that he guesses the guy is used to worse than this. Especially if those scars are anything to go by. "I'm going to go ahead and assume your healing will take care of most of it. You seem pretty robust. But I'm still going to look at these two." He gestures to the sites of the two bullet wounds on his own body.

Rhodey tackles the arm first. He tries to ignore the way Loki's eyes bore into his face as he starts to clean the ragged wound and jumps slightly when Loki finally speaks.

"You know me." It isn't a question.

He covers his surprise with a quirk of his lips and doesn't stop his work. "Well you are kinda famous. You made pretty sure of that."

Loki only frowns at this, then changes topic. "Who are you?"

The familiar query is one he's been waiting for. One he hopes he can work up some favour by answering.

"Colonel James Rhodes. I missed the party the first time around, but I work with Tony. And this is Vision. He's new."

Vision lifts his hand in a little wave.

Loki considers this in silence for a minute and winces this time when Rhodey applies alcohol to the wound he's just debrided. It's ugly, but Rhodey would rather trust to Asgardian healing than an attempt to stitch it himself. He roots around in the first aid kit for adhesive strips to help close the edges.

"And Tony…" Loki prompts, tasting the word like he's saying the name for the first time.

"Don't mind him," Rhodey tells him, fully aware that Tony's probably listening in right now. He sticks a square of gauze over his handiwork.

"You have nothing to fear from Mr. Stark, or from us," Vision adds, responding to some emotion he reads in Loki's face. "Provided we can say the same of you, of course."

Loki's expression looks pained, but he says nothing more. Rhodey sits back and assesses his work. One down, one to go.

"That bullet's got to come out," he says, pointing to the second wound. He rummages again in the kit for what he needs. "It's not going to be pleasant, but I can give you something to numb the pain first."

He's barely withdrawn his hand from the kit when an almost bone-shattering force knocks his arm to the side. It sends the hypodermic clattering to the other side of the room and a bolt of crippling pain shooting along his nerves. He has a moment to open his mouth in alarm before he is slammed against the wall, and the breath leaves his body all at once. The oxygen his lungs demand in return cannot squeeze past the vice-like grip on his throat that holds him in place.

Stupid, is all his brain supplies for him before coherent thought stops altogether.