A/N: Kindly beta'd by MandalorianPirate. All remaining mistakes are stubbornly my own! With heartfelt thanks to everyone who has read, favourited and reviewed so far. I treasure each and every one.

o0o

The incident is an unfortunate one, but perhaps not entirely without its merits.

If Vision has learned anything about human behaviour during his time here, it is that a mistake can be a powerful teacher. Everyone knows where they stand now, at least.

Stark's cuff performs as promised. The current it delivers is enough to lock and then release the muscle of Loki's arm, and Colonel Rhodes falls gasping from the hold like a stone. Vision may not have anticipated the speed with which Loki had launched himself forward, but he's fast enough to step in and restrain him now before further damage can be done.

The pain of the shock must be considerable. Loki writhes breathlessly in Vision's grip but is not entirely incapacitated, and it is only seconds before he's released from whatever torment the device inflicts. It would seem FRIDAY has judged the situation and adjusted her response accordingly. The same cannot be said for Stark.

The door slides open at their backs and Stark bursts in, a building whine accompanying him. He trains his gauntlet inches from Loki's face and barks at Vision to step back.

Vision ignores this command. He turns and presses his shaking charge back into a seated position on the bed, a firm hand on his shoulder enough to keep him there, then lowers Stark's arm with a pointed look.

Stark trembles with anger and simply brings his other hand up in its place. He flashes Vision a look of betrayal. Vision notes that he has yet to fire, however.

"Colonel Rhodes, are you well?" Vision asks over Stark's shoulder.

"Peachy," Rhodes confirms with a cough and a wince. He rubs tentatively at his neck and shifts on the floor. "Someone help me up."

It takes Stark a moment or two more to break the intense eye contact he holds with his opponent, but eventually he does. Careful not to turn his back on Loki, he bends to assist his friend back into a standing position.

"It's okay," Rhodes assures as he straightens. "It was my fault."

Stark is immediately incensed. "Your fault?" He turns a glare back on the man on the bed, and Loki growls at him. Stark steps forward, again raising his arm in challenge. Loki strains against Vision's hand but is unable to rise to meet the threat. "Oh, please, just make a move," Stark warns dangerously.

"Tony," Rhodes cuts in, his voice slicing through the air like a whip crack. "Come talk to me a minute. Outside."

The tension in the room is palpable. Stark is seething, and Loki's body thrums beneath Vision's palm. It's with visible effort that Stark eventually backs down, but he doesn't look pleased about having to do so. Without another word he turns on his heel and marches from the room. Vision shares a complicated look with Rhodes before the colonel follows Stark out.

"We will return shortly," Vision tells Loki before exiting as well.

The door has barely closed before the argument begins.

"Well, that was helpful. Feel better now?"

"Oh, save it. Are you out of your mind? You can't let your guard down like that."

"You're the one coming in guns blazing. Are you trying to get us all killed?"

"I told you he was dangerous."

"It was an accident."

"He had you pinned to the wall! Looked pretty intentional to me. You can't trust him."

"I don't."

"Whatever. I'm benching you. That's it. And you—" Stark rounds on Vision, "you should know better. FRIDAY is supposed to be a last resort. You're supposed to being doing the heavy lifting around here."

"I believe the situation was handled appropriately," Vision returns patiently. Stark simply glares at him.

"He's playing you."

"Tony," Rhodey intercedes quietly. "You didn't see his face. He was terrified."

"I saw plenty. He's a time bomb waiting to go off and as soon as you lose sight of that you're toast."

"None of us here are unaware of the risks," Vision interrupts. He is not unsympathetic to Stark's concerns, but neither is he prepared to allow tempers to dictate the situation. "Allow me to continue with what must be done. Our friend cannot harm me, and I believe I can act as a neutral party."

"Friend," Stark mutters under his breath with a huff.

"I do not count him as our enemy."

"Well, maybe you should."

Their attention is drawn to movement on the viewscreen next to the door. Loki has shuffled back on the bed and put the corner of the room at his back, his legs drawn up before him. Blood stains are already maring the clean white bandaging the colonel has applied to his injuries.

They watch as he raises his uninjured hand and probes the open wound they've yet to attend to. With a grimace he digs his fingers deep into his flesh, and after a brief and gory struggle, extracts the buckled remains of a bullet. He lobs this across the room with a snarl of disgust and curls himself tighter against the wall, heedless of the bloody mess he's just made.

Colonel Rhodes looks horrified by this. Stark looks faintly ill.

"Bag of cats," Stark tells them both emphatically, although Vision's not entirely certain he grasps the man's meaning.

o0o

Vision finds Stark again in the small hours, his demeanour subdued. He sits in the dark of their under-used sitting area, the subtle glow of the viewscreen before him the only illumination in the room. It bathes his face in ghostly light; he is a lonely figure on an all-night vigil. He appears to have had no sleep.

His eyes remain on the screen in front of him as Vision approaches and he chews absently on the pad of his thumb. He is deep in thought, or at least appears to be, though Vision knows this is sometimes a play for time. He will speak when he is ready and not before.

The screen displays the holding room much as Vision had left it many hours before. The food he had brought sits untouched to one side, as does the medical aid he left for self-administration. The clean clothes also remain folded in a neat pile, with the exception of a long-sleeved shirt that has been taken to replace the ruined garment he'd confiscated. The room's occupant remains with knees drawn up at the head of the bed, eyes staring sightlessly ahead.

Stark straightens in his seat with a sigh and rubs his eyes. "Been like that all night," he admits peevishly. "It's been a laugh riot."

Vision doesn't need to ask why Stark has felt the need for this vigil. He also knows it would be unwise to comment on the result.

"How is Rhodey?" Stark asks.

"Still resting. The damage was minimal."

Stark tenses his jaw but says nothing to this. He throws back whatever liquid remains in the cup he cradles, makes a face, and hastily discards the cold beverage on the table in front of him.

"I thought I might suggest an interview in more open surroundings," Vision offers. "Here in the sitting room, for example."

Stark examines him sidelong, like he's trying to work out a particularly trying puzzle. Vision is accustomed to such an expression, even from among those closest to him. He is not as guileless as he perhaps appears, although he admits it can be to his advantage to be considered so. He finds it allows him to address thornier issues more forthrightly than might otherwise be tolerated.

"Think you can get him to talk?" Stark asks, clearly with some misgivings.

"Perhaps. But if not today, certainly with patience."

"Hmm," Stark says. It's a non-committal noise, but it's an improvement on outright distrust.

"Your presence would be appreciated," Vision continues. "I would, however, ask for your cooperation."

"You want me to play nice," Stark guesses with an ironic smirk.

"I would simply ask that you put your preconceptions to one side, as I have done."

"Vis, you've never met the guy before. You don't have any preconceptions."

Vision has no intention of arguing the point. Instead, he outlines his thought process, and if Stark doesn't exactly looked convinced by his plans, he at least agrees to them.

o0o

Loki is quick to stand and face him when Vision opens the door to his room. He leaves space around himself as he positions his body and plants his feet with purpose. He lowers his head just slightly. The effect could be viewed as marginally sinister, Vision supposes, but instead of reading defiance in the stance, Vision chooses to see an attempt at self-defence. It's certainly not enough to intimidate him.

There is no need to enter the room. Instead, Vision steps to one side, leaving a clear path into the corridor outside. "We'd be grateful if you would join us," he says pleasantly and waits.

Loki shifts slightly as though expecting a trick of some kind. He cranes his neck to get a better view of whatever might be waiting for him outside, then draws his brows together in a small frown. "Am I not to be shackled?" he asks with no small amount of suspicion.

"I would prefer not to," Vision answers.

"But you fear me."

"I am concerned with our safety, yes. But yours as well. I imagine we would all like to avoid a scene such as we had last night. I think we can work together to achieve that."

Loki licks his lips. "What do you want?"

"Simply to talk. You may return here at any time."

The pause contains a wealth of unspoken sentiment that Vision is certain is not all polite. "I wish to leave."

"I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment. But if you would talk with us, we may be able to find a means of returning you to your home, if that's what you would like."

Loki's frown deepens. "Home?"

Vision supposes the prospect of trading one cell for another may not be terribly attractive, but until they can discover more about the situation and how Loki came to be here, it's all they can realistically offer. "Come. We can discuss alternative arrangements, too."

He watches as Loki makes his decision, his shoulders squaring and chin raising just slightly. He approaches the door with a keen eye on Vision and stops just shy of the threshold.

"This way," Vision gestures, allowing Loki to go ahead of him. Loki does so with caution, uncomfortable to leave his back vulnerable but intent on leaving his confinement. He is careful to keep Vision in his periphery as they walk, checking back over his shoulder on occasion.

The journey to the sitting area is a short one, but it's clear to Vision that Loki wastes not a second of it. He registers and catalogues every turn and doorway, alert to any threat or opportunity. They made sure to keep doors closed and to secure any loose items that might present temptation, but they're taking a gamble here. One Vision is confident will pay off in the long run.

Loki comes to an abrupt halt as they enter the sitting area, immediately on edge. Stark putters casually in the kitchenette as they'd discussed, seemingly ignorant of their approach. The sweet smell of pancakes mingles with the rich coffee flavour already infusing the room.

"Be right there," he calls over his shoulder without turning to look.

For a long moment Loki doesn't move. It is only once he considers Stark otherwise occupied that he deems it safe enough to move further into the room, and he immediately heads towards the large windows at the opposite end of the space. Vision wonders what it is he is looking for as he takes in the dawn-flushed landscape, or if it has simply been some time since he last saw the sky. Perhaps he is merely considering a means of escape.

Stark is playing his part admirably. He barely checks behind him as he moves about the counter, for all appearances completely unconcerned by the predator prowling the very limits of its cage. Vision joins him, accepting the stack of plates he's handed and transferring them to the table they will dine from. He returns for cutlery and glasses, laying them out neatly. He sets four places, even though he will take no food himself. Stark insists upon it, and Vision has never seen fit to offend his sensibilities.

"FRIDAY," Stark says into the air. "Give Rhodey a nudge, would ya?"

"Sure thing, boss."

Vision takes a seat as Stark deposits a stack of pancakes in the middle of the table with a flourish, dropping into a chair of his own. He forks several onto his plate and douses them liberally in syrup.

"Get 'em while they're hot," he says to no one in particular.

Loki watches all of this out of the corner of his eye with a sort of fretful agitation, otherwise examining the room thoroughly. Vision is careful not to be caught evaluating Loki directly but notes his every reaction and movement intently. He truly hopes he has not misjudged this, and that an indirect approach is the correct one.

Loki backs up quickly when Colonel Rhodes enters from a door just beyond his field of vision. There is only a faint mark on the skin of his neck, and he appears untroubled by the bruising he is likely to still carry across his shoulder blade. An admirable man, Vision thinks.

"Morning," Rhodes greets the room in general, a knuckle digging firmly in one eye. He heads directly for the coffee maker and pours himself a cup before joining them at the table.

Rhodes peers at Stark's plate as he pours himself some juice. "How can you eat those?" he asks with a faint air of distaste. "They're swimming."

Stark grins at him. "More syrup than pancake. Just as nature intended."

"At least eat some fruit or something."

Stark motions at his food with a stab of his fork. "Blueberries," he explains around a large mouthful.

Rhodes loads his own plate and begins to eat, a subtle flick of his eyes the only signal he gives. They are all ready to begin.

Stark chews a while longer, swallows and clears his throat. "So. Sleepless in Seattle. You gonna eat these or what?"

Vision allows his head to turn, interested to know what the answer will be. But Loki has his back to them and apparently isn't listening. The growing light silhouettes him against the view outside, his stance stiff and angular and conspicuously out of place.

The silence starts to feel uncomfortable and Vision can detect the beginnings of irritation in the lines around Stark's mouth.

"Hey," Stark calls. "Loki." Then with more force when he gets no response, "Yo. Loki." He snaps his fingers impatiently and Loki finally turns to look. "Yeah, you. Pay attention. You're being rude."

"Tony, cool it," Rhodes murmurs with a significant look.

"Will you not join us?" Vision asks before Stark can forget himself further.

"Do they even have pancakes in space?" Stark wonders aloud. Loki casts him a confused look. "Or, you know. Breakfast. It's a thing, right? You guys actually eat sometimes? Wait. What am I saying. Of course you do. I've seen the big guy put it away. Guy's a machine."

The silence stretches further, and Stark's knee begins to jiggle beneath the table. Vision exchanges a look with the colonel.

"I gotta say," Stark continues, his fork dropping to his plate with an overloud clink, "you used to be more the loquacious sort."

Loki returns a flat stare, and Stark intentionally misinterprets.

"You know," he expands with a flamboyant twirl of his hand, "loquacious. As in talkative, chatty, annoyingly verbose. In a prim and sinister sort of way, I'll grant you, but-."

"Yes thank you," Loki interrupts with forceful irritation. "I know what loquacious means."

"Ah ha!" Tony crows. "So you do speak. Good to know. And I know what you're thinking - I'm one to talk, right? It's a nervous habit. Part of the charm. But even I get tired of hearing my own voice sometimes."

"Wonder of wonders," Rhodes mutters and receives a swipe to his shoulder for his pains.

"I think what Mr. Stark means to say is that we are anxious to hear your version of events, whatever that may be," Vision concludes.

"Yeah," says Stark. "What he said."

Loki scowls and begins to pace, fingers wringing absently at the cuff on his wrist. Vision notices the darting glances he gives the doors, though whether for fear of what might come through them or the means of escape they offer he cannot be sure.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Rhodes asks, his plate of food forgotten. Loki flashes him a look but continues to pace. "Like how you wound up where we found you? If we can understand, maybe we can stop it happening again to someone else."

"Or," Stark adds, "you could tell us why you're here at all. Last we knew it was 'so long Midgard', 'sorry it didn't work out', 'better luck next time' and all that jazz. And I really want to believe this isn't a relapse, really I do, but it's not looking that great from here, gotta say. So what's the deal? Snuck back and wish you hadn't?"

"Tony," Rhodes warns.

Stark holds up his hands. "Okay okay. Sorry. Sore subject, I know. How about an easy one, then. How did you get back here?"

Loki frowns to himself but doesn't answer.

Vision notices Stark's fingers gripping the table edge, his patience fraying. "Oh for the love of- would you just say something?"

Loki whirls around. "Speak. Move. Change." The scorn in his voice is apparent, the pitch rising as he speaks. Vision straightens as he hears it, his focus crystalizing with every word. "I am tired of your orders and tired of your games. Stop speaking to me in riddles and tell me what you want!"

Stark tenses as though to rise, and Vision lifts a hand towards him to motion for calm. It works, but barely.

"This is not an interrogation," Vision assures Loki with a pointed glance at Stark. "We simply wish to understand. Do you know how you came to be captured?"

There's a pause before Loki replies, and it stretches so long that Vision is almost sure he isn't going to. "I don't… know," he admits quietly.

This does not satisfy Stark. "You don't know, or you won't tell? 'Cause I'm not exactly inclined to take your word for it."

Loki grits his teeth and turns back to the window, his hands balling up into fists.

"What were you doing before all this happened?" Stark continues to press. "Polishing your horns? Perfecting your sneer? Planning world domination?"

"I don't-"

"I mean, did you even get home at all, or did you pull a fast one on us all? Or did you just dupe your brother? Hey, does Thor even-"

Loki's outburst is sharp. "I don't know!"

Stark sits back in his seat, arms crossing across his chest. "Uh huh. Look, you can play it that way if you want-"

Loki fists his hands in his hair and makes a sound of frustration, and this time Colonel Rhodes raises a hand for Stark's silence.

"What can you tell us?" Rhodes asks carefully.

The burst of laughter that follows is dry and entirely without mirth. It takes a moment for Loki to master himself, and when he does it's almost as though the effort has exhausted him. He presses his forehead against the window and traces a finger in an aimless pattern across the glass.

"I was there, and then I was here. That's all I know." His voice is almost toneless. It's clear the admission has cost him much.

"Wait a minute," Stark says incredulously. "What? You expect us to believe-"

"I expect nothing of you," Loki returns sharply, his shoulders suddenly heaving. "And if you think this laughable charade will teach you more than your tortures and your poisons you are sadly mistaken. I can tell you nothing and I will give you nothing. If you try to force me again I will stop you, and if I cannot stop you I will make you kill me."

The silence that follows is broken only by Loki's harsh breaths and the intruding hiss of the dripping coffee filter on the counter. Stark gapes openly, and Colonel Rhodes exhibits a state somewhere between compassion and revulsion. Vision experiences a sensation he imagines must be similar to what humans describe as dawning understanding. He has indeed misjudged the situation, but for reasons entirely different to those he'd feared.

It is Stark that breaks the tension, perhaps unsurprisingly. "Hold on," he says, attempting flippancy but falling well short of the mark. "I'm confused."

"I think that makes two of you," Rhodes says under his breath, but his visible concern remains.

Vision is not confused. If anything, he thinks the situation is suddenly, painfully, clear. "You do not remember yourself, do you?" he asks gently, and Loki finally meets his eyes. The hollow fear Vision sees there is obvious, and he wonders why he did not notice it before.