So he's just going to say it. Even if only in his own head, and even if it means he shatters the flimsy veneer of justification he's constructed for himself.
He has knowingly, willingly, built an instrument of torture.
Because what else could any sane person call this fucked up thing they're doing? This thing they're all complicit in, this thing he inexplicably feels like an asshole for refusing to do in the first place?
He's broken every promise he made to himself all those years ago. When he swore off building weapons for those who could abuse them. When he vowed Tony Stark would do no more harm. When he'd channelled his penchant for ammunition and explosives into the generation of pure, clean energy. For science. For the betterment of humankind. For the world.
He's revised his stance on that over the years, obviously. Iron Man has always been equipped for lethal force. But it's defensive, not offensive. It's necessary. At least that's what he tells himself when he needs to. When the sleepless nights kick in and the faceless body count adds up. When he has no choice but to defend himself and the innocent. For the greater good.
Whatever. What he's saying is that he knows he's not exactly using his powers for evil here, but he sure as hell wishes he didn't feel like the biggest heel this side of the galaxy every time he has to hear that very particular sound that forces its way between Loki's teeth.
It fucking sucks.
And okay, yes, he'd agreed to this. He'd bent to the disappointed looks Vision had sent his way with the full force of all his earnest, well-intentioned naivety. And he'd felt a swell of shame to witness the undisguised relief on Loki's face when he'd let the guy manipulate him into continuing with this ethically dubious torment. But that doesn't mean he has to like it.
He likes it even less when his suspicions about Loki's frame of mind start to become certainties.
He doesn't believe for a second that Loki is really sorry about what he'd done the first time they'd tried this. Loki talks a great talk, of course. He can be pretty convincing when he wants to be. But Tony's not stupid.
When it comes right down to it, Loki will do whatever it takes to achieve his goals. Memories or no memories, it's in the guy's DNA. But the naked fear Loki had let slip when he'd thought Tony really might mean it when he'd threatened to withdraw his help… Yeah. That had been absolutely real.
So Tony breathes. He takes a deep, fortifying breath that goes nowhere towards centering him and concentrates on the few variables he can control. He reassures himself that this is no different from the last few times, that everything will be fine. He keeps his eyes averted from the suffering on display, even if he can't close his ears. Across from him, Loki trembles and sweats, every muscle locked in a battle he cannot win. Vision stands resolute, his expression giving nothing away while he waits, patient to a fault. As always.
They've got it down to thirty seven seconds. Thirty seven seconds that feel like thirty seven years. Thirty seven seconds that Tony has to find a way through without smashing his own tech to pieces. Or running, which he thinks might be worse. He forces himself to stay present, to contribute. To catalogue every spike and fluctuation in the data, avoiding Vision's eye and clamping his own teeth down so hard that it hurts.
It's a tradeoff. These extra seconds may be longer for Loki to endure, but they're at a lower intensity than before. This combination trips the mystical reset without tipping over into dangerous territory, and without laying Loki flat. A softer torture, sure, just more of it. It still doesn't feel fair.
It ends at last and Vision is there to take Loki's weight as he wilts. Tony waits for it this time, hoping he's wrong. Knowing he isn't. Loki meets his eye just briefly before his gaze skitters away, and the tight ball of self-disgust and impotent rage Tony's been trying hard to keep a lid on almost chokes him.
He'd called it, alright. There can be no doubting it now.
Loki thinks he deserves this.
This whole thing has had a distinct flavour of self-harm from the start. Of penance. Of some warped gesture of repentance and punishment. And part of Tony is horrified to acknowledge that he's at least partly to blame for that.
FRIDAY confirms stabilising vitals and that they're clear to proceed, and after letting Loki catch his breath Vision guides his charge towards rest with the same equanimity that he applies to every unsavoury task he's given. Rather him than Tony. Tony doesn't think he'd have the emotional strength to keep going, let alone the physical. The more of this he watches the more he wants to punch something, hard.
He hides it like he always does. Loki doesn't need to see it. Not right now.
Fuck knows how he's going to deal with this.
Tony scrubs at his face and wonders tiredly what it'll be this time. Can't help hoping it will be something with a little more heft than the usual bullshit.
Because before now, it's been piecemeal. Loki regains mostly tiny, meaningless details that, if he's generous, Tony supposes over time will build up to a bigger picture. But at the rate they're going and with the sheer volume of stuff he imagines there is yet to find, they could be here for centuries. Loki may have that sort of time to comb through it all, but Tony sure as hell doesn't. And the payoff so far just doesn't seem worth it.
Even so, Tony's still not ready to entertain shorter, sharper bursts and risking permanent damage while their sessions are achieving something, however insignificant the returning details may be. The fragments will eventually meld together into something that makes sense. They have to.
In the meantime they'll keep going. Because what else can they do?
Tony has asked FRIDAY to start keeping a log. He hasn't told the others. He's not really sure why.
As he waits for Loki to return to the land of the living, Tony runs through what they've learned over the course of the past few sessions. It adds up to a whole lot of nothing all told, but then Tony's only getting second-hand information here. There could be more under the surface that he's not privy to. Loki's not always an open book.
Sometimes they come out of nowhere, random little titbits that seem to surface without connection to anything in particular.
Other times there are definite triggers.
Vision is actually pretty good at noticing it when it happens. Some kind of freaky, synthetic sixth-sense, probably. Or maybe he's just better at reading people. (Tony is aware of the irony.)
One time they were preparing dinner, a banal chore they've gone through the motions of performing many times before (and one they've had to get to grips with pretty fast, now that regular take-outs are off the table). Tony'd had his back to the room, his attention focussed on some mundane task at the stove when he'd happened to glance back.
Loki, chopping onions, had gone still, a knife in his hand that had commanded all of his intense focus to the point that it had become obvious, loaded and weird. It had made something in Tony flood cold, something he's a little ashamed to recall now. Vision had approached, slowly and carefully, and without a word prised the knife from Loki's still fingers.
Tony hadn't quite heard the soft words exchanged, most of them Vision's. The result had been Vision assuming the task without further comment, and Loki quietly leaving the room. The food hadn't quite tasted right after that.
Vision had refused to say much. All that Tony had added to the log that time was a question mark and the words 'pointy objects'. The joke falls a bit flat now that he looks at them again.
Other times there's infectious enthusiasm that sours to frustration when Tony and Vision lack the references needed to add meaning to a new discovery. Like when Loki haltingly describes to them a location they can add no context to; people they've never met; an instance of joy or meaning or foreboding that they cannot relate to. Whenever that happens it exposes just how woefully unqualified they are to help someone like Loki, albeit through no fault of their own. At times Loki becomes understandably irritable when he can get no clarification on the memories he can only half understand himself, and sometimes Tony finds himself on the receiving end of a sharp or scathing remark he doesn't have the heart to rise to.
The notes he makes relating to those occasions are similarly vague.
Looking over everything now, it strikes Tony that the order in which the memories are coming back seems almost cruel. Who remembers all the inconsequential shit they've done in their lives, but not the moments that matter? Who can recall some ridiculous nickname heard once in passing but not the face of their own brother, or that they even have one, aside from second-hand accounts and a far-fetched backstory?
And how could anyone take comfort in one isolated memory when there's a very good chance that another layer of context will come down on it like a ton of unwanted reality bricks? When an innocent reminiscence of happier times can be crushed and ruined with a dousing of cold water once another, less innocuous memory slots into place?
Tony just hopes it won't make Loki reluctant to share the more this happens. It wouldn't be the first time.
Tony's pretty sure Loki regained something from New York at one point. The way he'd eyed Tony with a mixture of both wariness and confusion suggested Tony and gang featured front and centre of this particular revelation, although what conclusion Loki came to he wouldn't reveal.
Tony's starting to wish he'd added another stipulation to his agreement about this (and maybe even a blood oath or something of that sort): that Loki share anything new he learns with the group. Because there's respecting the guy's privacy and there's being smart about this - very much two sides of the same coin as far as Tony's concerned.
At the end of the day there's little he can do to force disclosure, and he reminds himself that were their roles reversed, there'd be plenty about his own past he'd rather keep private.
He's quick to dismiss the log when FRIDAY alerts him that Loki is incoming, and before Loki has even made it to the room Tony has the lights dimmed and a glass of water ready to go, complete with a couple of tabs fizzing steadily away at the bottom. He's not sure they do much good given Loki's accelerated metabolism, but Loki seems to be humouring him anyway. Or maybe he just lacks the energy to put up a fight about it.
Loki shuffles in, drops into his usual place on the couch and drinks gratefully. Tony waits.
Loki's been sleeping longer after each session (another variable Tony has obsessively been recording). Today he looks pale and unwell, kinda like he's had the crap kicked out of him, which Tony supposes isn't far from the truth. When he notices Tony's attention on him Loki offers an attempt at a smile that Tony supposes is meant to put him at ease. It doesn't work.
"You may rest easy," Loki says before Tony can begin. Perhaps he'd sensed Tony's thoughts and hoped to derail them. Or perhaps that's just Tony's paranoia talking. "There is no need for me to keep you from your work today." Loki leans forwards in his seat, his attention on where his hands are clasped between his knees.
Tony's not sure he understands. "How's that now?"
Loki gestures vaguely at himself. "I believe… it has already happened."
Oh. Oh. Well, this is new.
"Care to share?" Tony asks cautiously.
There's a hesitation that speaks volumes. "I can picture her face."
"Whose?"
"My mother's."
The silence that follows invites Tony to speak, but for a moment he can't quite find the words. When the significance of this news finally penetrates, Tony doesn't even try to contain the beaming smile that breaks out on his face. "You remember your mom?"
Loki's throat works soundlessly for a second, and when the corner of his mouth pulls up in a tremulous imitation of Tony's own smile a tear slips down his cheek.
"Dude," Tony enthuses before he can stop himself, barely restraining a fist pump that doesn't quite feel appropriate.
Instead Tony slugs Loki playfully on the shoulder with an even wider grin, then clasps it firmly in celebration. Loki allows this with a duck of his head. It's the first time he's shared anything even remotely positive from his past, to the point where Tony had started to worry that the most neutral of recollections might be the best they could hope for.
"You look happy," Tony tells him, the realisation one that Tony didn't even know they'd been missing all this time. Maybe this whole thing has been worth it after all.
That startles a laugh from Loki, an honest-to-God laugh, and though the tears are still there standing in the guy's eyes, Tony really means it.
"You wanna watch a movie or something?" Tony offers. Fuck his work. His new suit will wait.
Loki swipes at his face and nods.
After that they return to a series of unremarkable sessions that reveal nothing of any real significance. It's disappointing after the progress Tony thought they were making, and he can tell Loki had hoped for more too.
Once again it becomes kinda… boring.
The day that changes, Tony adds salt, pepper and a shitload of what were you thinking, idiot before he very quickly eats his own words.
Tony's lucky that he isn't closer than he is. He's lucky that today is one of Vision's days on duty, and that Vision is durable enough to shrug something like this off. He's lucky that it happens when the suit Tony's working on is already safely stowed, and when there isn't the usual assortment of sharp, hot or otherwise pointy objects scattered about the lab. He's just fucking lucky, is all.
There's the smash of crockery as a mug falls from Loki's hand, the sudden interruption enough to jerk Tony's head up but not something they're entirely unused to by this point. Loki goes still like he always does, and it doesn't even occur to Tony to be worried.
Vision goes to place a hand at Loki's shoulder like he's done a thousand times before; a gesture of friendship; a reassurance; an attempt to steer him gently to a seat while he works through his latest revelation. It doesn't quite make contact.
There's an almost familiar pressure at Tony's ears that has him alert and tense a split second before it breaks. Without so much as a sound of warning or a wisp of colour, and with just the slightest bunching of Loki's fists, Vision is repelled.
Anything within an immediate radius of where Loki stands that isn't secured to the floor is thrown back in a sharp pulse of power. Glass and screens shatter. Loose articles scatter from the work surfaces with explosive force, stools tip over and crash against their respective benches, and Vision himself is sent careening into the wall behind him at speed. He has just enough time to phase before his weight and the impetus behind him can smash a hole in the wall of Tony's lab.
On the other side of the room as he is, the invisible shove has a chance to dissipate slightly before it makes contact with Tony's very human, very unprotected body. The push still sends him off his feet, and his back collides painfully with the support struts of the equipment behind him. He cradles his head with his good arm as tools and spare parts clatter and fall around him. The impact knocks the breath from him, his still healing ribs shrieking their distress. When the debris settles it takes him a couple of tries to find something stable enough to help him haul himself back to his feet.
He peeks cautiously over the worktop to find Loki pressed back against a corner, arms raised to fend off attack and a series of desperate sounds issuing from him between gasping breaths. He becomes steadily louder and more laboured as he tries blindly to wedge himself more firmly into what little protection the wall offers.
With a feeling like ice in his gut, Tony realises he's seeing something he'd never imagined was possible. Loki is cowering.
He doesn't even think about it. In hindsight perhaps he should have. It's instinct that drives him, and he hopes to hell he hasn't got this wrong. Tony crosses the distance between them and reaches out, his muscles already preparing to tense in the event of more violence. Loki flinches back from him, his eyes intent on something only he can see.
Wherever Loki is, it's not here in this room.
Loki becomes almost frantic with it, and Tony knows he has exactly five seconds before this thing goes critical.
"Okay okay," he says, breathless, his own anxiety rising to match the look of abject terror on Loki's face. "Come with me. Come on. This way."
He has to throw careful and gently and take it slow out the window right alongside this is dangerous and put himself right into Loki's space, steering him bodily and urging him to put one foot in front of the other. They make it to the elevator and Loki balks at the small space. Whether he hears and understands Tony's insistence to trust him or whether whatever is going on in his head is overwhelming his ability to resist Tony is not sure, but when Loki lurches inside Tony sends a silent thank you to FRIDAY for the speed with which she sets them in motion.
In the blink of an eye that feels like an eternity they're on the top floor of the house and Tony propels Loki forward towards the door at the back of the room. When he sees what Tony intends Loki pulls ahead of him, crashing his way through the exit before FRIDAY has even finished drawing back the blinds.
Loki drops heavily to his knees in the yard outside before he's made even two steps. His hands fist into the grass beneath him as he gulps in air, his body taut against the onslaught of whatever memories hold him in their grip.
Tony hangs back, not entirely sure what to do now that they're here without risking making things worse. Time seems to stretch, a weight settling heavily on Tony's shoulders as he watches. He hopes this is helping. He firmly tells the voice informing him that being outside is asking for trouble to fuck off.
Vision phases silently through the wall at their backs, concern radiating from him, and Tony waves him away. Vision doesn't need to be told twice, but he lingers just long enough to communicate without words that he is there, that he would offer support. That he understands.
It seems to take hours. Loki's gasping breaths start to slow and his posture slumps a little, his fingers flexing and clawing at the ground like it's the only anchor keeping him tethered. Tony steps cautiously to his side and lowers himself to sit, telegraphing his intentions as he does.
"I'm guessing that one was a doozy," he says, keeping his voice low, and Loki curls in on himself a bit and shudders.
Bird song filters in as though from a distance, muted and delicate and subtle. A cool breeze stirs the fine hairs at Tony's temples. Leaves eddy around them, stirred by a late autumn breeze that sways the trees lining the back of the house. It is quiet, and still, and cool. It is peaceful. Time stretches by unmarked.
Tony finds himself talking. About nothing in particular. About the weather they're having, about the real crime special he half listened to yesterday, about inconsequential things. About whatever comes to mind. He's not sure how long they sit there like that, but by the time his hips start aching from the position he's folded his legs into there's a muted chill in the air and fading light that comes with the waning afternoon.
Loki remains as he has been, still shaking slightly but his breathing more controlled, and Tony wonders if maybe he's outstayed his welcome. He's pretty sure he wouldn't want an audience either if he were to come apart quite so spectacularly, and if there's anything he's learned about Loki in the time he's known the guy it's that he can be pretty sensitive about knocks to his pride.
Not wanting to risk setting Loki off again but conscious of the need to move, Tony clears his throat. "I'm going to give you a minute," he explains. "Stay out here as long as you need, but maybe don't go too far from the house."
Loki doesn't respond to this in any way. Tony's not even sure if he heard him.
He moves to get his feet under him and Loki shoots out his arm, his hand wrapping tightly in the fabric at Tony's collar. He exerts just enough pressure to keep Tony where he is, and although Loki doesn't say a word or even open his eyes to look, Tony gets it.
"Okay," Tony says, settling carefully back down. "Okay."