Boo!

It was perhaps a week or two before he began feeling less dazed, less set apart from the world, and more as if he was seeing things through his own eyes rather than another's. The memories still haunted him, plaguing him relentlessly. Those were some of the things he could remember clearly from the past – what was it, ten days since Fury had assured him that he would not be harmed? – from the past ten days. The nightmares, the writhing spectres in his head that made swinging himself out of his bed hard, so hard. The shreds of memories screaming at him just to give up, just to lay back down, close his eyes, and let himself be dragged into that deep blackness that beckoned to him. For Tony's sake, he did his best to resist it, telling himself to hope, that the future might in someway be better than the past.

It wasn't just the nightmares he remembered, though. Flashes of his waking life at Avengers Tower stood out at him, the bits in between a blur of pain, determination, and nearly-lost hope. He'd met Barton, he could remember that. The nurse had asked him if he wanted a hand unwrapping his bandages after he'd told her he could change them himself. After a few unsuccessful attempts to dislodge them, he decided he may as well bare his weakness to the one who would hate him most. So he asked for Barton – who, to his surprise, came. Pale-faced, and his hands shook as he unwrapped Loki's bandages and saw the deep horror underneath. Neither of them said anything but as Barton turned to leave, Loki gave him a nod, and a look of deep regret. An apology without words – Barton wouldn't appreciate the words of the god of lies, or what was left of him. The look Barton returned was not anger, or disgust, or even pity. Understanding. Forgiveness. The latter in small amounts, but it was there – and Loki knew he would treasure that look, that empathy from someone who had the very least motivation to show it, until the day his life ended, however near or far that day may be.

He didn't talk much at all, couldn't bring himself to do so. His throat pulsed with fire and some days he thought he should tell Tony, or the nurse, the reason it hurt so much, and why he talked so little, but some part of him wanted the pain as a reminder. It would heal eventually, he thought. Eating was near-impossible. He didn't need as much food, and had grown used to having the bare minimum, but Tony was as adamant as Loki was stubborn. He remembered agreeing to meet the Avengers properly for the first time, over breakfast. Fury had found something for Thor to do, far away, not letting him know of his brothers' return – possibly afraid for how they might both react to meeting. Loki wanted to see his brother – his brother- but he didn't want to know if, after all this time, Thor would ever accept him again.

The first breakfast had not been as unpleasant as expected. Tony hadn't been eating either – they'd both been on IV drips for a substantial amount of time, and Tony had only gotten Loki to come with him for proper food after he'd threatened not to eat anything until he did so. Loki was ashamed when he had to lean on Tony on the way to the common room where they were to eat, but about three-quarters of the way there his leg had given way, and he could barely support his own weight. He was pathetically weak. Tony had slowly walked him into the room. He'd looked around, expecting glares and suspicious looks. Carefully looking around, he had seen nothing but concern, worry, and almost welcoming expressions. He hadn't said anything, sitting down. He carefully moved his cloak out of the way – he'd been adamant on wearing a cloak. It was a lovely, deep green thing that wrapped around him and concealed his scars. Stark, sitting next to him, had pushed a slice of toasted bread onto his plate. He reached out a hand to snag it and felt everyone's stares snag at his wrist. He carefully looked away and at a few small bites. Ton followed suit, managing an entire two slices. The others fell into a low, murmured conversation Loki didn't particularly wish to join in with. Tony occasionally added a few comments to it but stayed otherwise silent.

Loki also remembered being sick afterwards, as soon as he was back in the room. His stomach was rejecting the food, remembering all the times he had been fed poisons. He was retching for a while, even though he'd barely eaten anything in the first place. JARVIS directed him to Tony's rooms when he asked, wishing for a familiar face. He found Tony, wiping his face in the bathroom. He'd been sick too, though he hadn't consumed nearly the amount of poisons Loki had. It was the amount, too – they were both stick thin and their bodies still hadn't adjusted to a plentiful amount of food. They sat together on the couch in comfortable silence for a while. They didn't need words to understand what had been done to them.

He remembered moving rooms, finally being rid of the old room that reeked of that hospital stink Loki could never quite get used to. He was given a rather large room on the same floor as Stark, something he was glad of. There wasn't much else on that floor – nobody to see his pain, nobody to see his scars. He could live here quietly, blend in, become almost unnoticeable. Take care of Stark, that was his only real purpose. He couldn't, try as he might, find another reason to hang on to this life, couldn't see another reason not to finally end the pain and the awful memories. And the nightmares that plagued his dreams sometimes.

Which was another thing he remembered. Waking up in the common room on a couch, where he had fallen asleep earlier, exhausted from a long period of time spent avoiding sleep. Waking up with a raw throat from screaming. Just being able to make out the figures of the avengers shaking him, trying to shake him awake, but much clearer were the memories rolling past his eyes like an old film, visions and memories and suffocating pain. He didn't even have time to feel embarrassed or awkward that he had been woken by them, the avengers, that they had seen him like this, because he had been so tired, exhaustion a lead coating on his bones. He'd just passed out again – this time, mercifully, into a deep and silent shroud of darkness, with no dreams. No nightmares.

Stark shared those memories with him. It had taken him a long time to convince the pale-faced god to agree to eat something, and he'd had to get Nat to go and buy him a cloak. She chose him a dark-green one that was almost black. Nat must have guessed what he wanted to hide, because she didn't say a word as she handed it to him. Loki was pleased with it, he could tell, and he'd immediately drawn it round himself and agreed to go meet the avengers for breakfast. There'd been some small talk he'd engaged in, but he mostly kept to himself, as did Loki. He remembered being sick almost right after the meal and walking out of the bathroom to a similarly ill-looking Loki. He remembered that Loki had dozed off on the couch, and he remembered absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair from the god's face. The guy looked exhausted, and Tony figured he'd been avoiding sleep – he was doing the same thing.

And then today, when Loki had come down to another breakfast which he would throw up later anyway (JARVIS had kept him informed), there was a new lucidity in his eyes Tony hadn't even realised was missing. He even gave a slight smile to the other avengers as he sat next to Tony, though he kept his customary silence. Even Fury had come down for breakfast – and looked immensely pleased when he noticed Loki's faint smile – which vanished soon enough, but it had been there all the same. The avengers greeted him politely, Bruce beaming at him as usual. Breakfast continued in a more normal, relaxed manner than it had for a long time now. Loki wasn't even attempting to eat his food, Tony noticed, he was simply picking at it. He didn't push him – yet. But near the end of the meal, Loki looked up at Fury, almost immediately catching his attention.

"If I might ask," he began, licking his lips hesitantly. His voice was still hoarse, nothing like the smooth silk it had been before, but it was still just as attention-capturing. "Do you think I might be able to see Th… My brother?" There was an odd kind of longing in his eyes as he looked at Fury almost pleadingly. Fury pursed his lips then nodded and said gruffly, "I'll give him a call – you should have ten minutes to get yourself ready, if you like." Loki nodded gratefully, then ducked his head and eased smoothly to his feet, sweeping his cloak behind him as he left in the direction of his rooms. Tony nodded as Fury then followed Loki, glad he'd finally be able to see Thor.

But Loki didn't look that happy as he sat on the edge of the bed, pale as ever. Tony crossed the room and sat beside him, waiting for Loki to speak first. "I… I don't know if he'll want me back," the god finally admitted, turning into Tony and wrapping an arm around him, breathing deeply if shakily. Tony pressed him close and rested his head on top of Loki's, just as unsure. From what Fury had told him, Thor hadn't been in the best of moods when Loki had disappeared. He only hoped Thor would take the time to look at Loki, look at him properly, and see the broken soul underneath the same face of the man who'd attacked New York then 'escaped' his cell in Asgard. "We'll see, Loki. We'll see," was all the comfort he could give. They sat together another long, comforting minute then JARVIS suddenly announced, "Thor has arrived, Sir, Mr. Loki." They stood together and walked outside the room. Loki had drawn the cloak around himself until only his face was visible, probably not wishing his brother to see the worst of his scars.

Thor was striding into a room just as they arrived there, and immediately strode towards his brother. For a moment, Tony thought Thor was glad to see Loki, but then he saw his face was full of stone-cold anger. He tightened his grip around Loki, pulling him away from Thor slightly. Loki was tense, his face full of hidden disappointment and sorrow that Tony could read there, but only because he had grown to know Loki so well. "Oh no…" he had time to squeeze out, before Thor backhanded him across the chest, sending him flying into a counter nearby. He groaned as pain flared across his torso, then looked at the counter. Well. It was the same one he had confronted Loki over, almost a year ago. Maybe even a year ago, he had lost track of time. And there were the bands he'd used for the suit. Quietly, he slipped them off the desk and turned to face Thor and Loki, slipping them onto his wrists behind his back. Loki was being held up against the wall by Thor and appeared to be struggling for breath. He didn't take his hands out from the cloak, the fool. If only he showed Thor the scars – but he didn't. Of course he didn't.

Thor was saying something to him, something in a furious, low tone that was breaking Loki up inside, he could see it. See Loki's walls slamming back up into an impenetrable, faceless mask that even Stark couldn't puncture. He slammed into Thor, pushing him away from Loki and allowing him to drop to the floor and take several deep breaths, a hand that was wrapped in the deep folds of the cloak clutching at his throat. "You stay out of this, Man of Iron!" Thor growled, grabbing Loki again. Loki didn't even struggle, eyes slightly dazed. He must have hit his head pretty hard on the wall. Tony turned back to Thor and poked him, hard, in the chest. "Look at him!" he snarled back, pointing at Loki with his other hand. Thor didn't even blink, just ran to the window and used Loki as a battering ram to shatter the window again. Fury and Nat burst into the room just as Thor jumped. Fury immediately began swearing and cussing, saying words that made Nat wince. Tony heard the cussing increase into yelling as he jumped out after Thor, only having time to yell, "JARVIS, deploy!" as he fell from the same window as last time. The suit reached him just as Thor, in midair, yelled "HEIMDALL!" and the Bifrost appeared, a bright streak in the sky, and swallowed him and his brother up… But not before Tony had managed to grab Loki's arm, and the world turned into a kaleidoscope of colours as they shot through the universe. He closed his eyes and held tightly onto Loki.

Heimdall was waiting for them when they arrived, and his all-seeing eyes must have seen what happened to Loki – at least on Midgard – because he immediately rushed to the god that was sprawled on the floor, blinking in a rather confused manner. "Heimdall," Thor said sharply. "What. Are. You. Doing? We need to get him to Father, and secure his cell, more guards -" Heimdall was trying to cut him off, eyes wide, but Thor yelled at him. "SILENCE!" he shouted, then quieted. "Your senses must have dulled if you believe him to be hurt – he's just a liar and a magic-user full of tricks." Heimdall stared after him as he dragged Loki down the repaired Bifrost, then gestured to Tony. "You need to tell them what happened. Odin refused to listen to me and has kept me from leaving my position. Hurry, you must tell them the truth. They won't believe Loki over Thor and I truly have doubts that they would believe his scars real. Run, Man of Iron."

Tony nodded, looking into the kind and worried eyes of Heimdall, and raced after Thor and Loki, eventually launching himself into the air to gain speed. He hadn't flown in the suit for a while, and there was no JARVIS on Asgard, so he was careful – but he managed to make it into the city, then ran after Thor. Nobody stopped him, which was odd – probably because they were too busy cheering for Thor. He arrived in a large chamber just a short time after Thor and Loki – and met, for the fist time, Thor's father. Odin, king of Asgard, who in all his majesty, wisdom and kindness was gazing at Loki as if he were the worst kind of street scum. It was pathetic, this judgement, so after a particularly nasty glare in Odin's direction he ran straight to Loki and hoisted him up so he could stand and face his father, rather than lying dazed on the floor.

"Well," said Odin, striding down from his throne. "Well."