Loki was still sitting in his chair when she entered the room.
"I'm not exactly sure I understand what has just happened," he said warily and pulled down his sleeves to hide the marks on his wrists. He still didn't call forth his magic to wish them out of existence like before though. Perhaps it was something that took effort and that's why it slipped when he was having his happy little meltdown?
"I believe that was Fury letting you off the hook, for now at least."
He hummed, shook his head in disbelief and moved to get up.
"Not so fast," she snarled and pointed a finger at him. He sat back down. "How do we remove the mind control thing?"
He tilted his head with a sly smile.
She glowered back and the smile faded.
He tapped his index finger against his lower lip before he spoke. "Knock them unconscious," he said.
"And that's it?"
"It will allow their brains to recover on their own. Mind control is a volatile thing and it needs to be sustained. As I'm no longer in possession of the scepter, it will start to unravel and come apart on its own soon. A state of unconsciousness would remove all the other external interference, letting the mind deal with it faster."
She nodded. "Anything else?"
"Not everyone in the group that Barton has gathered is under the influence of the spell. They are mercenaries, or maybe just people who hate you and your government, I'm not sure."
"So, you're saying there could still be a fight."
"Yes."
"Well, we can deal with that."
"I'm glad to hear that," Loki said vacantly. "Would there be anything else?"
She shook her head.
"Shall we?"
She got up, turned around and waved at him to follow.
He did.
The agents and the carrier staff they met on their way to the infirmary glared at them with suspicion and kept to the other side of the hallway as they passed. A few hours ago, Loki was led around surrounded by a whole team of armed guards in full battle armor and now he was allowed to roam the halls with almost no supervision. That ought to raise some eyebrows.
Still, it wasn't that surprising. Both herself and Clint – one-third of Fury's current team – were recruited after their capture and convinced to work for the good side and that number was even more significant for the groups he created in the past. There was no reason to think it couldn't go the same way with Loki if Fury played it right. And it looked like that was exactly what he was intending to do.
Honestly, she was almost excited to see what kind of stuff Loki could pull off with proper motivation. Because, yes, he killed people, but so did the rest of them. She was an assassin. Clint ran as a hitman for years before the CIA recruited him. Banner's death toll might have been more contentious – after all, he wasn't in control of his own actions when he leveled six blocks in Harlem a few months back. Same with Stark – he was escaping captivity and he even spared most of the civilians in that village he razed to the ground. Compared to the rest, Rogers looked like a boy scout. His kill count was in the dozens, but he was fighting a war, even if not strictly following orders. Still, she was rather certain either of them would come on top if they started comparing numbers with Loki. Even if they counted the collateral damage in the Pegasus facility, which was a stretch – it was SHIELD's own equipment that blew up the base due to insufficient safety measures – and without that, the number sat at what? Six? Eight, if they counted the guard in Germany who Clint took down and the guy with a missing eye who was fighting for his life in a hospital. Besides, if his story about a master and mind control – and other kinds of coercion, from the look of things – checked out, those charges too could be dismissed, even without Fury pulling strings in the proper departments, as he had to do for the rest of them.
"You seem pensive, Agent Romanoff," Loki said. "Is something on your mind?"
She sneered at him. "A lot of things, actually."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"I'm trying to figure you out."
"A lot of people have tried," he laughed. "Most have failed."
"What about Thanos?"
The smile wiped off his face in an instant. "There's not much to figure out if you can tear apart someone's mind and pull whatever you want from there."
"Is that what happened?
"That and many other things I would rather not talk about right now," he said with a seemingly careless shrug.
"You will have to, sooner or later."
"Oh?"
"You will have to come clean if you want it on the team."
He blinked at her with utter surprise. "On the team?"
She chuckled. "Yeah. Can't you see that this is what Fury is trying to do?"
"Hmm," he hummed and folded his hands behind his back. His lips pulled into a thin line as he walked, deep in thought. "What makes you think I'd want that?" he said finally.
"I don't know. But it gives you an option to stand against the guy who tried to control you. A guy who tortured you…" He huffed in indignation, but a pained spasm crossed his features, just for a blink of an eye. "You don't have to do that on your own."
"I'm always on my own."
She shrugged. "Well, you have options, now. Make sure to consider them properly."
"I will," he said quietly and his gaze drifted away, towards the end of the corridor. He didn't say anything more until they reached the infirmary.
The nurses made him strip out of the rest of his garments, which came in an absurdly high number of layers. Seriously, how long did it take to put all that on every morning?
He scoffed with affront when they handed him a papery gown to wear instead and his eyes longingly trailed after the assistant who carried his discarded clothes out of the room.
His whole body was littered with a motley of injuries: lashes, cuts and bruises, in various stages of recovery. Besides the gashes on his arms that she had seen before – and a matching set on his shins – most of it looked rather superficial. Still, it was quite a collection and whoever worked on him, made sure to go through a wide repertoire of methods.
"Don't make a scene," she reprimanded. "The sooner you're done, the sooner you're allowed a proper get-up again."
"Shouldn't I be granted privacy?" he said, gesturing around. "I thought that's just common courtesy in medical facilities on Midgard?"
"For a prince from an alien planet, you seem to know an awful lot about Earth's customs," she pointed out with a smirk.
"I'm very observant," he said dismissively. "So?"
"Fury wanted me to keep my eye on you, and that's what I'm going to do. So, you better get used to me being around because I'm not letting you out of my sight."
He shook his head with feigned disbelief, then allowed the nurse to lead him to the examination couch.
It soon became obvious the theme of the party continued from the outside to the inside of Loki's body. Many bones had been broken – some were still healing – and his organs were bruised. The lead doctor quickly gave up trying to make sense of his blood results, as they didn't match up to anything he had ever seen.
"I'm fine," Loki insisted.
"You should remain under observation, at least for a couple of days, until we can determine…"
"Excuse me," Natasha intervened, "but we don't have a couple of days. Are any of his injuries life-threatening?"
She expected a solid "no" but miscalculated.
"I… I don't know," the doctor admitted. "I cannot tell without more tests and a solid point of reference. It would be, for a human. Here? After two decades of medical practice, I can say, with a high degree of surety, that I have no idea."
Loki scoffed and folded his arms at his chest with a pout. "I'm fine," he repeated. "I've healed from much worse."
It was an off-hand comment, but it still made her stomach churn.
"What would you suggest then?" she insisted.
The doctor ran his hand over his face and his shoulders slumped. "Seeing as the only point of reference I'm going to get is my patient's opinion…" He turned to Loki. "Do you know if human drugs work on your biology?"
"They do, to some extent."
The doctor nodded and went to retrieve a vial from the medicine cabinet. "Here, some painkillers, if it gets too bad. Start with one pill and work your way up if it doesn't work after fifteen minutes. Make sure to drink a lot of liquids. And have a solid meal."
Loki nodded and took the vial from the doctor's hand.
"Great, now let's go."
"I've been promised my clothes back."
"No, you were not. Your outfit screams 'I'm an alien wizard from space' and we don't want you to make a wrong impression, do we?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Come on, I'm sure we will find something to fit you in the armory."
He grunted and followed.
She crooked her head and judged Loki's new apparel critically. It was nothing special, a standard-issue black pants and a matching long-sleeved pullover with a SHIELD logo on the lapel. It made him look rather unremarkable, but that was the whole point, wasn't it?
"Do something with your hair," she prompted.
"Like what?"
"Would taking a razor to the whole thing be too much to ask for?"
He scoffed.
"Here," she said, pulling a hair tie from her pocket and tossing it to him. She always had a few with her in case she needed to keep her hair out of the way.
He bound his hair into a low ponytail.
"Much better," she judged.
He dusted some non-existent speck off his shoulder and pulled the sleeves down. "What now?"
"Now we're going to do just what the doctor ordered."
He frowned.
"We're going to the canteen."
"No, we are not."
"Oh yes, we do."
They got a couple of weird looks still, but not nearly as many as before. Those who didn't pay closer attention just passed them by without really looking up.
Loki's resentfulness melted away when they entered the mess hall and he didn't need any further encouragement.
They found a quiet table in the corner and she picked at her salad as Loki devoured his stack of food – a rather eccentric mix of pretty much everything available on the concession stand – and washed it down with a couple of glasses of water. He tried soda, but he didn't seem too keen on the idea. At least, unlike Thor, he was aware of the concept of cutlery.
"I'm starting to suspect your stomach exists in some alternative dimension."
His brows furrowed.
"Seriously, where are you even fitting all that?"
He shrugged, stashed the last couple of fries into his mouth and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
She handed him a napkin. "Better?"
"Yes," he said simply.
Her earpiece crackled and hissed, and Fury's voice came through. "Romanoff, bring Loki to the bridge. We got Barton on the line."
Now that was some inspired timing.
"Will do," she said, pressing her fingers to her ear. She didn't need to do it, the comm-link activation switch was on her wrist too, but it was a good way to let the people around her know who she was talking to.
Loki still raised an eyebrow.
"It was Fury," she said getting up. "It looks like the time to come through with your end of the bargain is on."