Hello and welcome (to the three people in the background who still check this story sometimes)! Though this fic is about trauma in itself, I feel like I should give an additional warning here, because this chapter is detailing the process of a severe PTSD attack, which I tried to make as realistic as possible.

Enjoy?


"Like in the good old days, I suppose you were about to say, Stark."

Iron Man winces, visibly annoyed to see how easily Loki has guessed his very first thought. A satisfied grin appears on the latter's face.

This may appear quite strange (i.e. completely insane) to some people (to most people), but it is indeed in times where theatricality turns out to be rather counterproductive (in extremely irksome, disgracing, and potentially life-threatening situations) that Loki best finds inspiration.

But after all, isn't it what he is supposed to be the god of?

Though he cannot deny that, as Morgan would say, there is a lingering feeling of déjà vu. Beings in chains? Seems to always happen at some point. Questioned by the Avengers? At this rate, he should brace himself for signing some autographs. Locked up in a cell right after having been punched in the face by the last, nonetheless the angriest, Valkyrie?

...

Sigh.

Loki still cannot open his left eye. Valkyrie was enraged, to put it mildly. She did not appreciate very much Morgan's use of her power on her once again, and Loki is almost glad she took it out on him. Morgan would clearly not have survived.

Though Valkyrie is by far the least of his worries (she hits hard but she only hits once). What he is concerned the most about is...

"Can't say that it doesn't ring a bell." Stark huffs.

The man's attempt at appearing composed is not even one. He seems within an inch of fainting; his unsteady walk and the dark circles under his eyes speak for themselves.

Not as if Loki was in his best shape ever either. When he woke up, in a haze, he took long seconds to look for the debris of the building which had surely fallen right on his head. Everything -Valkyrie's punch, Stark's taser earlier on, even Wilson's attacks and, obviously, the Witch's telekinetic and psychic manipulations- had come back at once, leaving him severely disoriented. Needless to say, the cuffs maintaining his hands behind his back do not exactly help.

Here it is, the most unpleasant aspect of this already tremendous mess.

Thor seems to be... Alright, let's face it, Thor clearly is distrustful of him, now. Loki is fairly certain that the reason why Stark is the one coming to see him is that his hot-headed god of Thunder of a brother is unable to control his temper, and is probably going to spend the next couple of hours deforesting the surroundings of the Avengers compound, to cool down.

So, back to it. Back to wariness, back to isolation, back to those Hell-forsaken, Asgardian-made cuffs!

That really hurts. Not the binds themselves, but the fact that Thor, or Valkyrie, still had them. As if they were waiting for Loki to just...

"Hey, Hannibal Lecter, are we going to just stare at each other for the whole night or are you going to say anything to defend your cause?"

Loki takes a stern look at Stark, and sees the Midgardian gulp a little, which sorts of reassures him. Even chained, imprisoned, with a black eye, he remains quite capable of intimidation. Though he would feel much better in a more adequate outfit. The clothes he is currently wearing -a white shirt, well, not exactly white anymore, with the amount of dust adorning it, and dark-green trousers- are of Midgardian fabric, and definitely not the most indicative hint at his regal status.

As said before, in such degrading situations, Loki would only laugh. A prince with no crown, a trickster with no freedom, in short, a homeless god. Almost poetic.

"Defend my cause... How poignant you can be." He snarls, not hiding his contempt the slightest.

What is there left to defend when he is already judged and sentenced? The cage Loki has been thrown into reminds him of the one he had -very temporarily- been locked up in, years ago, on the SHEILD's flying fortress.

It is literally an empty box. He is surrounded by four thick glass walls, which may not be solid enough to resist his strength, but might sufficiently slow him down to warn the Earth's Mightiest Morons. Loki does not know where exactly he is confined. The absence of window, combined to the fact that the much larger room in which his cell is built is only brightened by a series of thin neon lights, leads him to think that he is now standing right under the Avengers' compound.

"Right, maybe not the best way to put it..." Stark sighs "And you know what, I'm so tired of all this wreck, if you really don't want my help, just say it right now, so that I don't have to waste my time trying to get you out, and you can freely complain about how unfair the entire world is towards you."

"Overdramatic..." Loki comments, rolling his eyes.

"Look who's talking."

Why can't Loki bring himself to properly scorn this Midgardian?

Of course, Loki knows why. Stark is just one of the most irritating beings he has ever encountered.

No need to add anything.

"And why would you want to help me?" The god cannot help inquiring "You looked like you had well made up your mind, earlier on."

"Yeah, I..."

Stark stops his sentence to take a long, deep breath. Evidently, what he is about to say is going to cost him a lot.

"Okay, I was wrong. About you. I mean, I'm not exactly at my best right now, but... That doesn't change the fact that I clearly owe you an apology."

Five long, very long, seconds of meaningful silence follow. Then, as soon as Loki opens his mouth again, the engineer raises his only valid hand in front of him.

"Just so you know, I'm not gonna repeat that."

"It is going to haunt you forever, though." Loki mercilessly taunts, all smiles.

"Shut up, before I change my mind."

The god of Mischief shrugs, not exactly intimidated. He even settles more comfortably against one of the glass walls (as comfortably as he can, with these cuffs on, and by the way he will have to think about what he can turn them into, as soon as he escapes), legs crossed, and Stark decides to do the same, sitting on the floor, as there literally is nothing else in this vast underground than the two of them and Loki's prison.

"A few hours ago, I was just concerned about that damn press conference we have to give tomorrow... Actually, today, since it's half past midnight." Stark rectifies "And now, I can't even care, because everyone is basically turning insane. Some think you wanna kill us, some start to suspect Wanda's gonna kill us, and now some suggest that it was all a plan of the Wicked Morgan of the West. So, you gotta help me sorting this out."

Loki's gaze suddenly becomes much fiercer, and Stark immediately appears to guess his intention.

"Just so you know, we're not harming her and we're not planning to..."

"Not as if you would succeed." Loki smiles wryly.

He is not really afraid for Morgan. Mmh, that's not exactly true. He is afraid for Morgan, but he is also...

Just a moment. Little flashback ahead.


He walks out of his prison, his plan unravelling to perfection, right after having dropped the cage he was previously occupying, with, bonus point, Thor inside. The thing is, there is this Midgardian on the floor, who is bleeding to death and yet still manages to defy him.

"You're going to lose."

Loki turns, quite incredulous at the Midgardian's endurance and audacity.

"Am I?" He sneers, wondering if he has to remind him that he is agonizing.

"It's in your nature." He articulates again.

A disdainful smile appears on the god's face, as he presents him with how pathetically disorganized those who thought they had him in their grasp have become.

"Your heroes are scattered. Your floating fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?"

And obviously, the Midgardian still has some air in his lungs.

"You lack conviction."

Loki did not expect that. Not at all. He has to muster all his strength for his face not to bluntly reveal how unsettled he feels, and yet knows that he has failed, which enrages him even more.

He can't even start to stammer a miserable line of defence, just to have the last word. And not only is he far from having it, he also gets a very sudden and very painful shot in the chest.


He really should have taken his weapon first.

Anyway.

These memories have emerged with no prior warning, and Loki almost wants to burst out laughing.

It is so different now. Even more, it is so diametrically opposed.

He was planning his escape, now he has no way out (yet). He had an entire army, a powerful weapon and a grandiose plan (at least what he thought was one), now he has pretty much nothing and no one to fight with.

And yet, despite everything he had, at that time, he was utterly alone. Now, despite everything he is deprived of, he has never felt more confident. This sensation is new, and, needless to say, pretty pleasant to enjoy.

Sure, he is afraid of what can happen to Morgan (and to him, as side-note). Yet, when he thinks about her, he cannot help imagining her in the same sort of position as his, maybe locked and beaten up (not too much though, there are limits to what he can picture) but always taunting the ones who foolishly hope to intimidate her.

Every time he has ever found himself in chains, which tends to be the case quite regularly, he has been looked at in many ways: scornful, fearful, hateful, which he always pretended not to care about, though being very much aware of every single one of these stares. And now that the heroes of Earth are still so distrustful of him, even after he joined forces with them to kill the Mad Titan Thanos, and suffered unspeakable torments when using the Infinity Stones to bring the billions he killed back to life, well, he really, really does not care that much.

Morgan is always here. She cannot always protect him, the same way he cannot always protect her, and yet she is always here. Always laughing, not at him but with him, and if she could speak loud enough, Loki is fairly certain that she would just yell jokes at him from her cell.

No matter what he has to face, he is going to win, he knows that.

So, back to it?

Back to it.

"The two of you are being giant pains in the ass of everyone, you've made that abundantly clear." Stark rolls his eyes "I still don't get what her powers are about. One second, she's full shamanic mode, the next, she's literally a living EMP."

Loki raises an eyebrow.

"Electromagnetic pulse." The engineer elaborates, before taking a long sigh "She shut down all electronic devices in the compound, earlier on."

The god of Mischief is literally beaming now, and the man's annoyed face does not help.

"I am afraid I cannot help you on that one, Stark."

"I seriously doubt it, but at the moment, that doesn't matter. What I need is... That sounds like the most stupid thing I'll ever ask you, but I need to know the truth."

Loki says nothing, used to the same old tune. God of Mischief, can't be trusted, always betrays everyone, and so on, and so forth, play some melodramatic music in the background.

"We've messed up, each and everyone of us, that's the only thing I'm sure about." Stark continues, massaging his left shoulder with precaution, a move he apparently does out of nervousness "I know something is off, Steve knows something is off, your brother knows something is off, even Sam does!"

"Now that, I seriously doubt." Loki snickers.

To the god's satisfaction, Stark cannot hide his little grin either.

"But we're all in the dark, here. And since there's nothing else that frustrates me more than this, apart from having to lock you up in a fishbowl again, I need you to tell me what really happened."

"I humbly accept your offer to let me out, then." Loki declares.

"Hey, that's not what I said!" The engineer protests, though his enjoyment is becoming way too visible.

But very well. Stark wants the truth. Stark will have the truth. Who said Loki was not a benevolent god, seriously?

The truth begins just where Iron Man has left off, that is to say in the common room of the compound, right after everyone left to brood in his or her own corner. So, it turns out coincidences still exist, and Loki indeed stumbles upon Wanda Maximov without any previous intent to do so. Obviously, since he's not such a big fan of screaming oh no, the Scarlet Witch, please don't kill me and run for his life, he starts talking to her.

Why, Stark seems about to ask, well, does he really need a reason? Of course, there is no specific why. He sees her, he suggests they talk, and they talk. Loki's like that. Impulsive.

But let's get to the part where it goes sideways. The Witch just snaps, there's no other way to put it. So, for a moment, Loki's not exactly in the best state of mind, literally and figuratively, to describe accurately what happens, but when he regains the very basic of consciousness, the first thing he sees is Maximov throwing Morgan against a wall. Which, granted, drives him quite mad.

"Quite." Stark huffs.

Quite. Afterwards (no need to expand on the part where everyone screams at each other who's right and who's wrong), what's more interesting is...

"Sorry, pause." Stark interrupts again "Wasn't there also a little something with you and the Guardians? You know, Valkyrie shouting at you that you've hypnotized her again? If you can't recall that, it was right before she punched you in the face."

Oh, that. Sorry to disappoint, but it was Morgan's doing. She found it rather funny.

"You're insane." Stark mumbles.

"Look who's talking." Loki smirks.

Though what follows is a striking example of insanity.

"Wait." Stark cuts, again "How can you be sure that Wanda...?"

Right, Loki isn't exactly sure. He has only seen the Scarlet Witch open the door to M, a vengeful and destructive personality, who tried to kill both Morgan and him. Twice.

"But yes, whatever you say Stark, I can't be sure." Loki sneers.

"Okay, I get it..." The man whispers, lowering his eyes "It just feels like... It is never ending."

It is never ending.

It is never ending.

It. Is. Never. Ending.

These words start to buzz like hornets in Loki's skull. He mechanically shakes his head a little to get them out.

"So..." Stark hesitantly speaks "What happened to this... M?"

It is never ending.

"Morgan pushed her away." Loki simply answers, hoping for the tenacious voice in his mind to just shut up.

"What do you mean, pushed her away?"

It is never ending.

"I can't know for sure, Stark." Loki hisses, finding it increasingly hard to focus "You would better ask her directly, and if you are lucky enough, she will agree to answer you."

It is never ending.

"Well, that's just..." Stark begins, then seems to realize that he cannot end his sentence "... Yeah, we're in deep shit, once again."

It is never ending.

Loki shivers as he hears the voice resonating louder and louder in his head, and feels a terribly sudden sensation of dread creeping down his spine.

IT IS NEVER ENDING.

The pain is never ending. He has never been here; he is still there. In the white. In the silence. In the nothing.

Loki suddenly feels his hands shaking behind his back, and no, he thinks. Not now, not here, not like that. He can't... He can't what, exactly? What is happening to him?

He doesn't know. However, there is one thing he knows for sure, and it is that it is never ending.

He is trapped. Trapped by the white. Trapped by Thanos. Trapped by the red light.

It is never ending. He is always trapped.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Stark calls, which triggers another, more violent wave of panic.

He has noticed. He has noticed something is off. But what is happening to him, exactly? Why is he... Are... Are his hands shaking? Is his breath accelerating?

Why... is... where... what happens... is it real... why now?

"You have the truth you asked for, haven't you?" Loki says, mustering what feels like all his strength to just keep a steady voice "Now leave, and do whatever you want with it."

"Wow, I thought you'd remind me to get you out, and now you wanna stay." Stark points out "Your reasoning's really not easy to follow, if you've got one."

Loki feels such an intense rage and disgust at himself that it almost blocks his breath. Confidence? Really? How could he even think about this, earlier on? Oh no, he is everything but confident. He is pathetic. He is weak. He is trapped.

It is never ending.

Loki wants to fly away. To desperately slaughter whoever stands between him and the way out. Because he has to get out. He has to fly away from... from...

The pain is never ending.

How bad he wishes to be the Scarlet Witch! There is nothing he hates more than being at the mercy of this indescribable suffering, he wants to destroy it, burn it, tear it to shred, he wants it to stop!

But he can't... He can't... He's not...

"Loki...?" Stark's voice echoes, increasingly distant.

He knows he cannot fight this powerful feeling of terror taking hold of his body and mind. He has already given up trying to control his breath, now he cannot even focus his gaze anywhere. He is mechanically surveying his prison, to look for a way out, something, anything!

But there is no way out. There is nothing. There is just the white. Just the Mad Titan. Just the red light.

He can't flee. He can't fight. There is only one option left: survive.

Wait for it to pass, and survive, Loki repeats himself, wait for the white void to make you insane, and survive, wait for Thanos to break your bones and snap your neck, and survive, wait for the red light to play with your mind as if sees fit, and survive, this is the only thing you can do, survive.

He has to... control... breathe... has to... doesn't know... just wait... he must... it will pass, it will pass, it will pass...

"Friday?" The familiar yet so far away voice speaks again, and only then does he realize that he has fallen on the floor and is unable to move.

He must not move. He knows that. Not move.

"Should I call Doctor Banner?"

To call... To call someone... Someone else... Someone who might be a threat... Someone who might see... See how weak... See how pathetic he is...

Loki bites his tongue so hard that he can feel blood running down his throat. More to come. It is never ending.

"Nope, you don't call anyone. Open the door."

"Boss, I don't recommend..."

"Friday, open this door or I reboot you with Windows 95."

After that, a succession of sounds, a buzz, something sliding, and footsteps. Loki is disoriented, he doesn't know if he is looking at the ceiling or at the wall, everything looks the same, he wants to get out, he wants to get out!

But no, he can't. He must wait. He must survive. It will pass. As always, it will hurt a lot, then it will pass.

The footsteps stop. Someone, whoever that is, is now standing next to him. Probably to make him suffer more. Of course, since it is never ending.

"G... Get... Out..." He manages to whisper, which speeds up his breath even more, if it was possible.

"Let's get you out first." The strangely familiar voice mumbles, and before Loki has the time to understand what this sentence means, he hears a neat click behind his back, and the pressure around his wrists disappears.

He immediately presses his hands against his chest, but that does not make the pain he feels go away.

"I know it's hard, but try to slow down your breath, just a little." The person next to him advises, while advancing a hand towards him.

Loki instantly jerks away.

He must not accept anything. He must resist. He must survive.

He straightens up a little, ready to strike. He has no weapon, it does not matter, he will smash his enemy's head against the glass wall, he will punch his face until the latter becomes unrecognizable, he will tear his throat apart if he has to...

"I know how it feels." The voice assures, breaking his train of thoughts.

He can see that there is a man in front of him. He looks tired. Not very young. Not really strong. He has no visible weapon at hand. He has only one hand. His entire left arm is missing.

But the most striking feature of his appearance are his eyes. He is... scared?

"I know how it feels." The man repeats "Cause I felt the same. Still do."

Loki does not move an inch, still on the lookout. His breath is hasty and loud, and he wants air, he wants air so bad...

"Yeah, most people told me that it wasn't real, get over it and stuff, but I knew that it was real. Just like I know you're ready to kill me if I move."

Loki says nothing. He listens. He wants the man to talk more, just to think about anything else than it is never ending.

"But you gotta make a choice here." He continues "Either you stay, either you get out. And I know you wanna get out."

There is nothing he wants more than to get out. But he can't. It can be a trap. He has to survive.

And yet, it is not... The man is not...

He is not enjoying this. He is not trying to make him suffer. Then, what can he possibly want?!

"I really, really want to get the fuck out of this room." The man insists, his right arm now clenching his left shoulder tightly "And I want to get you out too, otherwise I'm gonna lose it, I can feel it already."

He is not attacking him. He is not belittling him. He is... He is like him. Panicked, and weakened, and looking for a way out.

Maybe he can... No, he... He can't...

It is never ending.

"It... It's never... It's never... ending..." Loki mutters, in a daze, not even realizing if he has spoken out loud or not.

And then... And then he can see real pain, real fearon the man's face (feels like he knows him, but who is he already?). This is so strange. Does he... Does he genuinely want to help him?

Can he... accept something? Can he let himself be even more vulnerable than he already is?

"Y-yeah, n-no..." The man stammers, as confused as him "It's over, but it doesn't feel like it's over, I mean, I just... I just wanna get out of here!"

Loki watches with incredulity as the other man grows even more agitated, looking around him in a way that is more than familiar to him.

Alright, maybe he can try to get out. Maybe he can try to move.

However, even though he perfectly sees himself taking a step forward, his body refuses to obey. He remains frozen, completely unable to stand up.

What is wrong with me, he thinks, why can't I just move, why can't I just calm down, why can't I just stop being so weak...

"Don't overdo it." The man speaks again "The numbness, it's temporary, it'll go away pretty quickly."

He knows. He has this, whatever that is, he has experienced it. He knows what it is, and he knows what to do.

"Get... me... out..." Loki finally asks.

And then, the most unusual answer of all. No sarcasm. No humiliation. No pain either. Just...

"Okay."

He just says okay. He just gets him out. He just grabs his arm to stabilize him, noticing how unsure his legs still are, despite the discomfort it is visibly causing on the left side of his body, where one of his arms is missing. He just helps him and that is all. That is absolutely all.

When the two of them finally rush outside, on some sort of balcony or whatever, they just breathe, without bothering to articulate a single word.

Alright. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Fresh air in his lungs, it feels so good, so liberating. He progressively regains some clarity, and realizes that the night has fallen. He is still in the Avengers compound. He is with...

Stark.

The man has sat down, his back against the wall, eyes closed. He is trembling a little. Loki looks at his own hands. He surely is in no better state.

"If you wanna go, I've never seen you." Stark bluntly declares, without moving an inch.

"What?" Is the only thing Loki can answer.

"Think you've been through enough." Stark clarifies "Steve and the others will probably sulk for a while, but if you want to go, I can make sure no one finds you again."

Some standard answers like I don't need your help, or why would you even do that naturally come to Loki's mind, nevertheless, he cannot deny that he is faced with a very tempting perspective.

He could just go away. He could... do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, without having to conform to anyone's expectations, which always seems to be unsuccessful, whatever he attempts.

Loki doesn't know for how long he has been thinking, because when he looks at Stark again, well, the place where Stark previously was, the latter is gone.

The god of Mischief turns around. The night air is simply delicious to inhale. From where he is standing, he can hear the wind ruffling the branches of the trees nearby, and see the distant lights of the city.

It would be so simple. He would become whoever he wants, whatever man or woman, and just... do as he pleases. He would be free.

And alone.

Loki clenches his teeth and grabs his hair, ignoring the ache it causes him. He doesn't know what to do. He is equally torn between two perspectives. What to do? Where to go? How to choose?

He falls on his knees, physically and mentally exhausted. At the moment, the only thing he desires is to rest.

And to seek some counsel. More. Some support. Some comfort.

He doesn't want to be alone.

But he doesn't want to be trapped, ever again.

Loki sits down, his back against the balcony. His breath has become steady again. He closes his eyes to better focus.

Morgan, I need some advice.