Warnings: None that I can see. Just sadness cause it's Loki. :(

They've taken him to a new place again. He doesn't know why. The white place had been nice. No whips or hurts or shouts or…or…why hasn't he seen The Other or Master in so long? They always come. But now They don't. Only Natasha or Bruce come. Why? He's been good. Natasha says so and she is Master's, so she's always right. And Master hasn't hit her, so she must be good too. They're both good and Master is pleased.

So why hasn't Master seen him yet?

Why?

It doesn't make sense. None of this does. Why a new room? Why a bed? Why more clothes? Why a new name? Loptr. He likes and hates it. It sounds funny. Not right. Like it should be…else. But Natasha and Bruce call him that and say it's his name. He has to call himself that, not Runt anymore.

Why?

Why, why, why?

He isn't allowed to call himself anything. Master says. The Other says. He isn't allowed. But Natasha always makes him say it, asks if he's using it, so he has to call himself Loptr now. Has to. Must. Will. Do.

He shivers and curls up tighter against the glass window (Bruce calls it that), pressing a finger on the cool thing. It feels…not bad. Nice. Good. Not bad. He likes that. Something that doesn't hurt him when he touches it. He frowns. Is that good? Is the window being good? Maybe it's supposed to hurt him and doesn't want to. Maybe it's like Natasha and Bruce. Maybe it likes him.

He smiles.

He likes the window too and makes sure to pat it again.

Nice window. He'll have to make sure no one gets mad at it and hurts it.

The door whispers open and he catches sight of Natasha moving in. Silent. Deadly. Nice. Fake. He shivers and smiles.

"Hey, Loptr," Natasha says as she sits down next to him and folds her legs over each other. "You like the room?"

He nods. "Nice."

"It is." She looks around at it. "Stark went all out."

He doesn't know a Stark (does he?), so he just nods again. She smiles and it's fake again. He picks at the end of his sleeve. Natasha always smiles. Why? She never means it. The Other and Master smile too, but Natasha's smile is different. Nice. Not…not…no pain. He likes it, even if it is fake.

"You been using your name?" she asks.

He freezes. He forgot. Bad. Bad. He forgot. Bad thing. Bad. He loosens his curl and opens his stomach to her. "No."

She frowns. "Why?"

"Forgot," he whispers, not looking at her and picking more at his sleeve. Her hand comes over and stops him. He trembles, but she only squeezes his arm a little.

"That's okay," she says. "It'll take some time. Just promise me you'll try harder. It's important."

He bites his lip. Why? Why is Loptr important? But he can't ask. Asking is bad. Bad, bad, bad. Pain. He swallows and nods. "Promise."

She lets his arm go. "Good."

Good. He's done a good thing. Not bad anymore. He smiles. "Good."

Her lips almost go down, but then she smiles again. "Very good."

"Good," he whispers. He likes being good. Master will be happy with him. And then They won't have to hurt him.

They're such simple instructions, Runt. Can't you do even one?

And he has. He's good now. Master will let Natasha give him more broth. He straightens. "Broth?"

She nods. "But you'll have to leave this room."

He can't breathe. Leave? Leave the room? He isn't allowed to leave. Leave is bad. Maybe Natasha doesn't know that. Master will be angry with her. He'll let her know so Master will be happy with her. "Bad."

She frowns. "To leave? Is that bad?"

He nods. "Bad."

She shakes her head. "No. Not bad. Good."

Good? But Master said leave is bad. How can it be good now? Why? Why, why, why? He grabs his hair and shakes his head. "Bad."

Bad, bad, bad. Not good. Bad.

He shakes and cries and pulls his hair. Bad. He must be punished. Pain, pain, pain. He pulls his hair again. Pain. Natasha tries to stop him, but he runs away into the smaller room with the toilet. Bad. He is bad. Leave is bad. He lies down in the funny, white bed that sometimes has water in it and pulls at his hair. Bad. The bed hurts him, but that's good. He is bad.

Suddenly, Bruce is there. Nice. Calm. Soft. Bruce gently takes his hands and moves them off his hair. "Hey, Loptr. Did Natasha scare you?"

"Bad," he whispers. "Leave bad."

"Ah, I see." Bruce tugs him to sit up and grips his hands. "Leaving the room is bad?"

He nods. "Bad."

"Okay, then, you don't have to leave then. You can stay. In here or out there. Okay?"

He nods and shivers. "Okay."

Bruce leans down and looks at him. "Loptr? Natasha didn't mean to scare you. She didn't know about the not leaving. She'll go ask Master and see if he says yes, first. Okay?"

He doesn't want Natasha to ask Master. She'll be punished. But he can't say 'no' to Them, so he only nods. Maybe Master won't be too angry at her. He swallows. "This one's fault. Bad."

Bruce sucks in a breath. "She'll ask Master and we'll see."

He lets Bruce tug him up and out of the small room. Bruce smiles and it's real and nice. "I brought some more broth. Want it?"

He stops. "Broth."

Bruce nods. "You've been good, so I figured you might want some."

He does. Bruce says he is good, so Master will be happy if he has some broth. Bruce says so. Bruce never lies. Bruce knows the rules. Not like Natasha, who sometimes forgets. He takes the broth from Bruce and smiles.

He is good.

Master will be happy.

I'm sorry it's so short. It's really just a filler for the next chapter. Setting up so you know Loki's at Stark Towers now. The next chapter is either going to be Steve or Clint.

Vote now in your reviews.

Oh, and my updates will probably be even longer apart, as I'm doing NaNoWriMo Camp (July). 60,000 words in one month. Wish me luck, people!