"Hey, JARVIS, next time I do something like that, warn me of what happened with the stone."
Very well, sir.
The billionaire had woken about ten minutes ago with a major headache and a sliced open hand. Truthfully, it could've been worse, and at least he didn't break anything. He could still use his hand too, though there were bandages from his palm that weaved around his thumb down to his wrist. But after some Advil and a quick scotch, he'd been informed of the 'meeting' and was walking tiredly to congregate with the rest of the team.
"Look who's here," Barton's voice sounded first.
"Ugh," Tony grumbled, "bite me." He strolled into the council room and took a seat, sighing, an icepack pressed to the back of his head. The eyes of his teammates were on him for another good ten seconds or so before a quick glare from Stark made them get back to the task at hand. Then all pairs of eyes were on Thor.
The thunder god shifted uncomfortably under their scrutinizing stares, but cleared his mind enough to speak. "So . . . Loki," was all he said right away.
"Yup, I can already tell we're going to get somewhere," Tony grumbled, elbow propped up on the arm of his chair and head in hand with the other one holding the icepack.
"Tony." That was Steve. The super soldier turned his attention to Thor. "Can you tell us why you and Loki just . . . decided to be friends again?"
Thor drummed his fingers on his legs. His gaze switched back and forth from the team to the door, as if contemplating bolting before they could get any answers out of him. "My friends, you must know that I'm uncomfortable with this situation."
Clint leaned back in his chair, fiddling with a knife. "Yeah, we get it. But that doesn't mean we're going to let you leave without telling us what's going on with you and that psychopath." The rest of the team murmured their agreements and watched Thor with more concentration—Tony, perhaps, was not, but he was too busy pouting to be of much use.
"Alright. You want to know first why Loki changed sides and helped us close the portal?"
A collection of nods was his reply.
Thor hesitated, biting his lip in indecision. "When I went to confront Loki . . ."
Nick Fury didn't like this. He didn't like this one little bit. There was a deranged, homicidal villain onboard SHIELD's flying base—the one Loki had nearly managed to crash last time. Now, Thor thought it was safe to bring the wacko on here! If he didn't know better, he would've fallen for this little trick. But Director Fury had been through too much to let Loki's act fool him. There was an easy solution—well, that was kill Loki, but Thor would have his head if he did, so that was out of the picture.
Fury tapped his fingers on his desk, pensive. His one good eye searched the room idly, perhaps in an attempt to make him forget about the villain onboard. Nope, the ominous feeling was still there, lodged deep within his gut. With a single, fluid motion, the Director stood up and stormed towards the door of his office. He flung it open and headed down the hall, making his way to the infirmary. There was nearly no one in the rooms. The only one he actually knew was occupied was the room Loki was in, and he guessed Thor was allowing no one but Banner to treat his maniac of a brother.
The door swung open quietly.
The beeping of a heart monitor greeted Fury as he walked in, along with the wheezing sound of Loki breathing. His chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. He was dressed in a white uniform consisting of a T-shirt and pants in the same material that all hospitals had. His shoulder length black hair was slicked back and his skin pale, the dark circles under his eyes that he'd always had.
Director Fury watched the god roughly sleeping for a minute, scrutinizing his appearance. He didn't look too bad at the moment, if a bit banged up. An array of cuts and bruises littered his face and neck, though that was all the damage that was visible. Fury walked over to the various devices hooked up to Loki and glanced at the readings. They didn't point to anything good. So maybe the god wasn't faking—they couldn't be sure, however.
The Director left, unsatisfied.
"Shit, torture?"
There was Tony's incredulous gasp for the day. Thor looked a bit sickened, slouching down in his chair more than usual.
"Wait, wait, I didn't see any bruises or scars," Clint retorted, eyes narrowed.
"Yeah, me neither," Bruce said.
"I believe my brother has hidden them from our view with magic. He hates his weaknesses being seen so I think that's the reason," Thor explained further.
"That makes sense, I guess," Steve admitted.
"Or maybe he wanted to hide the things that made him the way he is in the first place," Natasha murmured, almost unheard by the heroes in the room. Surprised gazes were on her in a less than a second, and she lifted her head. "What? I know I'd hate looking at something that was caused by someone else. Especially if that thing were the one controlling me." She blinked, eyes flinty.
"Whoa, okay," Stark grimaced, forcing memories of his own down the drain.
"So what else, then? He was forced by this character to lead the Chitauri, fought until you managed to get him to admit this to you, and then the stone, I presume, activated?" Steve questioned.
"Yes, that is what I believe," Thor replied levelly.
"Then that must mean that, uh, whoever, put the stone in him, right?" Tony began again, genius mind absorbing the information. "To have complete control of him, he had to have something to threaten Loki with."
Bruce seemed to understand what Tony was getting at. ". . . And if he could forever threaten him with death—as the stone was sure to do—then Loki would be under his control."
Stark grinned slightly, but winced as his headache ignited because of it. "Owch—yes, that's brilliant." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Man, it feels good being a genius."
"Anyways, that's all that Loki has told you?" Natasha asked, redirecting the conversation.
Thor thought for a brief moment, then nodded. "Yes. The . . . torture . . . but by who I know not. That is just one of the many things I wish to ask Loki when he awakes."