So. So you guys remember how I sort of ended up on a cliff hanger last time? This chapter is worse. :)

Thank you every one of you for the reviews, favs, and follows. I adore it. There is literally nothing quite so wonderful as waking up and seeing all the reviews. :) So thank you.

I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.

Trigger warning: abuse, torture

This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.

This entire story is already completed and edited. We have 3 more updates left. :)

Chapter 6

Everyone in the tower is converging on that god awful scream that suddenly stopped, Bruce nearly running into Tony, Clint already sprinting around the corner into the kitchen and skidding to a stop. Steve is there, on his knees, cradling Loki. Loki is sobbing, flailing and tearing at his hair occasionally, speaking in a tongue none of them know, but he isn't flinching at Steve holding him.

"I don't know what happened. His eyes just went blue and he fell over and he screamed, I think my ears are still ringing, and he's not responding to anything," Steve is very nearly babbling, and he looks up at them as Tony and Bruce come in behind him. Bruce is relaxing, slightly, calming down the other guy, now that he knows that it's not something that needs smashing.

Loki's mouth is red, blood Clint registers, and he lets out the most pitiful keening noise, green eyes searching. He swats at something in front of him that no one else can see, and then begins to flail again. Steve wraps his arms around him, gently, and Loki stills, gasping for air, trembling.

"That, I believe, is our fault, Captain," Tony manages to say, and he moves for the liquor cabinet. He needs a stiff drink. Steve looks up at him in disapproval but it's short lived, because Loki begins to itch at his throat, at the collar that restrains his magic, and he's coming away bloody without seeming to notice. Steve grabs his hands and Bruce asks what Steve clearly wants to.

"'Our fault?'" Bruce looks between him and Clint, realizing they had come from the same place.

"Uh," Clint says, a bit unintelligently. Did he look this bad when he came out? He doesn't think so. He had managed to place himself pretty quickly, and while he hadn't stopped being freaked out that maybe his mind wasn't his own, he had known who he was, who Natasha was, who everyone was. His horror had been realizing what he'd done.

"He was mindzapped. A lot more invasive and delicately than Clint here. We've been working on figuring out how to get him unzapped for the better part of a month, but we keep coming up blank. He didn't seem like he wanted to kill himself anymore, so we figured we'd just destroy his staff." Tony tries not to flinch when Loki keens again.

Clint licks his lips, and kneels down next to Steve and Loki, grabs Loki's hand before he starts scratching at his throat again.

"Hey," he says, softly, and Loki looks at him and nearly looks straight through him.

"So you thought just ripping it up by the roots-when it was through most his mind—couldn't possibly go wrong," Bruce says, flatly, and Tony admits that the rumpled professor look is still really terrifying when Bruce gets that glint in his eye.

Steve glances up, disapproving, clearly laying the blame with Tony. Tony grumbles, but he's the genius and he's supposed to know better or something. Loki is mostly still now, staring at Clint, taking in ragged breaths. And he's stopped making that damned keening noise.

"Hver ert þú?" Loki says. "Hvar er ég?" His voice is ragged, he's clearly torn something with that scream that echoed through the whole tower, and the blood is probably from his throat.

"Clint," he says.

"Hvar er ég? Hversu langt í burtu er Valhalla?" His eyes are lost, unfocused, wavering away from Clint and looking around in confusion, and he swallows.

"Sirs, he is asking where he is and how far Valhalla is," Jarvis chimed in helpfully, making everyone start except Loki, who doesn't even seem to notice the unexpected voice, eyes dazedly following the edge of the countertop.

"Loki," Clint says, and Loki looks at him, focusing, and his grip on Clint's hand tightens.

"Þú veist hver ég er," Loki says, sharply, desperately, as if he's just found an island and he's drowning. "Þú þekkir mig... Clint... Clint Barton, circus performer, Hawkeye, likes high places. Avenger." He pushes himself out of Steve's arms, draws closer to Clint, eyes suddenly focused and sharp, one hand gripping Clint's arm, the other reaching up idly to scratch at his throat reflexively. It is, Clint decides, a bit hard to back away when crouched like this.

But then it's gone, and Loki's letting go, twisting to look at the rest, eyes losing their intensity.

"What the fuck," Clint breathes out, finding himself on his ass. Steve doesn't even look at him disapprovingly.

XXXXXX

Bruce frowned at his patient. He really, really wasn't qualified to deal with this, whatever this was. Physical hurts he at least had some experience with, but this was a whole new ball game. In a different field. Possibly another planet.

Loki sat on the table in front of him, complacent. Steve had given him a mug of hot chocolate, which it seemed he both remembered and lost no love for. Jarvis had taken to helpfully translating when Loki spoke in Icelandic, even using a voice that sounded quite a bit like Loki. Loki barely paid it any mind, though sometimes he would look around curiously.

"Loki," he said, and Loki's wandering gaze turned to him. "Do you know where you are?"

"Tower," he said.

"Do you remember how you got here?"

Loki's expression darkened and closed off.

"That's a yes then. Do you remember who I am?"

"Bruce Banner," and his voice was clipped, precise, suddenly focused, his eyes sharpening, "scientist who has involved himself with gamma radiation a bit too much. There's another you who does not like me, and I do not like him. You have to stay calm otherwise you lose control."

His eyes began to wander again, and he gave a little hum, sipping at his hot chocolate, eyes wandering to where Clint was sitting, watching. Bruce licked his lips some.

"Hvað hefur þú?" he asked Clint, and Jarvis cheerfully translated What do you have.

Clint held up a wrench he'd grabbed off of Tony's shelves to give himself something to do. Loki hummed again and sipped his chocolate.

"Now what?" Steve asked quietly, his arms folded across his broad chest.

Bruce shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "He's... well, you can see. He's only half here. Some people decided to rip out probably the only thing holding him together after he left Asgard." He looked pointedly at Tony and Clint, and they both ignored him.

Well, Clint at least looked a little ashamed.

Loki got up suddenly, and moved over to where Clint was, sliding to sit down next to him gracefully, eyes watching the way Clint's hands moved over the wrench.

"Like moments of suddenly realizing he's here," Steve murmured. "But otherwise out of time."

"Thor," Tony said brightly, flashing them all his classic million watt smile, "is going to be angry. I believe the word that fits best is 'livid.' He will be 'livid' and there be lots of storming all around the tower."

Bruce sighed and his hands reflexively found a pen to play with in one of his pockets.

XXXXXX

Loki still showed up for breakfast with Steve the next morning, and even seemed offended when Steve did not immediately offer him more waffles before his mind slipped away again.

XXXXXX

It was afternoon, and Natasha was back, and they were arguing over what movie to watch because it was a good excuse for everyone to be in the same room together. Clint felt a little rush of deja vu, but he tried to ignore it. Loki was sitting serenely on one of the armchairs, a blanket stolen from somewhere wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak. Occasionally a flicker of irritation at their arguing would cross his face, then melt away as his mind stopped focusing on the now. Clint dragged a chair over because he didn't like the way Loki would scratch at his neck without noticing, leaving angry red marks by his collar, and this would make it so he could reach over and stop him.

He admitted, privately, that he did care about Loki, and sympathized, and all that incredibly hogwashy bullshit that he didn't like to admit to ever since he had met Natasha all those years ago.

Tony came in bearing popcorn and they were still arguing over the movie. The skies were clear today; Clint kept obsessively checking. This was all so like the night when Thor showed up with Loki in his arms, and his instincts are telling him that something is going to go wrong and there's nothing he can do about it-but he can certainly watch and hopefully act before it all goes south.

They finally, finally, settle on some movie about Sherlock, not that Clint's complaining. And the movie drew Loki's attention, seemed to ground him. When he had something to focus on, he was always grounded and sharp and dripping with venom-even if it wasn't nearly as caustic as it used to be.

He swatted Clint's hand away whenever Clint reached over to keep him from scratching-and why was he scratching, he shouldn't be reaching for magic-but he didn't flinch away. At one point he snagged Clint's hand in a grip hard enough to make his bones creak and glares, before returning his attention back to the movie.

Thor usually shows up suddenly or not at all.

The only warning anyone gets-and Clint's the only one who really gets it, since he's the only one not paying attention to the movie-is that Loki suddenly flinches and draws up, looking towards the windows, darkened so the light wouldn't shine in their eyes.

The thunder booms at almost exactly the same time Thor lands in the room, Mjolnir in hand, eyes searching for his brother.

"Thor! Thor! We have talked about this, you come in through the door, that is the second tv you've broken this quarter, this is not good Thor-" and the look on Thor's face is relief to see Loki there.

"Loki, you are well. I was worried Baldr had come here-"

Clint's instincts scream. "Down!" he roars, and months of trust and teamwork mean everyone drops to the floor before they even know why they are doing it, including Thor.

The windows blow in, shards of glass going everywhere. Clint has grabbed Loki's hand, dragging him down with him, shielding him from the worst of it. Thor swears loudly, getting knocked down by the blast of wind, and then there is silence.

In the ruins of the common room, where the television used to be, stands a man that Clint has to look twice at to make sure it's not Steve standing there. His hair is longer, and he has facial hair, his eyes just a touch bluer, but he'd be ready to swear before a court that it was Steve if he couldn't look up and see Steve right there. He feels Loki stiffen as the god looks up.

They begin to stand, carefully. Natasha is the fastest of them, the most prepared, but he flicks a wrist and the bullets don't even manage to get to him before falling out of the air, stalled. He's smiling the most serene and kind smile that Clint has ever seen-seriously, not even Steve ever looked quite that nice-and he's looking at where Loki is still crouched on the floor.

"There you are," he sing-songs, his voice pure music, soothing, calming. Loki cringes back, unable to get away because of the two chairs pressed together, and all the fear and despair they had seen those first few weeks is back.

Clint steps between him and Loki.

It is not really the smartest thing he's ever done, standing there with just a knife on his person to this thing that had just casually knocked Thor down, blown all the windows out, and knocked Natasha's bullets down like flies. But he remembers how he felt when he saw Loki again, that first time after he had been controlled, and knows that Loki is getting it worse.

And, right then, if he is perfectly honest, he doesn't think anyone deserves that.

"Move aside," the man-shaped thing asks politely. "Thor, please, don't make this any worse than it needs to be."

"I don't think you get how this works," Clint says, softly, not swearing, not raising his voice.

"But I do. I'm only doing what's best for your pitiful little realm. You should thank me. Well, you will. Loki," and he smiles, "come here."

Loki makes this strangled noise, and Clint doesn't have to look to realize that it's more than just recent memories that have the god panicking.

"No," Clint answers for him.

The god-thing-Baldr, Thor had said-frowns, only slightly, and it's more the frown someone gives when something is a little off but they don't really mind all that much. He's studying Clint, as if trying to place something, and then he beams.

"You're him," he says, eyes lighting up like it's Christmas. "He is quite fond of you, you know. He could play at having people care about him while you were there. Did he tell you that? He told me. He's very ashamed for what he's done. He quite liked you and your little story. Wishes he had his own little family."

Clint tries not to let it bother him. Tries not to think of that particular shade of blue or the way Loki would smile at him-one of the few things he really remembers. He tries very hard not to snap and move before this guy does. The team is beginning to circle, and he knows Bruce is probably going to Hulk out in a second.

"Loki," Baldr says, his voice brooks no argument and commands in the way only a prince can, "come here."

Clint feels Loki start to move behind him, start to stand, and he puts a hand to the god's chest before he can step around, breaks his gaze on the fucker in front of him to look at Loki.

"Loki," he says, softly. Loki licks his lips, looks at Clint. A hand is rubbing at the skin beneath his collar. "You don't have to do this. We're here."

Loki's eyes flick to Baldr, and he flinches, and Clint turns and yells (not yelps like a little girl), and then slams into and over the couch, skids a bit. His lower back is killing him, and for a few horrible minutes he doesn't think he can move. He feels like he's on fire and as he looks up he realizes it's not just him. The whole room is a few degrees too hot and the air is swirling from the heat. Loki's stiffened entirely where he stands. He's muttering, whispering, words piling up over themselves and he's shaking. Thor is moving towards him, trying to calm his brother, a look of absolute terror on his face, and why the fuck has Bruce not Hulked out.

The god-thing starts to smile.

Loki points, and a single word cuts through the air. Clint can't make it out, realizes that he actually can't hear much of anything, and the room is nearly collapsing on itself. The ground suddenly rends outside, an earthquake shaking the entire building and the collar on Loki's throat shatters.

They both vanish.