A/N: I sorta feel like I'm rushing this chapter, but I figured if my perfectionism kicks in I can fix it later. ;D

Chapter 8

It hadn't gone as well as Thor had hoped. In fact, it hadn't gone well at all. Loki still didn't know the two assassins were in the building and Thor couldn't help but feel like he was keeping a secret that Loki needed to know.

At the moment, he and his brother were wandering the halls, as Loki felt of the innumerable and varied things in the tower. After lunch, which was much easier for Loki now that Tony had put a 'mini-fridge' in their room, Loki had, with considerable effort, indicated to Thor that he wished to look around. Well, actually Thor hadn't realized it at all and, oddly enough, it was Jarvis that had figured it out. Loki had pulled and pushed him out the door, then began touching things in the corridor outside- to which Thor was utterly confused. The AI had chimed in suddenly, suggesting what the younger god might be trying to say.

Afterward, Thor couldn't help but feel slight jealousy, that an artificial intelligence had figured his brother out where he could not. It was ridiculous, of course, he knew Jarvis was very intelligent- hence the title -but Loki was his brother. Should I not know my own brother better than some machine of Stark's?

While wandering one of the floors below theirs, Loki began to stray a little further from Thor. It didn't concern the thunder god since there was no one in the corridors and, even if there were, there was no one hostile in the tower. Thor himself moved around, touching things- paintings and plants and other various and, sadly, uninteresting items -and was barely paying any attention to his brother.

Suddenly, a muffled yelp and a sound of a door opening reached Thor's ears, and then a curse from someone near Loki's previous location. Not seeing his brother, Thor dashed to where he knew Loki had been, only to see him falling backward- almost as if thrown -out of a room that he had somehow entered.

"What the hell?!" yelled the familiar voice of a man.

Loki was making repeated sounds of distress through his nose as he scrambled away on the floor, then hit his head against the corridor opposite the door. Another yelp and whimpers of panic escaped his closed lips as he reached out his arms- reminiscent of a child awaiting a parent -waiting for Thor. Immediately, the thunder god was at his side, pulling him into a comforting embrace and talking against the side of the trembling god's head, just as he always did when Loki was fearful.

Another curse from behind Thor's back. "I, uh... sorry, I guess," said Agent Barton's suddenly quiet voice. Thor looked to him, but not with anger, knowing that the archer had no doubt opened the door, only to find Loki outside.

Still, Thor wanted to know. "What happened?" he asked, standing up with his brother still clinging to his neck.

Barton shifted his weight, crossing his arms, then uncrossing them. "I, um, not sure. I just opened the door and he..." a hand waved in Loki's direction, "fell in."

Thor nodded. "Apologies, I should have been watching him closer; it will not happen again."

Natasha Romanoff walked up beside her partner. "You okay?" It wasn't clear who she was asking, but the archer answered with an 'I'm fine' as he walked back into the room. The lady, however, walked into the corridor with the brothers. "Is he okay?" she asked next, face betraying nothing, not even true concern, if she felt it.

Thor nodded, but it was more a reflex than anything. There was no real way to know how 'okay' Loki could be.

The spy crossed her arms, but more out of contemplation than defensiveness or anger. "I guess he has no idea what's happening," she said, looking at Thor, then Loki. The corner of her lip curved up in an almost smile as she shrugged. "Tony told us they had to let Loki touch them for him to know they were there- would you like me to try that with him?" she offered suddenly, and Thor was taken aback by her willingness to help an enemy. Well, perhaps it is not for Loki, but for me.

"If it is not an inconvenience..." Thor began.

"Oh, no, it's fine," she said, but her mask had returned and Thor had only her words to tell him what she felt; and like Loki, Natasha's words betrayed only what she wished. She took a step forward, hands lowered to her sides.

The thunder god hesitated, trying to pry his brother off enough to get him to face the agent, at least. After some muffled protests and quick kisses on the smaller god's head, Loki was finally facing forward, even if he still clung to Thor with an iron grip. His white eyes were wide- probably a habit since there was no need -and he whimpered and tried to pull back when Thor tried to raise his arm.

Thor sighed but Natasha spoke, "Is it possible he already knows?" He looked to her, confused. "I mean, he practically fell on Clint, could he have figured out who else was here with just that?"

It wasn't impossible, Thor assumed, but it might be better to be certain. "Perhaps, but we should still..." he trailed off and Natasha nodded.

Gripping the thin wrist- you are still so thin, brother -Thor guided the hand forward, but suddenly wondered how he would know it was her.

"My hair," offered Natasha, touching the red locks briefly.

"Of course," said Thor, knowing that Loki would have guessed that the only people he had so far been introduced to were Avengers, and Natasha was the only Avenger- other than Thor -who had long hair.

The long fingers, slightly shaking, moved forward, then tentatively touched the hair as the spy remained perfectly still. And when his fingers- which Thor knew were cold -moved to her face, feeling there with light brushes, Natasha still did not move, face blank and watching the trickster. What emotion lay there? Thor could never guess in a thousand years.

As if her face had suddenly caught fire, Loki jerked away, almost hitting the back wall. His face frowned fiercely and he looked to Thor, as if he could see the thunder god even through his damaged eyes, a long whine passing his closed lips. Clearly he was asking for something, his distress mounting. Still, it was different, somehow, than with the others. Loki wasn't just fearful, he looked... Thor wasn't sure what the emotion was.

"I think he's asking you to protect him," stated the assassin, cutting through Thor's thoughts.

"What?" he blurted out as he held Loki up.

"He's asking you to continue protecting him; from us, I think. Me and Clint." Now his gaze shifted to the woman, whose face remained blank, but her eyes watched the god in Thor's arms intently.

"Why would he?" Thor said, confused. "He knows I will protect him, why would he ask this of me?"

"He knows we're friends and that he's just the enemy here- at least to the rest of us. And how can you be sure he knows that? Have you been able to tell him?"

Thor frowned. He, in fact, hadn't considered that. He knew that Loki was clueless as to what happened around him, but it never occurred to Thor that he might doubt his love, his devotion, his vow to protect him. "I..." started Thor, mouth agape, but he couldn't finish his sentence since he had to- had to crush his brother in his embrace, had to make Loki see. He must see, he must see... I will never leave him, abandon him. I will always protect him. How can he not see?

He kissed the bridge of the other's nose and held him against his chest, mouth on his temple. "I will never stop protecting you, brother. Never... never, never, never..." He repeated it as a mantra, certain that if he said it enough times, his little brother would somehow hear it, know it. He had to. He just had to.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Loki laughed. It wasn't a laugh that said, 'You're quite humorous' but rather 'You're quite pathetic'. The god of mischief and lies had been moved... somewhere. He was no longer in Asgard, or so he assumed, given that they had passed through a portal to get here. The air was dry, quite irritating against his skin, and his cell small. Smaller than the one on Asgard, at least. Did they think to punish him with a smaller cell? Surely they needed a lesson in how to punish others.

They had said nothing, his new keepers, and they all wore masks. Well, more like hoods, black hoods without eye-holes that were no doubt meant to frighten him. What do they take me for? He had chuckled at their ridiculous visage, insufficient to frighten a child.

And now, here they were, trying to torture him, or so Loki assumed. They need a lesson in that, as well, he thought. It was a simple beating, nothing more. He was tied to a rickety wooden chair in the center of the room.

It wasn't that it didn't hurt, but Loki had survived far worse and by people far scarier- not that these were even remotely frightening.

The beatings had started a few days ago and they had returned Loki to his cell without a single word to him after a few hours of the 'torture'. It was strange, that they didn't ask him anything, or even say anything to each other, but it wasn't anything Loki couldn't handle. He just assumed this was meant to be a part of his punishment and that the men were too dumb to even speak.

Brutes, the lot of them.

But after two weeks of the same torture, Loki was becoming tired of it. "Is there nothing else you can try?" he asked mockingly. "A flogging, perhaps? The rack? Drowning? Anything? Have you no creativity at all, good man?" He wasn't certain just who he was addressing, perhaps all three of them. "I'm getting bored," said Loki in the driest voice he could manage.

Alright. So he wasn't truly bored, but he couldn't very well allow them to think any of this was getting to him- because it wasn't.

A fist flew at him and his head flung to the side. "Ow," the trickster said, tweaking his sore jaw, wishing his hands were free so he could massage it.

He sighed and laughed again. Then laughed and laughed as the assault continued. This was nothing to him, nothing at all. Compared to these pathetic men Loki was a master torturer- and even he knew barely anything about how to do it properly.

To his surprise the men's tune did change, and on the next day. They flogged him until he bled, then returned him to his cell at night; or what Loki assumed was night. This went on for a week. This is... nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing.

The next week they did something different again. And this... Loki did not like. A rack. Truly? A rack? What are we, ancient Midgardians? It was... not pleasant. But I can take it. Nothing... it's nothing. But he still screamed and screamed, until he couldn't scream because he was afraid something might break if he made a noise. And then something did- all four limbs.

The rack they used three times, allowing Loki to rest for several days before beginning anew with his healed body.

He wasn't certain how many days had past since he was first introduced to the rack, but after a few days of recuperating from his third session with the dreaded device, the men brought Loki to the room, and there was nothing but a bucket filled with water.

The mischief god was confused for a moment, but only for a moment. His own words suddenly jumped out at him, 'A flogging, perhaps?' Could it be? 'The rack?' Loki shut his eyes tight as they dragged him to the murky water. No, no, no... He was forced to kneel, his hands chained behind his back. 'Drowning? Anything?'

Loki broke down on the first day. He had never feared water so much in his entire life. The primal need to breathe was so powerful that the idea of not breathing overwhelmed him. Still, it's nothing, nothing... I can... Yes, I can take- can take this.

The water wasn't icy cold, as he was expecting, but scalding hot. He couldn't tell if his face was melting off but it felt like it. By the amount of steam and the look of the water, Loki surmised that the water wasn't actually very hot, but it felt like it to him. How can they know? Had Odin told them? But of course he did, why wouldn't he?

And after that day, after Loki had mockingly suggested they get more creative... They did. Every few days or weeks he was greeted by a new kind of torture. The men still didn't speak and Loki could only scream at them; scream in anger and frustration and finally, fear and anguish.

Then one day, after months of torture and days of the same, excruciating session, one of the men, masked as the others, leaned down and whispered: "Perhaps you should watch what you say, hm, Silvertongue..?"

Loki never mocked them again after that.

.

Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton were here. Well, he assumed the archer was here, but of course he was. Didn't those two live for each other? Barton had told him so much, during his brief stint as his thrall, told him that, while they were not lovers, they cared for each other, deeply. At the time Loki couldn't help but be reminded of himself and Thor, and how they used to be, and it had made him angrier, more determined. Thor was not his brother, he had told himself. Oh how wrong he was; for who else but a brother would care for Loki so much after what he had done? He knew his punishments, though cruel, were deserved. He could only try and thank his brother, in any way possible, and be grateful- so, so grateful that Thor had decided to save him. I don't deserve this kindness...

After Thor had tried to reassure Loki of his devotion, he had attempted to get Loki to roam and explore some more, but the trickster no longer felt the want, his curiosity faded with the feel of the Black Widow's soft hair. Red, he remembered, like a dull fire that might be set ablaze if she looked at you for too long. In a lot of ways, she reminded him of Sif; not because she was a woman, that was the folly of ignorant fools, but because of her fierceness. Of Sif and the Warriors Three, it was she who Loki always feared angering too much. Like Thor, she was quick to anger and quicker to pull her blade, sharp and thin and challenging anyone to question her.

But Romanoff... She had that same fierceness, yes, but far more control, poise. And she used that image to every advantage she could take; against foe and friend alike, she was not to be trifled with. Loki had learned that the hard way when he underestimated her resolve, mistaking her for a weeping maiden- an amateur's mistake, he should have seen through it.

Knowing all this, Loki was certain she would do something to him. Perhaps not in front of Thor, and perhaps not for some time, but eventually, she would enact her vengeance for Loki's offense against her partner. Strangely, Loki welcomed it. He feared the retribution, yes, but he also knew that it was well-deserved. Thor would never allow them to kill him, Loki knew, but pain? Most likely. Loki would take it and then it would be over. Perhaps Barton would be the one to deliver justice, or perhaps the Widow would. Or... would they enact their plans separately? It didn't matter. It doesn't matter, he told himself. He would not fight- and truly, could he? -and it would be done and finished and Thor would still be here to comfort and get him through it.

Yes. He resolved to accept it and he did. Whatever happened, Thor was here. Here... He won't leave me... he- he won't. But Loki didn't know, didn't know if he would be. Please don't leave me. Don't leave me...

A/N: Fortunately, I've already written most of the next chapter, so hopefully I'll get it out sooner. Super sorry to anyone who's waiting for the ending of The Sanguine Wood but I've got some serious writer's block going on with that story, ugh.

Thank you to Mikkeneko for the idea about the mini-fridge in Thor's room! ;D Also, some things a few of you have been suggesting will be used next chapter. Until next time!