Disclaimer: I don't own.
Author's Note: Please enjoy! I'm not super comfortable posting this story because I'm new to the MCU, so if you have any criticism or compliments, I'd be happy to hear it. Story does not include or follow T:TDW or IM3. References to a Norse myth.
Warnings: depictions of violence, cursing.
"Whoever battles with monsters had better see that it does not turn him into a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
—Friedrich Nietzsche
There was something about the way the slim demigod held himself that put Tony on edge.
To the untrained eye, Loki was stiff and straight, his head held high and eyebrows arched condescendingly to match his confident gait. Thor's unrelenting grip on his elbow did little but make the bound Asgardian roll his eyes skyward dismissively.
...But even so, despite the normalcy of it all, Tony felt a chill dance along his spine from more than just the late autumn weather. There had been that odd little stumble over nothing noticeable — perhaps a ploy to escape or disarm, but it was so amateurish, Tony didn't think so, not when nothing happened from it. Thor simply tugged him closer, and Loki, his face always so unreadable in both battle and peace, didn't even twitch. Where had that gracelessness been when he'd been fighting and beaten into the floors by one angry green Hulk? When he'd surrendered?
In the dimming afternoon sunlight, the so-called God of Mischief (nothing very mischievous about murdering civilians or world domination, hn) looked pallid and scuffed, the injuries on his face redder than his brother's cape. It was when they were leisurely forming a circle around the two, watchful and alert as Dr. Selvig handed over the glowing, electric-blue tesseract, that Tony noticed the spasms. It lasted less than a second, one full-body tremble, his hooded eyes fixed on his leather boots instead of the circling heroes.
Internal injuries from his beating? That was the logical conclusion, but the way he hadn't seemed to care - nearly bored - in his tower, but now, of all times, seemed nervous... Whatever, not his problem.
Around them, guarding the perimeter, were SHIELD agents in classy business suits, expertly surrounding Central Park with straight backs and strategic angles. Not that they mattered, he already had JARVIS watching Central Park, and he trusted his AI more than any somewhat competent organization. It didn't matter that he was only wearing a stylish tuxedo with peaked lapels and was otherwise completely vulnerable. He could call his suit anytime. There was nothing to be afraid of.
Ultimately, the sendoff was a silent affair.
Thor was frowning, eyeing his younger brother stoically while Bag-Of-Cats just flatly stared back, the nervous ticks from before now completely gone, like they'd never even happened. Tony started to frown before he very deliberately shoved away any misgivings, crossing his arms and walking over to be beside Bruce instead. The mousy doctor gave him a surprised, unsure look, which he pointedly ignored.
The proceedings went smoothly, Thor nodding respectfully to them all while Loki held the other side of the tubed casing, silenced by the metal gag and as still as an ice sculpture. As the gods disappeared in an ethereal beam silver and blue, Tony was surprised to see Loki's eyes widen, his pale face washed in the blue flames but somehow still looking a bit off-balanced anyway. It was the string-tight tenseness of his posture, he considered.
The image stuck in his mind, poking at the edges of his mind like an unsolved mathematical equation, but then there was nothing before them, only a sphere of empty space and cooled air.
It was all finally over.
Tony breathed out slowly, uncrossing his arms and stepping back. He shook hands with Capsicle, saw off Romanoff and Barton with a dismissive nod, and beckoned Bruce over with a jaunty, not-taking-no-for-an-answer wave. The other scientist seemed as relieved as he was that everything was over and done with, smiling over at him and leaning back against the creamy-tan leather seats and chatting amiably.
They arrived back at the damaged Tower, the single A from STARK aglow in the darkening light. Construction was already underway.
"Make yourself at home," he told Bruce, showing him which floors he was welcome to take (to which Bruce replied ineffectively, "I just want a room, Tony, a single room," but, well, semantics).
It wasn't until he was finally alone and in his lab tinkering with his suit, polishing away the bangs and nicks, that his brain connected the odd nervousness to a certain sense of fear. For a god with that good of a poker face, he was either intensely frightened...of something... or it was a trick (to gain sympathy, from them? Unlikely).
Tony pursed his lips and let it go. Not his issue, not anymore.
He needed a drink. Today had been a long day. He finished with his suit and then made a beeline for the bar, pouring himself some scotch, the amber liquid a burning, scorching feeling down his throat. In the end, he took his glass and made to search for Bruce, wanting to talk science and not stop, not until the sun set and the moon rose high and bright in the sky.
It felt the end of a chapter, and one he was happy to close. He never wanted to see Loki ever again.
…o0o…
It was a measly three months later when Thor crashed down on the roof of the newly named Avengers Tower, bringing with him crashing thunderclouds and jagged shots of electricity that made the air smell of burning ozone and traces of sulfur. Only moments ago the sun had been out, shimmering golden and bright over the busy city.
Now, rain mercilessly pelted the ground, and the lighting hissed scornfully loud.
Tony and Bruce had shared a look, wide-eyed and caught off guard, before they were hurriedly taking the elevator to the roof with little more than a nervous curse and a wary look at the storming weather.
This didn't seem good.
Why couldn't this have been a friendly visit? It was never friendly visits.
Standing before them, drenched from the rain and illuminated only by the shots of lightning and the silvery glow from the tower's emergency lights, was a severe-faced Thor. His mouth was dipped in a sharp scowl that looked fully out of place; Tony was used to the big guy's large, amicable grin, and the scowl just looked... wrong. The god's blond hair was stringy, matted against his wet face, the rain splattering off him uncaringly. His red cape was billowing in the strong winds, but the God of Thunder only seemed to give notice to the two of them, his eyes alight.
Bruce frowned and exchanged a worried glance with the inventor. Tony attempted a dismissive smile, approaching the other without a care in the world.
"Hey, Point Break! You having girl troubles? That's no reason to ruin everyone's picnics."
Thor blinked, his tense expression easing, and he seemed to unwind at the friendly, casual words. The lines on his face did not disappear. however. "Nay, Man of Iron. I have grave news."
He looked like he was going to say more but Tony interrupted importantly, shielding his eyes from the rain, "Let's talk inside, buddy."
They lumbered into the elevator, with squelching water and squeaky boots. Tony grimaced at the forming puddle, but didn't say anything as the elevator dinged open on floor 76. He marched to the bar without waiting for either of them, immediately shuffling around for something stronger than whiskey.
Bruce sent him an unhappy look that almost made the billionaire put the bottle of vodka back. Almost. Thor's bad news had to be bad-bad if the Avenger was still looking like someone had drowned his favorite puppy and then asked him to bury it himself.
Ugh, that was more morbid than he wanted. He liked puppies. He took a shot, swallowing the alcoholic punch with little more than a wince. He took another just to be safe before surveying the tall, red-clad demigod across the room. Water was still dripping onto his floor, the end of his cape being soaked in the puddle.
Tony stared at him, pointedly. Off to the side, his back to the dark, stormy windows, Bruce shifted his feet, his eyes concerned and anxious. Neither wanted to broach the subject, but the waiting was almost worse.
Bruce was the first to cave. Tony took another shot. "Thor, what happened? Is everything okay with Jane, Asgard?"
Tony swallowed loudly. He leaned forward, holding his drink tightly. If this was as big a threat as last time, they needed to call for help. "Should I call Capsicle and the others?"
Thor shook his head before he stopped and looked away. "I know not, friends. But I do know this, Loki has escaped punishment. Heimdall cannot see him, but there may be reason to think he has fled to Midgard."
Bruce nodded and made his way over to Tony's side. His face had adopted an alarming greenish hue. Tony wordlessly poured him a generous amount of alcohol and slid the glass over, but he shook his head, clutching the counter with pale, taut fingers.
"Why Earth?" Tony wondered, pulling his thoughts back into some semblance of order. "He didn't exactly leave on friendly terms the last time he was here."
Thor smiled tightly. He finally moved toward the coach, his cape brushing against the ground and leaving a wet trail of slippery shine in his wake. He was shaking his head, "Loki would have needed to use a lot of magic to combat the Allfather's binding. When Loki and I returned to Asgard, he was chained with runes spelled to cancel his magical energy. My father himself performed the ritual."
There was something in Thor's voice - thready, worn, upset - that made Tony and Bruce toss each other frowns from behind Thor's back.
The blond continued, "Only recently freed from such an enchantment, he would not have had the strength to realm hop as easily as before. He will appear in the worlds for which he most recently visited, as it requires less energy."
"Okay, I'm following," Tony said.
Bruce asked, almost hopefully, surprised and relieved by how much Thor seemed to know, "So how do we find him?"
"It will not be easy," Thor said, almost single-handedly dashing the room's hopes that this wouldn't turn out like three/four months ago, "Teleportation magic is harder than his illusions. He will have less difficulty disguising his appearance. He will be hidden well."
"But not impossible to find," Tony reasoned, raising his glass to Thor for emphasis. The demigod looked unsure. "You said he was weakened."
"Ay, Man of Iron, I did." Thor unhooked his cape before he sat himself down on the coach and nodded at Tony's request to call him by his first name. Tony and Bruce joined him; the billionaire brought his glass with him, and Bruce gave him another look, which he steadfastly ignored. He got enough of that from Pepper, thank you very much.
The two watched as Thor wrung out the cherry-red fabric, the water splashing on the ground, and calmly folded it into thirds.
"My floor," Tony muttered halfheartedly, but it wasn't like he hadn't done worse.
"Jane is well though," the God of Thunder interjected, trying a smile. His face had softened, fond and gentle. "And Asgard faces no immediate threat."
Bruce smiled warmly at Thor, no longer on the cusps of a green transformation, his skin a welcoming, healthy pink. Tony looked away from the two, wondering. Unbidden, Loki's pale face in the wash of blue light came to mind, along with the stumbling, the tremors, the tense tightness.
Against his better judgment, and to which he'd blame the alcohol if it turned out to only make things worse, he asked, "Thor, do you know what Loki's punishment was?"
Thor blinked and tilted his head. Some color had returned to his face, softening the dark smudges under his eyes. "Why do you ask, my friend?"
Bruce looked over curiously, caught off guard by the question that didn't actually seem to matter. But for some reason, to him, it did. Seem to matter, that is. "Reindeer Games didn't look too happy to be goin' back home. He looked terrible," he explained vaguely.
Bruce raised an eyebrow at the odd line of thought. "He was just defeated, Tony."
Tony opened his mouth, but then Thor was answering instead, nodding, "Tony is correct."
"That's a first," Bruce mumbled under his breath, and wow, rude.
Tony fake-scowled and smacked the back of the doctor's head, a little bit proud of the fact that Bruce just rolled his eyes, shifting a step away. Before, any kind of casual physical contact was always neatly avoided or met with wide, concerned eyes, like he thought he'd turn at the slightest provocation, good will or no. "Don't be mean," he lectured, warming up to the easy banter, "This is my house. You have to be nice to me."
Before Banner could answer, his smile soft along the edges and his eyes curved mischievously, Thor interrupted with, "I do know what Loki's punishment was, and Loki must have also known too while we were still on Midgard. He is well versed in Asgardian justice."
Was it just him or did that sound almost accusing, and saddened?
"Well?" he stressed when the demigod didn't say anything. Bruce sent him a quelling look, which he ignored to stare up at the big guy.
Thor was looking increasingly uncomfortable, his eyes downturned and the slight smile from before now washed away, like it only been an afterimage after all, there and then not. It took Tony five seconds longer than Bruce to recognize the shifting look as guilt.
"There are two stages of his punishment. Because he was never tried for his crimes on Asgard, the Allfather sentenced him twice over."
The blond, blue-eyed god made to continue but Bruce narrowed his eyes, waving a hand to stall the start of a rambling explanation. He questioned slowly, "What did you do?"
Thor's eyes adopted a glossy sheen. Bruce almost felt bad for asking until the thunder god said, void of emotions, "His lips were sewn shut."
Tony choked on air, making a gurgling mewling sound. That... that was not what he'd expected. Sure, maybe a beating, maybe a few punches borne from rage and horror, but then that should be it. The criminal justice system shouldn't condone abuse, torture. Bruce's eyes widened, a hand over his mouth. The tip of his ears were tinted green, before he sucked in a deep breath and then release it, slowly.
Tony stepped away, wishing he hadn't finished off his drink. He pondered refilling it, despite their imminent manhunt.
His lips sewn shut. What the fuck.
"What was the second part, Thor?" Bruce asked seriously, his hands clenching and unclenching. Oh what the hell, they wouldn't find Loki in this storm anyway. He took the entire bottle with him, throwing back the stinging liquid and welcoming the cushioning blur that fogged up all the sharp edges in the room.
Thor tracked Tony's motions before looking back to Bruce, not hiding anymore. "Son of Banner, it is Asgardian custom to treat criminals in such a way. It is our way."
"That's torture, Thor."
"Not okay," Tony pitched in from behind the counter, waving a hand at him. Bruce worriedly glanced over but Tony ignored him. "Not okay."
Thor bit his lip. It almost seemed like he wanted to agree, but there was something, some really big thing, holding him back from defending Loki. Didn't he say something about the Allfather ordering this?
"What was the second part?" the scientist pushed again, deadly flat.
Thor sniffled, scrubbing a hand over his eyes, and Tony and Bruce softened slightly at the show of emotion, of regret, even if it seemed Thor was still coming to terms with the acceptability of Asgardian justice (or lack thereof).
"We don't blame you for this, Thor," Banner said, a sigh in his voice. He didn't look at Tony when he emphasized, clearly, "But we also don't condone torture, no matter who the recipient is. What was the second phase?"
"To be locked away in dungeons with no personal contact. Mother was forbidden to see him, as was I. He would have been with the other common criminals, and left to his own devices."
"No princely treatment?" Tony snarked, just because he could. His shoulders felt weighed down by bricks. He needed another drink, something stronger...
Though the question was rhetorical, it made the hunched, guilty look worsen. Thor revealed quietly, "My father renounced his lineage."
Tony understood what he meant the same time Bruce buried his head in his hands and groaned. "He was disowned."
"Fuck."
Thor nodded and closed his eyes, blocking out the world for a brief moment of escape. Tony left his bottle on the counter, walking over to Bruce, and he was glad he didn't stumble; his head felt like it was under water, his hearing muffled and bubbling, "It's late. We'll search for him in the morning." He clapped a hand on Thor's shoulder, not looking at him, "Feel free to grab a floor for the night. You're an Avenger, this is your home too."
"Thank you."
"And Thor? I'll help you find Loki, but after that, I make no promises."
Bruce added, quietly, supportively, "Me too."
Thor's grin was broken in the middle. "Thank you, Tony. And you, Bruce. Your kindness is most generous."
Tony waved him off, saying something along the lines of 'goodnight' or 'goodbye,' and disappeared from view within minutes. Bruce nodded politely and offered to help Thor get settled in, to which the demigod kindly refused, and so the good doctor left to get some sleep. Thor was left staring out the window, deep in thought.
"Oh, Loki. Of all the tricks you retain, it is your cloaking magic." Thor rubbed his face, tears welling up but not falling. "I wish you no harm, but father knows what is best, for you and for Asgard. You must return hom—to Asgard..."
He wished he could actually believe that; picturing Loki's gaunt, haunted face clearly, the mossy-green eyes imploring Thor to help and stop, and please no. The cries echoed in his mind, blood that dripped on the tile floor in a rhythmic song, macabre and ghastly.
For the good of Asgard. For your redemption. For justice.
Loki was always the liar, so why did the Allfather sound just like him when the punishment was declared and delivered without a semblance of remorse.
Rain pelted the windows and lighting continued to flash outside. He didn't sleep at all.
…o0o…
The next morning, Bruce found Tony sitting on the couch in the living room, an electric-blue holographic image printed in 3D above the rug detailing math equations and diagrams. As this was a common occurrence in the tower, the doctor simply made a beeline to the waffle iron in the kitchen and turned it on. Might as well add some pop-tarts in the toaster for Thor too, he had liked the strawberry ones last time.
"I have JARVIS running facial recognition scans with the cameras in all of New York and there have been a few matches. I think we should check out those first."
Bruce hummed in agreement, pulling batter out from the fridge and sheeting it in uneven blobs over the iron. It'd be evened out with the heat. When the timer was set, he turned to look at Tony. The billionaire had grease smears over his cheeks, most likely from a night in the lab, and red eyes. Sleep deprived and stressed out, Bruce reasoned, and also crying.
"Have you seen Pepper since last week?"
Tony shook his head. "She has a meeting in D.C. until the end of the month."
"Hmm."
"Why?"
"I was just wondering. Oh! Good morning, Thor. Would you like some waffles, pop-tarts?"
Thor didn't look like he was fairing any better than Tony. His cheeks were blotchy and eyes unable to stay on one thing for very long. He had changed out of his armor and was in a tight-fitting ACDC shirt and jeans. The man shook his head, his mouth in a flat line. He dropped into the kitchen chair silently.
Tony looked over at him with a ghosting smile, getting up from the couch to join the two of them. "I like your socks, Hammer Time."
Bruce straightened his back and then scoffed, his lips twitching. He understood why Tony liked them. Thor wiggled his toes and the Iron Man faces seemed to wink back at them.
"You are the most narcissistic man I've ever met."
"Thank you, Brucey!"
Bruce turned around to stack his waffle onto a large white plate, hiding his smile. Then, as his mind drifted back to the distressing matters at hand, his smile slowly fell and he said, turning around with more batter filled in the iron, "I was thinking about Loki last night and the battle of New York."
Tony froze and Thor blinked tiredly at him. Taking that as silent support, Bruce continued. "What color were his eyes?"
Thor slanted his head. "My brother has green eyes." It was the unhidden confusion that made Bruce start to nod more emphatically, a gleam appearing in his eyes. Tony noted absently that that was the first time since he had been back that he had referred to Loki as his brother.
Bruce was starting to look surer of himself. "No, they were blue. I remember watching the footage of Loki in the Other Guy's cage. They were blue."
Thor was stubborn, shaking his head. "Nay, my brother's eyes are green. I had always thought it unusual when I was child, because my mother and father, as do I, have blue eyes. I now know why, but Loki has never had blue eyes."
Right. Adopted. There was more to that story, but they could save that for later.
Tony spun on his chair. "JARVIS, pull up all footage of Loki available, even SHIELD files, and zoom in on his eyes."
JARVIS answered, soothingly efficient, "Of course, sir."
Screens pulled up at Tony's gesture and images flew through them as the trio stared. Loki at the SHEILD base. Loki in Stuttgart. Loki in the helicarrier. Loki in Avengers Tower.
"Pause," Tony ordered.
The image flickered to a stand. It was after Loki had been smashed into the ground by the Hulk like a ragdoll. His eyes were an unusual mix of blue and green, pixelated but still clearly colored.
"Didn't Natasha say something about cognitive recalibration?"
"Shit."
"I do not understand what you are implying. Speak clearly. Are you saying my brother was mind controlled during the invasion?"
"No," Bruce answered calmly, a glow to his face as the data started to support his hypothesis, "we're saying that he wasn't in complete control. He was in and out of it, but I think he always had more control than a simple puppet, unlike with Clint."
"I'm not even sure about that," Tony interrupted, turning to them almost enthusiastically. "At the base, Clint shot Fury. Probably on Loki's orders, right?"
"Yes."
"It would appear so."
Tony smiled, and it was sharp and smug. "Then why did he shoot the chest? Clint is a good aim. He would have known - and had the ability - to shoot to kill. He could have hit Fury in the head, but he didn't. He shot him where a bulletproof vest cushioned the impact."
Thor was slowly brightening. "So Loki was in control, but only so much? The Chitauri were controlling him?"
Bruce shook his head. "I don't think it was the Chitauri."
Tony clapped excitedly, his smile giddy. "Exactly! There needs to be someone higher on this scale. Someone controlling Loki, who would then in turn direct the Chitauri. They didn't seem too smart, had almost no strategy. Used just as brute force. A pawn. It would make sense."
"Do you truly believe this, friends? Or is this trickery to make me feel better?" There was a timeworn, desperate tint to the words, like he hadn't dared to hope.
"We're not lying, buddy."
"Then you have my respect, and my allegiance."
Bruce piled up his large stack of waffles and set it in front of the two, waving at it generously. "Tony was telling me about some of the matches he got of possible hits."
Thor stabbed a few waffles over to his plate and took the offered pop-tarts with a sheepish chuckle. "Then today we will begin our search?"
Tony was busy pouring a flood of maple syrup over his breakfast so Bruce nodded for him.
"Would you like some waffles with that syrup," he snarked. Tony sent him an unappreciative look over his food. Bruce smiled brightly back.
When the three finally finished their breakfast, they pushed off from the table and set out.
"JARVIS, scan SHIELD's files on the Chitauri. Maybe they missed something, if they haven't considered a ranking system, someone above Loki..." he trailed off, thinking, wondering.
Then Tony was becoming Iron Man, gold and red and gleaming, shiny metal bright in the midmorning sunlight. Thor took to the sky, changing back into his armor and bolting upward in a physics-defying leap. And Bruce, he found his motorcycle, aiming to take the more subtle approach than the flashy, flying men/demigods. They had a loose (maybe-)supervillain to catch.
…o0o…
Iron Man decided half-way to his given location that the three of them splitting up to check possible targets in full regalia was a dumb idea, and he should probably follow Bruce's lead and do this the old fashioned way. Landing in an alleyway, as quiet as the wind through the trees, Tony touched down and disassembled his suit. He sent it back to the tower with a snap of his wrist.
Donning sunglasses in the cool air, the smell of rain still lingering, Tony sauntered into the busy streets of New York, joining into the crowd of quick-walking pedestrians.
JARVIS helpfully scanned the faces in the crowd, text scrolling down over his glasses, focusing and running a data dump on people with a criminal record, or suspects in cases, or any type of SHIELD activity, be it good-guys or bad-guys. There were some people in passing that made Tony stare a bit closer before he remembered Loki's height or his hair color or his size. But wait... could Loki shapeshift? What had Thor said again? He probably should have reviewed with Bruce and Thor before splitting up.
After a few more blocks of nothing but the stink of car exhaust and grumbling New Yorkers, pushy and unending, Tony ducked into a café. He called Thor and Bruce on his cellphone, like a normal person. He was undercover, right?
Bruce answered on the second ring and succinctly informed him that there was no progress on his end. Thor, who took three times as long to reach and using one of Tony's borrowed phones, replied in as much of a booming voice as ever that no wild Loki had been spotted (Tony's words). He was also unhelpfully vague about Loki's magical capabilities, dismissing them as tricks, that which only cowards or women studied, so no, he didn't know how much or what else Loki could do. Helpful, and he could do without the baseless misogyny, but whatever.
JARVIS only had so many matches in the city. Did this mean they were going to need to expand their search parameters? To the world? Yikes.
His phone ringing pulled him out of his thoughts, and he glanced at the caller ID curiously, almost thankful for the distraction.
Capsicle?
Tony let it go to voicemail, and then waited another two full rings before accepting the second call.
"Stark! Pick up the damn phone!" was the grumbling greeting he got.
Tony clucked into the speaker, a smile rising to his face, unbidden. "Language, Cap! What about those adorable, impressionable children that might hear you! You don't want to dishonor their innocence."
"That didn't make any sense," Rogers dismissed, almost in startled bemusement, before he soldiered on admirably, "And I don't have time for this." Now that Tony was listening for it, the Captain's voice sounded rushed and anxious over the phone, warbling and hitching. Tony kindly swallowed his comeback. "There's an emergency. I need you, and is Banner there? I need you and Banner to stop by my apartment. NOW."
Tony found his tongue, both peeved by the uncompromising command (no one commands him, okay) and worried about what would make the good ol' boy act like he was steps away from doing something he'd regret in the morning. And an emergency was an emergency, especially coming from Captain America. "We'll be there in ten. Thor's here too. You need him?"
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Thor's here?"
Sometimes, Tony forgets that Steve was in the army. His glossy public image really masks the dirty bits, huh. "Yeah."
"No, don't bring Thor. And I need to know that Banner won't Hulk. Make sure you're both calm when you come in, okay? I need to go; I'll explain more in person. Bye."
Tony listened to the dead tone for a few blank seconds before he shook himself back to the matter at hand. Emergency. Steve. Unknown variables, which Thor couldn't see or meet. Whatever was making Steve upset sounded serious, so he did what was asked, calling Bruce and making sure to leave Thor where he was, searching loose ends JARVIS found that no one had much hope for.
Neither scientist knew what to expect.
…o0o…
When Tony pushed the open door, the squeaking of the hinges made his spine tingle. Even though the sun was shining on his back, orange and heady, and the good captain's lights were on, the apartment had a cold, chilly feeling of something ominous. Bruce shivered next to him.
"Why is it so cold in here?" Bruce wondered, brushing past Tony and taking the lead. Oh. It was actually cold.
Bruce walked into Steve's room, calling his name, and Tony followed after his steps. So when Banner stopped suddenly, stumbling back with a large gasp, Tony almost tripped as he tried to sidestep the sudden backwards motion.
"What? What's wrong?"
Bruce rushed out of the room, holding his hands to his mouth. Tony watched him go with a wide-eyed expression before looking into the room. His friend's reaction should have prepared him for the sight but it didn't. He could almost feel the vomit rise in his throat.
Steve glared at him and said something, mouthed something, that Tony would have - should have - understood if his vision didn't decide to go shaky right at that moment.
There was so much blood. So much blood. It was on Steve's hand. It was on the floor. It was on the bed. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Tony felt his chest constrict, and he couldn't breathe.
Warm arms engulfed him, restricting some of the flow of oxygen and reminded Tony to think, to slow down, and Tony remembered how to breathe again. He looked up and stared into Steve's too-blue eyes. The soldier breathed out a loud sigh of relief when Tony blinked, and his shoulder's relaxed, no longer hiked and scrunched. With worry. Huh, how 'bout that.
"Are you okay? Where is Banner?"
"I'm... I'm… Banner ran to the bathroom, I think," he managed, answering the easier question and ignoring the harder one. Rogers didn't call him on it, nodding like he understood.
Rogers... Steve... scrubbed a hand over his face, digging his palms into his eyes. When he opened them to look over at Tony they were clear but glassy and pink-rimmed. He was no better off than them, and Tony was unfairly thankful they were all in this B-rated horror movie together. "I'm sorry I called you, but I didn't know what to do, but then I remembered that Banner had been acting as a doctor before he came to New York so I thought he might be able to help. I don't... I can't... The army only taught us so much first aid."
Tony nodded. He knew that the hospital and SHIELD were out of the question. Steve had done well, actually, to keep it contained to as little people as possible. It seemed like only the three of them knew about this. Good, good. "The blood," he managed to ask, swallowing. "It's all his?"
Steve nodded, his face twitching, mouth pinched. "Yeah, I… I'll tell you when Banner feels better. I'm going to go check on him, make sure he's okay in there. Loki's been out of it the entire time, so I don't think he'll wake up... but if he does..."
The warning was clear. Even with all those injuries, a trapped, caged animal was still an animal. He might be dying, but that probably wouldn't stop him from clawing his way free, even though they were going to help him.
Tony nodded, his breathing still erratic. He avoided looking at the slim figure on the bed, limbs twisted at odd angles and blood smeared over the cushions like morbid, ruby-red splashes of modern, minimalistic versions of abstract art, vibrant against the drab of the grey cushions.
Steve pat Tony's shoulder, a gesture that shouldn't have comforted the inventor as much as it did, and disappeared to find Bruce and hopefully not the beginning struggles of an emerging Hulk.
After controlling his breathing and pinching himself a couple of times, Tony gathered up the courage to move. He stood at the base of the bed, looking at the tangle of dark, stringy black hair instead of the red, red, red.
But then, when Loki made a pitiful groan, shifting (and shit, hadn't Steve said he'd be out of it? Just his luck) Tony froze, against his will. Fight or flight, his ass. There was freeze in there somewhere too. Unbidden, and entirely uselessly, images from his past... the torture, the betrayal, flashed through his mind, running alongside the feeling of being thrown out a window and gravity being strong, pulling, grabbing before had JARVIS kicked in and he was flying again, in control.
Then Loki started to cough. Except his lips were still sewn shut.
Oh, god. Thor hadn't said they didn't take it off. That's disgusting.
It took him another second to realize he needed to do something and not just stand there like an idiot. Loki hacked again, his eyelids fluttering wildly.
"Loki, Loki, I need you to listen to me," Tony said, slowly, keeping his voice even and walking around the side and to the head of the bed. There was a lamp there, and he wondered if he could hit the demigod with it if he tried to kill him again.
At once, with no warning whatsoever, Loki shot up. Their eyes met - a flash of misty green against pale, washed out skin - and then the demigod was thrashing at the sheets, his legs tangled against the thin fabric, caught in an unintended net as he tried to move, quickly, and as far away as possible. Tony quickly raised his hands, showing off his lack of weapons, and hoped the frantic motion would stop, because the blood was getting everywhere now and it had to be hurting him too and it was just so red.
"Hey, hey, cool it. We're not- I'm not going to hurt you. Stop, just, hold on a second here, Reindeer Games."
Loki stilled, and Tony was at first too thankful to feel surprised by the obedience. That came later. His eyes, his green (green!) eyes, stared straight up at the ceiling of Steve's room. He was so pale, which made the blue bruising around his lips and over his wrists starkly vibrant in contrast. Disturbing brushes of paint across a white canvas, mottled bruises both fresh and old, faded into yellows and deep violets.
Ouch.
Tony swallowed and twisted his hands together, a habit he picked up from Bruce after spending too much time together in the R and D labs. "I owe you that drink. You better not die before I can you hold to it."
Loki's eyelids fluttered, his mouth twitching against the threads before a spasm of visible pain traveled through his spine, and Tony moved a little closer, reaching out a hand to help, needing to do something. It was the wrong move. Loki gathered himself, straightening into his tall form, dwarfed only because of his sitting position on the bed, and his limbs trembled as he held them out in front of him defensively.
Then, to Tony's confusion, the demi-god closed his eyes with an inaudible hiss, and his hands, shaking uncontrollably, fell back into his lap, and he slumped over his lap, like his strings had been cut. it was creepy.
There was that acceptance again. But acceptance of defeat or punishment?
Tony sucked in a deep breath of air and held onto it. With gentle movements, he crawled onto the bed beside Loki, careful not to touch or agitate him. He didn't know what to do, other than be there. He wasn't going to leave him alone, no matter how much his survival instincts yelled at him to. That haunted gaze was too familiar.
And, as luck would have it, Steve and a very human Bruce were already making their way into the room. "He's awake," Steve observed, pointlessly.
Loki stared them like they were the oddity here, and he wasn't the alien invader to their home world.
Bruce ignored all of them with newfound grace, approaching Loki's side of the bed slowly and carefully. The demigod watched his approach hawkishly, his eyebrows pulled together.
"That doesn't look good," Bruce muttered under his breath, barely audible, but the Trickster's eyes narrowed anyway. "I'm going to check over you, okay, Loki? You might have some broken ribs, broken bones? I'll need antiseptics, and some other supplies, fabric scissors... but then I can also take out the... uh, stitches. Is that okay with you?"
The room was quiet, a held breath of anticipation and worry. Loki looked even more confused as they waited for his confirmation, his eyes traveling between them untrustingly. Then he was looking back to Bruce, kind, sincere, compassionate Bruce, and he was nodding slowly, his bruised face an emotionless mask. After setting the six ribs and two bones, the demigod barely more than an uncomfortable wheezing sound, Bruce said softly, "One more, okay? Hang in there," and he popped the bone back into place, his hands steady.
It seemed the idea of an end, of finally being done, was enough for Loki's battered body if not his mind, he slumped into the cushions, passed out cold.
Tony followed the two outside, waiting for Bruce to wash up in the bathroom before turning into the kitchen. Bruce offered to sit closest to the door so he could be the one to react when Loki awoke, in case something went wrong. He still needed to take that god-forsaken thread out too.
"Explain," Tony ordered when everyone was sitting around the table with muffins in front of them. Of course Steve would still be a good host, even now. "How did... what did..."
Luckily, Steve understood him anyway.
"I was running this morning after the rain started to let up. Something about the weather yesterday made me anxious, and I was itching to go outside; I guess that was because of Thor, in hindsight. So I was running through Central Park, and... I don't know, I just decided to take my break near where we sent Thor and Loki off a few months ago. I can't explain it."
Tony looked skeptical at the coincidence, but Bruce was nodding supportively, so he let it go for now.
Steve swallowed and looked away. This was the harder part. "So I walked over there and nothing unusual happened, I felt kind of dumb for thinking otherwise, to be honest, so then I just continued on my jog. But I looped back on my way home, and there was this.. shadow, behind a tree. You could only see it if you were standing where we had been, I think. And well, I checked it out. Saw it was Loki. Saw the... injuries," he said delicately, "And called you as soon as I got back."
Steve sighed tiredly. Bruce leaned over to awkwardly, but kindly, pat his shoulder.
Tony looked out the window and rubbed his arms in an effort to warm himself. Why was it so cold? Explain that, Cap, hm. "Then what?"
"That's it. He was out of it, didn't respond to me at all." His eyes, so big and kind, turned to each of them. "What should we do? What happened to him? He was mumbling about Thor."
It didn't take a genius to realize it wasn't good, happy things he was talking about. Thor, you idiot, and your horrible, horrible Allfather. Loki trumps them all for the Biggest Daddy Issues award.
Bruce nodded, strategically choosing to answer the lesser landmine, "Thank you for calling us. I'm sorry, Captain, but I don't think we'll be able to move him as I work on the stitches. He's too weak, and he needs a flat surface to lay on. Do you have another bed you can sleep in?"
Steve smiled in relief at the acceptance of continued help. They weren't just going to abandon him with all the responsibility. "I can sleep on the couch. There are two guest beds that you two are welcome to take." Steve wasn't one easily deterred though, and he predictably continued with, "Did Thor tell you? That Loki was back?"
The scientists glanced at each other. "Long story short, his lips getting sewn shut was punishment number one, and punishment number two - being put in isolation, cut off from magic - was avoided only by his escape to Earth. Thor is here to collect Skinny in there to take back to Asgard."
"No!" Steve pushed back his chair and fists his hands in front of him protectively. He looked ready to fight, but with a sort of pleading expression that he wouldn't need to. "I will not let either of you return Loki to Asgard if that is what happened. That's torture."
"We're with you, Capsicle, don't worry."
Steve assessed the two of them before he nodded, once, and sat back down. "Did they also beat him to a bloody pulp in Asgard? Those bruises look both old and new."
"That's not what Thor said," Tony admitted, adding a little unhappily, "But he might not know if they did."
After Bruce collected the first aid supplies he'd need, the three crowded into the room. Steve hovered by the door, and Tony took up a spot in the corner, wanted to stay but also feeling more squeamish than he was comfortable admitting to.
Loki was sleeping peacefully, his face smooth and chest rising and falling in waves. Steve made a waving motion and Bruce took to Loki's side, running his fingers over the papery skin and checking for a steady pulse. He nodded, satisfied, and Tony unwound just a little bit, and wasn't that odd.
"Y'know," Bruce was saying, barely above a whisper, "Some of his broken bones, the hairline fractures, they felt dislocated but then reset, only wrong, almost... purposefully."
"That's a big accusation there, buddy," Tony felt obligated to point out. Bruce shrugged, uncaring.
"I'm just saying what I see," he said.
"Do you think that was on Asgard?" Steve asked, taking the scientist at his word. Bruce looked a bit flattered by the trust, but then he was shrugging his shoulders, an unhappy twist to his lips. "Thor didn't mention it, if it's true."
Tony suddenly flailed forward, something coming together, foggy pieces of puzzle clipped together, interwoven and seamless. "JARVIS, what did you find?" he asked into his earpiece, and then JARVIS was answering him, the steady, factual information a cool balm to the sticky, hot feeling in his palms.
"Redacted records from Agent Barton, listed under Agent 057, detail moments when Loki Laufeyson was contacting an ally for hours at a time. Though the meetings remained anonymous and connected through magic, Loki Laufeyson would reemerge stumbling, and unbalanced - physically and mentally - at its conclusion. Agent Barton describes the encounter as though, quote, He got smacked around by air, like a broken toy, unquote."
"Okay," Tony breathed, thinking that was another piece that fit into his theory, and then JARVIS was adding, "Agent Barton also speculated on sharing visions with Loki Laufeyson during the mental connection, as he would remember dreams of purple fists, a sprinkling of dim, spread-out starlight, and tumbling words that echoed beyond his nightmare and into the waking world: (quote) if you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you (unquote)."
"Creepy," Tony couldn't help saying, and both Steve and Bruce gave him a curious look, the doctor pausing before snipping off a thread sturdier than it had any right to be.
Tony suddenly looked excited, the quote replaying in the back of his mind. This was their smoking gun, and it would take a fool to dismiss it. "Rogers, Loki wasn't in control of the invasion on New York," he was distantly aware he was babbling, but he wanted to catch Steve up to speed right now, "He was mind controlled kinda like Clint was but with more or less control if you want to include the Tesseract's own power over him. He had blue eyes when he normally has green, JARVIS can show you later. But that doesn't matter right now."
"Doesn't matter right—?"
"Yeah, not now. These beating that Bruce found that Thor never mentioned? That's unusual. But there is something about them that implies more than punishment. Like revenge. Like torture for fun. The guy above Loki must not be very happy about his army's defeat, leaving Loki to take the fallout for the failure."
"But he was in Asgard. How did they get him?"
"He 'escaped' didn't he?" Tony used air quotes, his smile growing wider as the puzzle unraveled piece by piece and it started to make sense. "They must have captured him and staged it like an escape. Except Loki actually did end up escaping for real this time, against the people, or aliens, whatever, who are really to blame. It makes so much sense."
"That does make sense, Stark, but how...?
Tony shook his head, the realization making him giddy. "I'll have JARVIS show you later. You'll see what I see, I know it."
Bruce waited until the inventor sobered up, drunk with the new theory, before he said too casually, "We should tell Thor."
Steve looked uncomfortable but he was still nodding in agreement anyway. "I agree. He should know. I doubt after we tell him this, he'll still want to bring him back to Asgard."
…o0o…
"He must return to Asgard immediately."
"Think about this, buddy. You're making the wrong decision." Tony ducked in front of the god and held up his hands in a plea for patience. "Loki looks like shit, you can't just-!"
"That was his punishment, Man of Iron."
"I'm not just talking about the sewing thing, which we will talk about later. I'm talking about every-fucking-thing."
Thor pushed passed Tony and ignored the heavy groan from behind him as the billionaire hit the side of the doorframe. Steve curved around his companion and walked quickly to Thor's side. The god looked at him sideways but continued his heavy walk through the apartment.
"Thor, please think about what you are doing," the soldier begged. Thor paused and the two blue-eyed men stared at each other. "Loki is hurt. Goddamnit, he was tortured. And that is not okay, no matter where you're from."
Thor shifted but he didn't let go of Mjölnir. If anything, his grip on the weighted hammer tightened. "The Allfather has decreed Loki's punishment just and he is to return home." Thor glared at Steve. "Do not attempt to stop me, soldier."
"You father can be wrong," Bruce chimed in. He was leaning against the bathroom door and looking at the two blonds through half-narrowed eyes. He didn't look like was going to Hulk out, but no one could ever be too sure.
Thor's expression turned stormy at the words. His mouth pursed and eyes glowed menacingly. "I do not wish harm upon my brother, friends. But my father is a wise and noble king. He would not make such a dire mistake, especially not... It matters not, Loki is not your concern, he is Asgard's."
Thor stomped passed Bruce. He had finally found the right door. Before the other three Avengers could stop him, the god kicked the bedroom door open. The wood swung on its hinges, squeaking. Thor looked inside with a heavy heart.
"Brother, I am sorry," he said before approaching the bed.
Tony stumbled around the god and threw up his hands in a last ditch effort. "No!"
It was of little consequence to Thor.
"Though you are a strong warrior, Man of Iron, you are a mortal. You will not be able to win against me, especially unarmed." Thor flexed his fingers and his stance grounded in preparation.
"Listen to me, Thor. Listen. Your brother is hurt. And he didn't even do the crimes you are going to punish him for," Tony gave a dry chuckle, he couldn't help it. "If anything, he was punished enough already. You need to let Reindeer Games give his side of the story."
Steve walked beside the billionaire and crossed his arms, his spine straight. His stare was hard, and unyielding. "Loki isn't going back to Asgard."
Thor looked to Bruce, who shrugged and made his way over to the other two. "I'm with them. I can show you the diagnoses if you'd like. He's in zero shape to travel."
The doctor's clinical response seemed to calm the thunder god, but he still looked unsure. "I… will see if my brother is fit to be taken back," he relented. A half win.
Without waiting for their permission, Thor was by Loki's bedside. To his surprise, the raven-haired god was awake. His eyes were taking over his face as the irises flicked anxiously between the four men. The stitches over his lips were gone and there was a thin gauze over his lips, which Bruce must have just recently dressed. The sheets were crumpled up in his brother's hands, slim fingers shaking, and the demigod's breathing was erratic.
He was also blue.
...Uh. What?
Seeing the Jötun side of Loki made something break inside Thor. He stopped advancing and just stared at his brother.
He missed him so much. He didn't want to hurt him anymore.
Tony took the hesitation as progress, jumping on the chance to ramble and convince, "You're not taking him. I don't care what color he is. He's still hurt and your system of justice sucks as hell."
Loki looked over to him, like he hadn't even registered there were other people here than Thor. And then he glanced between Bruce and Steve. And lastly, his red eyes settled back onto his not-brother.
"You are all fools," he stuttered out, his voice rough and scratchy and breathy. He winced when he heard himself, both at the awful sound and the sudden fear of punishment. But no, he wasn't there anymore. Not now, and not ever again.
Tony snorted. Bruce smiled. Steve patted the covers gently. Thor… nodded.
And wasn't that the biggest surprise of the century. Where had his hard-headed, arrogant (not) brother gone?
"What about the spider and hawk?" Thor was continuing with, his face crumpled and worn. Loki stared back, at all of them. Thor's voice felt distant, even though he was mere steps away, "They surely will not appreciate their fellow Avengers hosting my brother."
"We'll cross that bridge," Tony answered, and Thor was nodding, like that sentence made any sense whatsoever, and none of this was meant to happen or expected to happen...
And then the Avengers, Midgard's mightiest heroes, fell into a stupid argument about the niceties of knocking and Loki didn't understand...
But if Thor had told them anything, they knew they were going against the Allfather, and they hadn't even bat an eye at his monstrous discoloration. The unspoken acceptance made Loki's eyes droop and his shoulders slump. For the first time in so, so long, he fell asleep on his own, not from an overload of pain or months of sleep deprivation, but a peaceful drifting, like he was floating in a pool of water only knee-high and shallow, able to swim out or touch the ground.
Before he drifted, he managed, through the absence of threads, the absence of a metallic muzzle, to whisper, fully heartfelt, "Thank you."
The rest of it - of Odin, Thanos - would be dealt with, later. And...somehow, someway, together.
.
fin
.
A/N: Sorry for how rushed the ending seems. Thanks for reading! Feel free to drop by and offer criticism or just comment. :) EDITED: this was for a homework assignment (and cause I've been wanted to write a Loki fic for forever) and I got a B lol. I think it deserves an A but whatever haha.