Many thanks to Ordis for helping me write this chapter!
This chapter takes place from Loki's POV.
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Demons - Imagine Dragons
When they first met, he'd barely paid any attention to the other man, initially.
The man was obviously mortal, and he'd been a little too busy not screaming to concern himself with something so insignificant as that.
He'd been strapped to the table, because apparently they still felt this was necessary even after they'd broken his arms and legs and bound the magic he might have used to heal them and everything else with some drug that burns in him like fire, and taints his blood like mud. Above him, the…scientists, they called themselves, though if they are they are very different from the ones who'd found- pain; shivering, agonizing pain, slowly cut away the skin of his chest, and pried his ribs apart with a sickening crack. The stranger had been watching. Well, what did he matter? He was just one more mortal, one more face.
He had been silent, naturally; jaw locked, tongue firmly between his teeth, refusing to let out a single whisper of pain in front of these men.
He'd amused himself with distractions, with thoughts. His mind had been swimming went they'd brought him in, it felt raw and abused, like their fingers had not just perverted his body but his thoughts, clawing and tearing with electricity. He had gotten the vague sense that he should not resist these people. Norns knew why, they were weak, flimsy men playing at being gods. But his instincts were what kept him alive, and so he struggled not to fight the bonds holding him down to the icy table.
And then, as the mortals finally drew away, as his lips had peeled back into a smile, the lights that had been glaring into his eyes (had they always been there? Why can't he remember?) were pushed away, and he suddenly realized someone was speaking from a great distance, as if through fog.
"He's been…cautious…damage…under…."
"Und…..ood."
He'd tried to reach for the words, to understand, to listen.
A loud bang, and then silence.
He laid still on the table, tensed for cruel hands returning to him, snapping open his still healing chest and wrenching away his reprieve.
But it wasn't that.
There was a click at his right ankle.
And then his left.
Slowly, he realized he was being released from his bonds. It was only his pride that kept him from even releasing a shaky breath of relief. Then, something cool slipped under his weakened knees, and a solid arm cradled his head in the crook of an elbow. Then he was being lifted off of the table and towards something solid and warm.
He felt like he was floating, exhaustion and a bone deep ache in his body making his head swim and long for sleep. But he couldn't sleep. Not yet.
As he felt the sway of his body as he was carried away, he struggled to open his eyes. Ebony lashes slowly pried themselves apart, his bleary eyes searching for his savior. Worn dark blue pools met his own, and he (shockingly) managed to crack parched lips.
"Who are you?" he breathed, his voice a thin whisper of sound.
The Soldier stared at him as he walked, cradling his broken body in his arms.
"Your partner."