Loki's room was big, the walls were painted pale green and there was a big- well, enormous bed in the middle of it. There was also a book shelf with some books, as he requested, books about science, books about war, books about the functioning life on Midgard, fiction. And a nice big window and a luxurious bathroom for himself. He really had all that Midgard could offer him, all the little things he could ask for. So much more than he would have expected from former enemies.

But yet, he didn't want to be there.

There was a voice on the walls, watching him, making sure he didn't do anything odd or self-harming and alerting the Avengers. He had tried, again, after being left alone in his room. He was stopped - and felt even more frustrated. Useless, frustrated Loki.

He' been angry, at first. Thought of a million ways in which to get back at the Avengers for this, a million ways to sabotage the building, the whole organisation, to get him out thrown out of the organisation, with a bit of luck be sentenced to death. So he could finally have some peace. But part of him felt that he was going to fail. Just like head failed at everything else. And then they would mock him and chain him he was just so tired of everything.

Exhausted and still sore, he put on some pyjamas and went to the big bed, finally, to get some rest. The bed was incredibly comfortable. He found himself lost in a world of half-true things, of visions and monsters, of regretted last words, of hatred, and sardonic laughs and mockery.
When he woke up from his nightmares, he was even more exhausted than before. So he stayed in bed, in the world of darkness he had created under the sheets and blankets, trying to ignore the sun outside the windows, reminding him of his continued existence, of the world that kept turning. Thor came to his room to say goodbye, because he was going to visit his girlfriend.

"I know I'm not the most welcome sight for you now, so I will leave to avoid distressing you any further. But remember that I did what I did because I love you. Always, Loki. Never forget it. Farewell, now."

Loki stayed in bed, feeling unable to get out of the warmth it provided, and dreading the start of his stay in that place.

Dreading everything.

He was so tired of the memories, so tired of the nightmares. He'd put all his hopes in this plan, on dying once and for all and now he didn't know what to do with himself. The thoughts of there being days, weeks and even months ahead of him was incredibly discouraging and only made him feel more miserable.

He wanted to be better, wanted to wake up and show those damn Avengers all his worth... But couldn't. He felt pathetic and weak and stupid. A failure. He was ugly and unwanted and a monster with no worth who should have gone to Hel long ago and...

"Rise and shine, Loki! I think you have slept more than enough, don't you?" The voice of the Captain of America interrupted his thoughts, as he strode in the room, smiling, and opened the curtains. The sun light hurt Loki's face, his whole being, ferociously. It was awful.

"I am not in the mood for rising, Captain, much less for shining. "

"Gosh," Steve said, taking in Loki's ashen face, the shadows under the eyes, the bruises everywhere. "You look terrible. But it's nothing that a good shower and something to eat won't fix."

"I am not hungry."

"I will have none of that, mister. You already skipped breakfast and dinner yesterday, there's no way were letting you skip lunch. I'm sure you'll feel better when you eat. Oh, and we can have Bruce over to fix your hand."

Loki's hand had acquired a most unhealthy purple-black tone after being smashed by Mjolnir the previous day. Loki didn't mind the pain. Sometimes, he found comfort in it, sometimes it was him who caused it, to try and forget about the rest - the rest of his life. Something that was always there when he called.

But of course, The Avengers had to do something about it. Stupid mortals, trapping him there. Depriving him of his magic. But Loki knew that as much as he tried to blame the rest of the people this had been all his had gotten himself in that mess, he had appeared in the battle, this was all his fault.

"Well, I'll leave you to your shower." The voice of the Captain startled Loki, who had momentarily forgotten that he wasn't alone. "If you have any questions, just ask JARVIS. Lunch is in in 90 minutes and if I don't see you there I'm gonna have to drag you. So, please."

Loki wanted to cry, but didn't. He had to be strong. He had to be better than this.

He spent too long in the shower, until the machine in the walls automatically closed down.

He took out some black clothes for one of the wardrobes, and when he finally found something that fit, went out of the room. It was too sunny and his black hair was dripping wet on his black cotton shirt. Loki was barefoot on Stark tower, walking unenthusiastically. People were wary around him. Barton warned him that he wasn't as grateful as the rest, with him, and that he hadn't forgotten. Loki would have responded with a witty remark but couldn't even think.

The attack the previous day, almost dying, trying and failing to die and those damn nightmares had left him in really bad shape. Also, he didn't have his magic.

"Lovely to see you again too, Barton. " Was the only thing he could manage.

Banner greeted him, and told him that he had something to fix his hand. It was getting rather painful, so Loki agreed, even if the beast still scared him a bit. Even so, this was Banner, not the beast. Banner wasn't always green, wasn't always a monster. Loki wished he could have that luxury, too.

They were alone in the room, after Barton had left. Banner had a medical kit with him and was calmly going through it.

"Let me see that hand."

Loki somewhat reluctantly did it and Bruce noted the terrible state of it. Gods, Thor hadn't been soft. Not a bit. Bruce didn't know if meds would work on the alien and didn't want to risk side effects, so he just put on some cream and bandaged it, in silence. Loki was thankful for the silence. Banner's eyes were focused on the task of bandaging. It was for the best. He wouldn't know what to say anyways. Well, except for one thing.

"Thank you for yesterday, Loki. I know you didn't do it for us, but still. Thank you."

Loki only nodded. He wasn't in the mood for much talking. Banner kept talking, with his eyes still on the hand.

"And, just so you know... I know where you're coming from. When everyday is hell. When you hate it all and just want it to end. It's something Thor will never understand, or Steve."

"They'll want to fix everything, quickly. I know this kind of thing takes time and I know probably right now you don't want to get better, that right now or you want to do is crawl up in hole and die. I know that, I've been there. Just so you know. You're not alone."

It was a nice feeling.

Loki was slightly happy that not all the Avengers were as cheerful as the Captain, or as hateful as Barton.

At lunch, Tony monopolized the conversation almost entirely, with jokes and comments that Loki mostly ignored while pushing around his food.

He threw up what little he had eaten a couple of hours later, in the bathroom of his room. Loki didn't want to cry, but he was crying. He didn't want this. He didn't want the pain, and the misery and not being able to properly sleep or eat. He didn't want to see death as the only answer. But he just couldn't cope anymore, couldn't cope with all his past and his present and the grief and the hate... And these were the only thoughts in his head. As much as he tried to will them away, they came back.

He felt exhausted. And useless.

Steve wanted to drag Loki to dinner too, but Bruce told him it was better to give the guy some space. Steve didn't like it, where they just going to leave the guy brooding in his room, alone in the dark?

"If he's sad then he needs to see the sun and be with other people, eat something... Do healthy things."

"It's not that easy, Steve." Bruce said.

"Besides, I don't think being forced to do things is going to make him any happier, as nice as those things may be." Tony added.

It was that night when Loki re-emerged from his room. Disheveled, melancholic, bright-eyed. He had remembered his mother for some reason - it hadn't been nice. He sought the distraction of other people and found Banner and Stark on a sofa, in front of a television.

"Hey, look who's here!" Stark chanted, obviously drunk. "Want to join us, Lokes? We're eating pop-corn and drinking high-graduation liquor and watching Star Trek. You'll like it, it happens in space."

Bruce drew a small smile in his direction, and Loki nodded. Maybe the film would be distraction he'd been looking for. He fell asleep so time later, on the sofa, after too much alcohol and two hours of adventure in space.

"He can be very nice." Tony said, looking at the alien. "Pity that he's crazy."

"We have to convince him, convince him that it's worth living. I just don't know how to do it." Bruce added.

And so they left him there, with a blanket on top of him, and he cloaked again by the darkness. It was going to be a long journey until he was whole, but the Avengers were patient.

A/N: Crappy cahp, but I wanted to update and give some more kind of background on Loki's depression. Hope somebody liked ;)
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