Oh my dear god. Thank you guys for the reviews, favorites and follows. You have no idea what that means to me. Anyways, I felt nice enough to write another chapter before I take my finals *cries* I'll probably take a couple days off from writing now, but after Dec. 20th, I'll be back on track.
I don't own Marvel or any of it's characters, I don't make any profit from this fanfiction.
The world seems a lot heavier than it should be, as Loki's mind begins to rouse its thoughts.
He has no energy whatsoever.
Loki wakes to warm lighting and the sharp, piercing scent of antiseptic.
Where he lies is a cot of some sort, and he takes notice of a periodic beeping.
How annoying.
Though, his gut constricts at the sight of a thin tube protruding from his right arm, where it leaks something from a machine into his blood, adding to the marks along his forearm.
At his wrists his is restrained to the cot.
He screws his eyes shut in shame. Weakness on his own was one thing to succumb to, but to show it to these mortals?
Pathetic.
For the time being, he worries about his situation. What in the name of the Norns are they putting in him?
His thoughts wander through the worst of possibilities, stopping by chances of poison and paralyzation. It distracts him from chastising himself, since he was so careful, for so long. Months had passed since his-'temporary' probation-was declared by the All-Father. He would rather have his magic restrained, for he was able to use it, but not allowed to. The best option was to lay low.
Not that he had a choice. Showing his face anywhere in New York meant a death sentence, and finding a place to live in the shady complex was hard enough.
Due to Loki giving in to his-selfish-wants, his natural seidr tried to save him, and in his impaired state, he had forgotten the terms of his exile and instinctively started recovering himself.
What he would give, for the liquid dripping itself into his veins, to be the end.
"You're not seriously going to question him in his state, right?"
Fury didn't turn around. "Once he is awake enough to start talking, damn right I'm getting info out of him."
"Sir, with all possible respect, that is completely ridiculous."
Unfazed, the director's voice resonates again, "You don't have the authority to question that."
"I know, Director Fury, but I can't help but state what I'm worried about. You know I've never spoken out of line unless I thought it was necessary. Please consider it." Daviau knows she is pushing it, but she was always so soft, and seeing someone in a state like that, even Loki, doesn't put her at ease.
"I'm sorry Daviau, but this is above your level of clearance."
"Alright sir. I'll get back to the bridge." With reluctance, she spins on her heel, and clicks her way back to her assigned duties, while she makes sure not one hair of her bun is out of place.
She still thinks this is an awful idea.
"Hey, Birdbrain, toss me more scotch?"
"Fuck you."
Tony grunts. "You were drinking too."
"Exactly, I'm saving more for me."
"I bought that bottle."
"And you can buy another."
Natasha groans. "Stop arguing, you idiots. It's getting on my nerves."
"If your boyfriend wasn't such an asshole, I'd be able to drink until my nerves stop feeling."
Clint snatches the glass bottle from the cupboard, and jumps over the couch. "Sorry Stark, but that's my plan." He races out of the room, Tony too tired to chase after him.
"Jarv?"
"Yes sir?"
"Lock all doors Hawkeye runs his sorry ass to."
A moment passes before a small beep is heard, Jarvis speaking right after it. "All doors that Mr. Barton happens to come to, will lock."
Sitting up from the armchair she had claimed, Natasha grins.
Tony glares at her.
"What?"
"How can you smile after seeing..Loki?"
Though she keeps her smirk on her face, her eyes cloud over. "I've seen worse."
"Speak for yourself Red."
"If you're not going to do anything productive about the situation, then stop sulking over it."
"What the fuck am I supposed to do?"
"If you can't figure it out, then you can't think about it."
He squints at her, trying to see if she's joking.
"How?"
"You're a little smarter than even me, figure it out. You took down S.H.I.E.L.D's walls before. Do it again. Make sure they don't do anything to him."
Stark quickly glances around, as if he could see the cameras S.H.I.E.L.D set up. "Aren't you worried they'll…"
"Hear us?" She snickers. "I know better than that. I took down the audio and replaced it."
Agent Daviau sits at her screen, monitoring all the incoming files on Loki. She still isn't convinced that Loki was faking, as her coworkers were deciding to believe.
Yes, it's understandable.
Doesn't mean that it's true.
The information filters through at an incredibly fast pace, too much for even three people. Their supervisor assigned her team to sort the information that they have, some of it very unsettling, with all the details on his murders.
She has to give some of that work to Agent Cran, out of the sickness from looking at it.
Tony gets to work on breaking down S.H.I.E.L.D's new security, which is easy enough. The real problem is to remain undetected. What he is doing can possibly get him arrested and put on Fury's flying circus. That never went well. So as soon as he finds a file to do with his favorite godly brat, he copies it and deletes all-well, some- traces that it ever existed in their database.
"Oh hell."
"What is it Alicia?"
Daviau sighs. "Someone got in. Loki's files are disappearing."
"I'm literally going to kill them. I have just spent an hour sorting through that asshole's records."
"Don't, I like having you do my work."
"You're hilarious. Call in a yellow alert."
Loki is trapped.
Literally and figuratively.
Trapped within a nightmare, clawing at his brain, that doesn't know what to do. It just sends more venom, swimming in it, smothering him with it's darkness.
Frigga smiles at him, while telling him he is unwanted. How weak he is.
"Oh Loki. No one loves a Jotun." She touches his face with hands weathered from magic and battle. "I gave you the courtesy of faking love, and you murdered me."
He tries to scream, to plead with her to stop saying these true things, but he grasps at his throat, which is slit.
Frigga holds up his blade. Blue blood drips from it.
Suddenly, she isn't there, replaced by the real prince of Asgard.
Thor looks dejected.
"Why Loki?"
Loki tries to ask what he means, but his vocal cords have been severed, but that only angers his not-brother. His face darkly contorts.
"You wish not to speak to me? Then we will make sure you can't."
The muzzle is suddenly on him, and he hears laughter. He is in the council room, on his knees, tears streaming down his face, and he knows, he knows why. Finally Loki the Liar has shut his damn mouth. His lips are swollen, and he reaches up to touch the thick thread stitching them together. With horror, he sees his hands are blue, as Asgardian hands start ripping him apart, screaming to kill the son of Laufey.
Loki wakes up screaming, tears running down his face. The restraints hold him back from shooting up from the cot.
"I'm sorry, so sorry..."
He sobs for an increasingly long time, shuddering with remants of the dream. He would shake off the feeling if he could, spiders with needle legs crawling up his back.
He doesn't care anymore. The mortals have seen some of his weakest points, why the Hel not another?
When he has at least stopped crying, he notices a tray next to him, filled with food, though its purpose was obviously not to be eaten by him, as he was tied down.
Mundane, compared to Asgard's punishments.
Though he is afraid to speak, the dripping dagger stabbing his thoughts, he will not become a complete weakling before his captors. "I'm still waiting for some punishment. I'm actually comfortable here, I'd increase the torture methods."
Nothing.
Loki sighs, looking around the bleak room. The dream has thrown him off, so he resumes his sarcastic and egotistical self.
Norns, what a damn mess he's gotten himself into.