Author's note: And so, Loki got saved from execution. Now all that's left is facing Bruce. ;)
Loki waits. Lately, it seems that his life has been comprised of long stretches of doing just that. Waiting in his cell at SHIELD for transport back to Asgard. Waiting in the dungeons for his trial. Waiting to be taken to Midgard to be given over to Tony Stark. Waiting for revenge that isn't coming.
And now, he's waiting again as Tony is giving Bruce the run-down of the situation, as the man delicately referred to it, in the room next to his. He can't make out any words, only the soft murmur of voices, sometimes rising in pitch and volume, at other times so soft that they're barely discernible at all. If moving hadn't sent piercing shards of pain through his midsection, he would have snuck up and put his ear to the wall to get a gist of what they're saying.
The two of them have been in there for a long time, much longer than Loki would think necessary to bring the doctor up to speed on the state of things. That is probably not a good sign.
He can hear agitation in Bruce's voice, followed by what sounds like Tony ostensibly trying to get him to calm down. It's not too difficult to get the gist of the situation, though he can't hear a word – Bruce is no doubt expressing his unwillingness to offer his healing aid to the enemy, and Tony is trying to convince him otherwise.
Eventually, he gives up trying to overhear any of the conversation, the throbbing pain stealing his focus away. Right now, everything seems to hurt, including such simple tasks as breathing, swallowing and even blinking.
Gingerly, he presses the ice pack clutched in his hand a little tighter to his ribs, despite the resulting stab of pain. Of course, his injuries would have been mere inconveniences had he still had his powers and would have required no treatment, but in his current mortal body, that is a very different matter.
His thoughts slowly drift back to the frightening series of events that had led up to all this; even now, merely thinking about them makes the resulting fearful pounding of his heart almost drown out the dizzying sense of relief still rushing through his body.
And to think the day had started so well, with the long, relaxing stroll in the park. Even though the ride back home had been uncomfortable with the pressing throng of people, it had been a minor inconvenience, a mere detail in comparison to the delight of the hours spent outside.
Then came the shock when the doors to the carriage closed before Tony had gotten back inside, the vehicle taking off without him. For a seemingly ever-lasting moment, there had only been one thought in his head – what do I do now? He had never expected something like that to happen, and he had been so confused and bewildered, at an utter loss what to do. He had no idea at which stop to get off at, and even if he did, he wouldn't find his way back from there to Tony's tower.
As the worst shock had eventually abated, he had briefly entertained the notion of asking someone in the carriage – people in this city would surely be familiar with the high-rising dwelling of one of their mightiest heroes – but had quickly decided against it. After all, stepping out of his anonymity as a faceless traveller and having someone give him more than a passing glance might result in him being recognized as the one who had brought an army to this realm for conquest. And then things could really turn ugly.
No, it was better to remain in the carriage and hope that something might come along to give him a clue about what would be the right stop. And if that didn't happen, then he'd just get off when the carriage finally reached its end destination and wait there for Tony to come and pick him up. The bracelet around his wrist broadcasted his whereabouts to the man, after all, so there should be no reason for concern.
The idea of escaping had never entered his mind; even without Tony's tracker, there were still Heimdall – who might be watching at any time – and the Asgardian bracelets around his wrists, so any such attempt would be a futile pursuit doomed to fail. But despite the unease coiling in his stomach at being alone and utterly powerless in unfamiliar surroundings in a realm he knew little about and where he was considered an enemy, he had eventually calmed down. Even though he was currently among hostiles without whatever protection Tony's presence would afford him, as long as no one recognized him, things should be fine. Tony would come get him, they'd go back to his tower, and everything would be back to normal again.
He had never considered Asgard. Because he hadn't entertained the notion of escaping, hadn't even stopped to think that his current situation might be interpreted in such a way if Heimdall should decide to throw a glance towards his corner of Midgard. So the possibility never occurred to him that there could be trouble coming from that direction.
Not until the Einherjers had suddenly materialized as he stood there in the deserted underground station waiting for Tony, like a nightmare coming to life before him. They were rough, despite his not resisting, full well knowing it would only make things even worse, especially given his current station. Still, he thought he should be able to clear it all up and speak his innocence, but they refused to listen, the conviction of his guilt already evident in their hard eyes and drawn faces. They had merely scoffed and told him to silence his lying silvertounge, so in the end, he had simply panicked, certain he would be brought back to meet his end, and all because of a pointless, random incident that wasn't anything what it appeared like.
Luckily, the leader of the group had thought it courteous to stop by and inform his master that Loki would no longer be in his possession, because the contract was forfeit and his slave would be taken back to be executed. So after the ensuing teleportation, he had waited in shivering dread in Tony's tower, his arms held in bruising grips as he slumped between the guards, barely able to stand up by his own devices after the beating he had suffered at their hands when his panic attack had been taken as resistance.
He had sagged in relief at the sight of Tony finally walking in – or running, as it were – truth be told, he had never been so glad to see anyone. Now there would be someone a lot more credible than him to corroborate the story that had only been dismissed at desperate lies from a condemned man, someone to deny the false accusations levelled at him.
Then, as another possibility suddenly reared its ugly head in his mind, his relief twisted into a choking tendril of fear instead – what if Tony decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of him, to have him taken back to Asgard? The man had never wanted Loki as a slave, and had expressed his dissatisfaction at this arrangement more times than he cared to remember at that point.
And all the man had to do was speak the words, he's lying, and Loki would be hauled back to face a long, lingering and painful death. The amount of power Tony held in his hands in that moment was terrifying, and it would only take so precious little, like a razor-sharp scythe swooping down to take a head off by the mere flick of a wrist.
But the scythe never fell.
Because despite Loki's uselessness as a slave, despite all the problems he has been the cause of, despite his never being wanted or needed here, despite so many things, Tony had for some reason still decided that he'd rather keep his slave than have him sent back and finally be rid of him.
The only question is… why?
His musings are interrupted by the click of a handle as the closed door swings open to admit a face he remembers far too well, that of Bruce Banner. Tony is there too, hovering in the background, as if he's unsure of whether he should be there at all.
Loki steels himself. He is not looking forward to being treated by Bruce, who, naturally, will harbour no desire to aid him, but since the man is here it would seem that he has succumbed to what must have been Tony's insistent persuasion attempts. Perhaps Bruce has agreed in recognition of old friendship, then, or as repayment of some debt or the other.
"Hello, Loki," the man says in greeting as he walks in, placing the bag in his hand down on the table. He comes to a halt a step away from where Loki is half-sitting on the bed, for a moment looking like he's not sure what to say to his enemy suddenly turned patient. But a couple of heartbeats later, he bridges that last step, with a note more confidence in his posture.
"I understand that you have sustained some injuries, and Tony has asked me to check you over, so I'm going to do just that. Are you… okay with this?" he asks, as if he is actually giving Loki a choice in the matter.
And Loki doesn't – he really doesn't – want the man who turns into that green monster anywhere near him, not the crude beast who smashed him into the floor like he was a child's toy. Even back then, at the time of his defeat, when he was still in possession of his full powers, had Bruce managed to pummel him into a state of dazed oblivion. A similar encounter in his current state would of course end considerably worse.
Warily, he searches those eyes for a glint of green, any sign that the presence of his enemy is yet again drawing forth the beast; however, he can find none.
So he nods once, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.
In the end, Bruce has to cut his shirt open as lifting his arms high enough to remove the garment the normal way proves too painful for Loki, while Tony's mutters something containing the words Megadeth logo and cutting into pieces and blasphemy. Then, as the remains of his shirt are being peeled off, the man excuses himself and leaves, vaguely mumbling about concepts of privacy and doctor-patient relations.
Loki apprehensively watches him go. Truth be told, he would have preferred if Tony had remained in the room instead of leaving him alone with the beast, since it would have made him feel safer. Which is a strange concept, that Tony's presence should be accompanied by feelings of safety rather than fear, which would have been the default setting in a normal master-slave relation. But the man did see fit to step in between Loki and the Einherjer that had punched him to the floor, so hopefully he'd step in again, if Bruce should show signs of wanting to hurt him.
He watches Bruce dig into his bag and remove something out of its depths, and Loki strains to see what it is, suspicion coiling inside of him. The two little beads that the doctor shakes out of a can do look harmless enough as they lay in his palm, round and white, but as Bruce hands them over to him, he makes no move to accept them.
"They're painkillers. They will take away some of the pain," Bruce explains, calmly holding his hand out but not making any attempts to force the pills onto his unwilling patient.
Slowly, Loki lifts up his hand for these 'painkillers', and the other man tips his own hand, letting the contents spill down into Loki's upturned palm. He doesn't trust the doctor, but has no desire to do anything that might call forth the man's alter ego again. Reluctantly, he brings the white pills up to his mouth and swallows them down, relaxing slightly as there are no immediate adverse affects.
Bruce works mostly under silence, keeping his comments to a minimum. After some uncomfortable prodding, he does mention that one of Loki's ribs is cracked and instructs him to lean forward so he can wind some gauze around his midsection, something which makes for an unpleasant experience.
But the silence fits him perfectly; speaking hurts and he has no desire to waste precious words on this man whose only reason for helping him is out of loyalty to Tony.
It is only after he has dabbed at the cut on Loki's forehead with a cotton swab drenched in something that makes Loki gasp at the unexpected sting and pull away, only to be rewarded with even worse pain in his midsection, that the man speaks again.
Bruce pulls off the gloves he's wearing, throws them into the waste basket in the corner, and then gathers his other supplies and medical equipment strewn across the bedside table. As the last things have been placed inside and the bag zipped shut, Loki expects the man to leave, having fulfilled his promise of aid. But instead of acting as anticipated, the man pulls out a chair and plonks himself down next to the bed.
And then he just sits there for a few moments, glancing Loki over like he's seeing him for the first time, bandages and bruises covering his body. There is something about that stare that makes Loki want to squirm, but he doesn't, steeling himself for what comes next.
The doctor clears his throat, almost like he's embarrassed, and pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with the tip of a finger.
"So, how are you faring?" the man finally says, breaking the silence.
"I… am as well as can be expected under the circumstances," Loki replies stiffly and warily, not sure what prompted the question. After all, the doctor has examined him and can no doubt draw his own conclusions from those observations. "But I will heal, even mortal bodies do eventually," he adds, not wanting to appear any weaker than he must surely already do.
Bruce fidgets a little where he's sitting, like there are invisible spikes lining the seat of his chair.
"No, I meant with all of this." He makes a vague gesture that is meant to indicate something not physically present in the room. "With being a… well, a slave."
The question takes him by surprise. It was not one he had seen coming, least of all from the man who once pounded him into the floor without a moment of regret. There is no reason for Bruce to ask, and besides, Loki has no desire to discuss his position; breaching the subject with Thor was bad enough, but having his humiliation spoken of aloud with what is essentially a stranger would be even worse.
"Tony explained the situation to me," Bruce continues, undeterred by Loki's silence, "and even though I can't say I'm pleased with the idea of one of my friends being what is technically a slave owner, I can understand that Tony didn't have much choice in the matter. Just like you had none."
Perhaps he would be better off keeping his mouth shut, but being fully aware that he's a slave without power, without any control over his own life, without the luxury of making his own choices, without all the things he always took for granted before this, he says it anyway.
"I did have a choice. I could have chosen death at my trial instead." Of course, it's only a further degradation admitting to this; to divulge that he, no matter how unwillingly, consented to slavery, but at least it offers him the tiniest illusion of some control, some choice, as opposed to being a passive victim who has no say in his own destiny
The doctor shakes his head, mouth drawn into a tight line. "You know, once Thor had brought you back to Asgard, we did discuss among ourselves what punishment would await you there. None of us really knew anything about Asgardian justice, so we just assumed you'd be imprisoned in one form of the other. No one thought… you'd be sentenced to slavery."
Loki cocks his head. "It is not an unheard of form of punishment in Asgard. Not very common, no, but not extraordinary either." Though, truth be told, it was not what he had expected himself.
"Hmm." The doctor pauses, looking like he's not sure what comment to offer to that. He then draws a sigh, looking at Loki with an unreadable expression on his face as he leans forward slightly, palms resting on his thighs. "Well, if you at all want to talk about it, I'm bound by professional secrecy, so nothing you'd say would leave this room."
And talking about any of this is the last thing he wants to do. "There is nothing to be said that will change anything. My sentence still stands," he replies, a slight quiver in his voice that he's not quite sure just where it came from.
Bruce is quiet for a while, as if he thinks the brooding silence enveloping the room is going to break Loki into spilling his thoughts. If that's the plan, it doesn't have the desired effect.
"Well then," Bruce finally says, making as if to stand, but then changing his mind before his backside has lifted from the seat, fingers picking at a strand on the seam of his shirt. "I assume that Tony has treated you alright?"
"He… has," Loki says slowly, not even having to lie in order to offer the only acceptable answer to such a question. Though why anyone would ask a slave any of the sort is beyond him.
Bruce nods slowly. "You know, Tony has his share of faults like everyone else, but when it all comes down to it, he's a good man."
Loki doesn't offer a reply to that, merely fiddles around with the cover of the bed, and a few moments later, the doctor excuses himself and leaves the room.
Whatever truth there might be in Bruce's statement, there is one thing that is certain – if he had been a slave back on Asgard, his fate would have been a much harsher one.
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