Author's note: And so I guess we enter the part of the story also known as Loki's Exciting Adventures In Bed… and no, not *those* kind of adventures, people… ;)

He's glad that Loki's injuries didn't turn out to be any worse than what Bruce could deal with given his make-shift impromptu doctor's visit. If Tony would have been forced to take Loki to a hospital, that would certainly have complicated matters.

But as it stands, the god can recuperate in Tony's tower, shielded from prying eyes and nosy questions. With Tony acting nursemaid. Another title he can add to his name, right after the whole billionaire genius playboy philanthropist line. Perhaps he should have his business card updated, just to keep it in the weird loop that his life has become lately.

He stares at the closed door for several long moments before tentatively reaching out a hand to push it open. It swings slowly to the side as he stands there in the doorframe, strangely hesitant to step out of the shaded cover the wooden panel offers and out into the open.

When he finally does, Loki is half-sitting there on the bed, sheets pulled up to waist level and bandages covering what would otherwise have been naked skin. Perhaps it's the generous size of the bed that does it, but Tony is suddenly reminded of his first impression on that day when Loki was given over to him, how the god had somehow looked smaller than his usual self, like he had magically shrunk a few sizes overnight.

He has the same look now, and it makes Tony's chest constrict a little. And he can't help but feel a twinge of guilt at how his own immediate, knee-jerk reaction had been anger when he had lost his tracking signal on the god in the subway. He had been so certain that Loki had betrayed his trust by trying to escape, but instead, this was what had happened to him.

And all because Tony had rushed off without thinking, leaving him alone in that carriage. He hopes Loki isn't angry at him for inadvertently causing all this crap, no matter how unintended it had been. The guy is already in a shitty enough situation as it is, he certainly doesn't need to add any insult to injury. Or injury to slavery. Or whatever.

"Hello, Mumm-Ra," he says in greeting, pushing the guilt aside in favour of his usual sarcastic wit as he walks into the room, but his valid attempts at feigned nonchalance are hard to keep up as he comes to a halt at the bedside. The patches of bruises visible on the god's skin stand out in vivid contrast to the stark white of the sheets and the bandages wrapped around his frame, and it makes Tony uncomfortable, unsure of where to rest his gaze – on anything else in the room, and it would only make it all the clearer what he's not looking at; on the body lying in the bed, and he has to see that ugly red and purple; on Loki's face, and he's met with that strange, unreadable look that he doesn't know how to interpret but makes odd things stir within him.

So Tony does what Tony does best. He opens his mouth and talks.

"How's it going? Bruce didn't hulk out on you, did he? And he didn't sew back any of the pieces in the wrong place? Like, I don't know, a toe where an ear should have been or something like that? And hey, that's some impressive bandages you've got right there; want me to sign them for you? I have really neat hand-writing, though no one believes me when I tell them."

He knows he's babbling and his words are spoken only to fill what would otherwise have been an awkward silence, but talking has always been Tony Stark's way of remaining in control of a situation and there's no reason to start changing that now.

The questions spilling from his mouth are many, and yet it is none of these that Loki answers when he finally speaks, instead asking one of his own.

"Why didn't you let them take me back to Asgard? You had your chance to get rid of me; why you didn't take it?" The question, despite being so softly spoken, fills the space between them, expanding like heated vapour until it takes up the entirety of the room.

And Tony isn't sure what to answer, so in the end he shrugs non-committingly, offering a select part of the truth. "I'm not a big fan of the whole torturing to death or sentencing without a trial thing. You know, execution without due process and all that barbaric stuff." If that is at all applicable to Asgard's justice system, where it would appear that Odin acts as judge and jury at the same time, though he probably leaves the executioner part to someone else.

"I already got a trial," Loki says, eyes searching Tony for whatever answer it is he expects to find.

"Yup, after which you ended up in my tower, and lo and behold, you're still here, so I guess we're back where we started." He throws his hands out in a gesture meant to convey flippancy, hoping his casual unperturbedness will help alleviating some of the strange atmosphere in the room. Usually a large enough dose of levity will help breaking apart even the oddest of moods.

Though, Tony has to admit that this time his efforts don't really have the desired effect.

So instead he does something he rarely does – he breaks the uncomfortable silence with something serious. The mood is already awkward, so it's not like it's going to make a huge difference anyway. And he knows he will have to say it sooner or later anyway, so it might as well be sooner.

"So, uh… sorry about what happened," he offers with a grimace, just barely resisting the temptation to inspect his own feet as he says it, but managing to keep his eyes on the bruised and bandaged god in the bed. "I guess it was kind of my fault, rushing off like that, though I had no idea that it would lead to Asgard sending out an emergency SWAT team to pick you up."

Loki doesn't make any reply to that, he merely sits there in silence, his hands and eyes occupied with the hem of the bed cover, fingers fiddling, gaze not meeting with Tony's.

He remains standing at the bedside for a little while, waiting for Loki to say something or at least look at him, but the god does neither.

Oh well. He's not going to press the issue, but he hopes that means that the apology is accepted.

Eventually, after having made sure there was nothing too badly damaged about his slave, Tony left the room, telling him he'd bring Loki some stuff to read, and if there was anything else, he could always tell Jarvis.

And now Loki is alone, once more safe after his dreadful ordeal. He's relieved that Bruce has left too, even if the man hadn't shown him the animosity he had expected. In fact, it was hard to believe that it was the same monster that had once smashed him into the floor that had stood at his bedside examining and wrapping up his injuries as if the two of them weren't enemies and had never fought against each other. He didn't even behave like a warrior at all, and certainly not anything like the green beast he remembers all too well.

Perhaps it's a bit like some of the berserkers he's known in Asgard, men who might be friendly and calm enough in peaceful settings, but once they descend into battle, they turn into raging madmen, not caring about what or who stands in their way.

He picks at one of the gauzes, playing around with the end. And to think that he used to believe that there was no way he could ever be of any less use to Tony than he already was, given his unfamiliarity with the normal tasks performed in a Midgardian household and the way things are done in this realm.

But he was obviously very wrong about that. Now he can barely do anything at all, perhaps for as long as several weeks. Not that he could have been considered very useful before by any stretch of the imagination, but in his current state he's hardly more than a burden and a liability to his master, one of the most precarious positions a slave can find themselves in.

And yet, Tony had decided to keep him instead of letting the Einherjers take him back to Asgard.

Perhaps he'll even understand why one day.

Yes, he is bewildered for many reasons, but right now there is another thing that keeps rising to the top in that inner whirl stream of confusion. Tony has indeed done many strange things since Loki came here, but this definitely counts as one of the strangest.

Just minutes ago, Tony offered what sounded suspiciously like an apology. Expect, that doesn't make any sense. Masters don't offer apologies or excuses to their slaves; the mere notion is absurd.

After all, slaves cannot be entitled to offer forgiveness; such a concept would be preposterous. If there is to be forgiveness, someone must first have been trespassed against, and for that to happen, it presumes the existence of rights, rights that have been violated one way or the other.

And everyone knows that slaves do not have any rights whatsoever.

So he didn't know how to respond to it. What did Tony expect him to answer? Why had he even said something like that in the first place? Anyone in Asgard would have laughed, had they heard him.

So in the end, he had said nothing while hoping the man would move on to talk about something else. Anything that would make sense and not make him feel so awkward and confused, not quite knowing what to do with himself.

Sure, in a way it had been Tony's fault, or at least he had been the cause of it. Not that Loki would ever tell him so, of course, and regardless, it wasn't as if the man could have reasonably been expected to foresee the effects of his actions. Not even Loki had anticipated what had happened, despite Asgard and Heimdall no doubt figuring a lot more often in his mind than in Tony's.

No, as Tony had uttered his perhaps-somewhat-sort-of apology, Loki hadn't been able to bring himself to speak any words aloud in response, to acknowledge it in any way.

But somewhere deep inside of him, he can still hear the faint echo of what he might perhaps have said to Tony, if he hadn't been a slave, if he had been in a position to say any such.

You're forgiven.

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