Author's note: In reply to anonymous Height/Bored (since you seem to be the same person): Before you accuse someone of writing "crap", I would suggest you take a long good look at the grammar and orthography of your own reviews. And I assure you, nothing in this story is nearly as predictable and boring as the usual hiding-behind-anonymity-not-daring-to-post-from-a- registered-account cowardice that is for some reason always displayed by flamers…
The handcuffs locking his wrists together are tight and restricting his movements, but Fury had insisted on them for security reasons. And Loki is well aware that he is hardly in any position to protest, so he holds his tongue, despite his dislike for the cold metal circling his wrists.
Thor had not been allowed to be present during the interrogation, and despite his initial, very insistent protests, he had eventually relented, realizing that some concessions were probably fair now that Fury had agreed not to take Loki into custody but instead let him serve his sentence as decreed by Odin.
At least Tony is here, though. Fury did not seem to consider that such a big issue, even though he had at first scowled at the man's demand to sit in. But he had acquiesced, after having given Tony the curt instructions to sit still and shut the fuck up. And Loki is glad of that. Tony's presence makes him feel secure; being alone with Fury would not have been comfortable, particularly not after his unpleasant stay in SHIELD custody after his defeat in New York.
The black-clad man is sitting at the opposite side of the table, perpetually glaring. For what must have been the better part of an hour, he's been answering the man's never-ending stream of questions about the Chitauri that he was already asked last time he was under Fury's interrogation, about their army, their strengths and weaknesses, and the possibility that they will return to Earth. To the last question he answered that such a thing will not happen – the Chitauri might be a warlike race hell-bent on conquering, but while they are intelligent, they are also single-minded and do not have capability for emotions like humans or gods do. Desire for revenge is an unknown concept to them, a race only concerned with gaining victory and avoiding defeat. They'd have no reason to once more attack a superior enemy who has already proven capable of so thoroughly decimating their forces.
Fury seems to doubt this, though, and he keeps repeating his questions, trying to pull even the tiniest and most unimportant details out from his interrogation object.
After what feels like an eternity of asking and answering, the man finally leans back in his seat, hands reaching behind his neck to serve as support for his head. There is silence as he obviously mulls something over, face impassive.
"So the Chitauri might not be coming back, as you claim, but what guarantee do we have that you won't make another attempt to take over the planet again if we let you run around here, as opposed to throwing your ass into a deep dark cell somewhere?" he finally asks, voice harsh.
Tony leans forwards as if on the verge of saying something, but Fury raises a pre-emptive palm in his direction. "Shut up, Stark, I wasn't asking you," he grumbles, before even the first word has gotten a fair chance to leave Tony's lips.
And Loki can understand the concern inherent in that question, even if he doesn't like the accompanying hostility and suspicion. Or the man himself. So he answers as politely and neutrally as he can manage, trying to keep his dislike out of his voice and his choice of words. "As I have already assured you, Director, I have seen the error of my ways. I deeply regret my actions against your world and my previous intentions to rule it are no more, and I intend to make amends for what I've done, as stipulated. There is nothing you and your people have to fear from me."
"So you have told me. As has Odin." Fury's voice is laced with distrust, thick and overbearing. "However, in my line of work, simply taking someone's word for something isn't conducive to a long career. Or a long life, for that matter." The single eye is observing and searching, trying to find a kink that will expose the lie suspected to be hidden beneath.
"That might be so. And I realize there's probably nothing I can say that will convince you otherwise. However, if you will not take my word for it, then rest assured that the chains on my wrists are effectively preventing me from using my magic. And even after these two years are over, they will likewise prevent me from using what magic I have regained for ill intent." He lifts his bound wrists, displaying the chains circling them, though they are partially obscured by the gleaming metal of the Midgardian restraints. "I would not be able to harm your kind, even if I wanted to."
Fury scoffs. "And I am supposed to take comfort in the knowledge that all that stands between our planet and your desire to rule it would be two flimsy little wristbands?" he intones slowly, pointing his chin at the chains.
"Magic wristbands," Tony points out somewhere to his right. Fury doesn't deign that with an answer as his eye is still lingering on the magic bindings.
"They have been imbued with Odin's own magic," Loki says, quenching a sigh. "And the Allfather is the most powerful sorcerer in all the Nine realms, his skills surpassing even those of my own. There is no way for me to break free of these bonds."
Fury suddenly stands up, and Loki tenses as he walks around the edge of the table and comes to stand beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Tony tensing up as well, posture alert and ready for whatever comes next.
But the man does nothing more than reaching out a hand to tug at one of the chains around Loki's wrists, as if he's testing its strength, suspecting it might snap under his ministrations. Of course, the binding is thin and doesn't look very sturdy, but the enchantments make it stronger than any other metal or material could ever be.
"Hmm." The utterance is more than a snort than an actual word. Fury's fingers continue to poke around for a few moments, trailing along the cool metal as if he expects some kind of proof of the power contained within to manifest itself. Loki knows the man won't sense a thing, though; only those with magic powers are able to. To Fury, the material will be as dead and unresponsive as any other piece of metal.
"And these supposedly block your access to your magic?" the man asks, as if that part hasn't been made clear multiple times already. "Every bit of it?"
"They do," Loki replies, wondering if the question is merely Fury's way of basking in the evidence of his enemy's powerlessness, but refusing to be baited and respond with anger or annoyance. "I can wield no more magic than you can, Director."
Another 'hmm', and another tug at the slim band. Then Fury removes his prodding fingers, drawing himself up to his full height next to Loki, fixing him with an expressionless stare.
And then, Fury strikes without warning, quick as a viper. Loki is fully unprepared for the sudden attack and has no time to raise even a hand in defence before the man's arm is pulled tight around his neck and he is roughly pulled up from his seat, his back pressed into the body behind him.
Tony's reaction is immediate. He flies up from his seat, chair falling to the floor as he gets to his feet. "What the fuck are you doing? Let him go!" he shouts angrily.
Fury calmly takes a few steps back from the table and away from Tony, dragging Loki with him. "Stand back, Stark, or I will snap his neck. Same thing goes if you call for Thor or Jarvis."
Loki claws desperately at the arm constricting around his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply, but the awkward angle, the handcuffs and the gloved hand gripping the chain between them make his struggles ineffective and futile.
He gulps for air as the arm cruelly twists, tilting his neck to a point so painfully close to breaking that even one too deep a breath might be enough to make it snap. He stills his thrashing and concentrates merely on breathing shallowly and remaining as unmoving as possible, despite the increasing pain in his neck and his throat. The world seems to be slipping away from him inch by inch, and his limbs don't seem to be obeying him anymore, leaving him limp and unresponsive in Fury's grip.
There are dark spots dancing before his eyes, but he can still make out the frozen figure that is Tony, as well as the note of panic in his voice as he tries to reason with Fury. And it's not angry anymore, but pleading.
That's odd, his brain dully registers. Tony never pleads. The man is cocky, self-assured, and brash. Not even that one time an eternity ago when Loki faced off with the man, wholly defenceless without his suit, did he plead. No, instead he threatened, he boasted, he made light, despite knowing that Loki could kill him any second. Still, he never pleaded.
And yet, now he does.
"Please, Fury, for fuck's sake," Loki can hear the man imploring through the distant haze that is all that remains of his conscious, slowly slipping, mind. "Just… let him go. Please."
He isn't even afraid, though, now that death has finally come to claim him. Just... sad. Sad that now that he has finally found something so precious after all his long years of life, it is to be taken away from him. And he from it.
In that moment, he fervently wishes that the last thing he will carry with him from this world wouldn't have to be the panicked sadness of that voice. It's more than he can bear, leaving Tony like this.
"Stop it. Just don't. Please."
And then, impossibly, the hard floor makes contact with his knees, and then with the rest of him as he is unceremoniously dropped to the ground. There's a sharp stab of pain as sweet air suddenly rushes through his sore windpipe, and he realizes that he can breathe again. He coughs and splutters, manacled hands reaching up to his bruised throat.
And then there's the sound of moving feet and Tony's voice speaking again, though this time it's furious. "You fucking bastard," he roars. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"
A split second later, there's the unmistakable snap of a gun being cocked, followed by the moving feet coming to a sudden halt.
"Stay back, Stark."
There is silence for a while, interrupted only by Loki's ragged breathing as he pulls himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the wall with a hand still at his throat as he takes in the scene before him.
Fury is standing with his arm out and gun raised, still and unwavering as a statue. Tony is perhaps two yards away, equally frozen in his spot by the muzzle pointed at his head. His fists are clenched and face drawn into a snarl, reminiscent of a predator eager to rip its prey apart. The tension between them almost makes the air sparkle, as if a conjuror is weaving his spells, creating little ripples and bursts of energy around him.
And he wants to speak up, wants to tell Fury to put the gun down and away from Tony, but right now he can't make even a word come out of his abused throat, so his efforts only turn into a hoarse rattle.
After what feels like an eternity, the gun is slowly lowered, but not completely. It still remains in Fury's hand, half-pointing towards the floor, poised to be brought up again in an instant should circumstances so demand.
"You goddamn-" Tony begins, his fists clenching and unclenching, but before any further insults can spill forth, he is interrupted by Fury.
"Calm down," the black-clad man says, unruffled as if nothing out of the ordinary has taken place, as if they were still all sitting around the table talking borderline-civilly like they were mere minutes ago.
Tony doesn't look like he is about to calm down anytime soon, but the gun is still in full view, and he makes no move other than glaring. "Alright, care to explain why the hell you just decided to strangle a restrained and unresisting prisoner?" His voice is soft but there is no mistaking the sinister-ness underneath, threatening pain and hurt and vengeance. "This isn't SHIELD headquarters. Don't bring your shit into my tower. I have fucking standards here."
Fury's mouth curls into a tight smile. "Prisoner? I thought Loki was a slave." The sardonic mockery is almost tangible, but his face soon reverts into its usual serious scowl as he fixes Tony with a one-eyed glare.
"You really think I would take the word of a hostile alien, who is also known as the god of lies, along with that of his father that these magic-blocking chains are working?" Fury shakes his head, as if the mere thought is laughable. "That Loki hasn't managed to find a way around these bindings to access some parts of his magic again and use it for nefarious means? You know me better than that, Stark. Of course it was necessary to test the truth of that claim. And what better way to reveal any hidden powers Loki still had than a hands-on threat to his life?"
He looks to Loki who is still huddled on the floor, their glares meeting for a moment before he turns his attention back to Tony.
"It would seem that my doubts regarding the effectiveness of Asgard's bindings were unfounded, though," he says flatly, not sounding sorry or repentant in the least.
Tony bristles. "Great plan, Mister Cyclops, really great plan. And what if it turned out that your suspicions were right and Loki still had some of his powers? He'd probably have fucking killed you right there and then! And he would have been well within his rights to!"
"Then my agents waiting outside would have killed him in turn," Fury replies matter-of-factly, as if these turns of events would have been no particularly big deal. Then his face turns several shades darker. "Now, you listen up, Stark. Like I said, there will be an agent sent over here to keep a watch on things for a while, and if there is anything suspicious, anything at all, I don't care what Odin said in that parchment, I will take Loki back to SHIELD, no further questions asked."
With that, the man calmly places his gun back into its holster and turns to leave. "I'll find my way out on my own. When you have a plan for the amends part of the sentence, you will report back to me for approval."
"Yeah, and don't let the door hit your ugly ass on the way out," Tony snaps at him.
As Fury's hand is on the door handle, he turns back to Tony and throws him the keys to the handcuffs that Loki is still wearing. Tony catches them one-handed. "You better keep your pet on tight leash, or else he won't remain your pet for long," he says with another scowl.
And with that, Fury is gone with the fluttering of a black cape, and Tony is at Loki's side in an instant, the man's arms wrapping around him. "Fuck, are you alright?" he breathes, face pale and eyes wide.
Loki only nods and lets Tony pull him tighter and cradle him in his arms as Loki nuzzles into his neck.
Yes, as long as he has Tony, he'll always be alright.
Please review. :)