Warnings this chapter: angst, psychological torture

A/N: The last chapter was kind of a cliffhanger so here's the next chapter, earlier than I thought I'd be posting it. ;)

Hollow Skies - Chapter 3

The god of mischief awoke in darkness. He sighed. My cell then... He tried to sit up, but gasped and changed his mind when pain shot through every inch of his body. He also felt...wet. And because of it, cold. He groaned and winced as even the smallest movement sent shooting pain through every nerve. It was obvious that Stark had decided to both beat and rape him while he was unconscious and Loki was glad he didn't remember any of it. He really didn't expect any less. He had endured both injustices many times during his captivity, but Stark had rarely brutalized him to such an extreme - or at least not recently. Loki couldn't even move, and he could barely breathe, apparently a result of being strangled.

So he lay there while trying to think how long it would take to heal this time. But before he could make an estimation, he lost consciousness again.

Three days later and Loki still wasn't properly healed. He could barely sit, and he certainly couldn't stand. The darkness was eating at him, the quiet solitude even worse. He cursed himself and every instinct in his body for allowing that escape attempt. If he hadn't tried it... He shook his head in the dark. Suddenly every possible scenario ran through his head. What if he had not run? What if, instead, he had killed Stark while he was vulnerable and drunk on the floor? Loki growled at himself, why didn't I? But some part of him shivered at the idea. Next, he scolded himself for not trying the window first. Of course the door would be barred by that JARVIS creature. If he had broken the window, gotten outside... Loki knew he could survive the fall into the water, he'd survived worse falls, after all. But then, Stark would have donned his iron suit and flown after him. Loki shook his head. No, that wouldn't work either.

There were so many possibilities, yet all lead to one conclusion: recapture.

Loki laughed and cried at his stupidity. Why did I not consider all this earlier? If he had, he could have avoided even attempting escape in the first place, or at least come up with a better plan that didn't involve such mindless 'run run and run some more' tactics. It was a plan someone like Thor would come up-

His body went rigid. No.

He didn't want to think about him, about his brother who hadn't rescued him. Not his fault not his fault. But it didn't matter. Loki painstakingly moved onto his side and curled into a ball. It hurt to cry, the ache spreading across his torso with each sob, but he didn't care, he wanted to cry. Why hasn't he saved me? All through their lives, every time Loki had gotten into trouble, Thor was there to get him out. Of course, the thunder god's solution to everything was smash first with hammer and deal with the consequences later, but right now, Loki wanted that. He had often wondered why Thor hadn't come, why he hadn't come smashing through the door, that ridiculous red cape flowing in the wind.

At first Loki had thought it was because Thor thought it a just punishment for the trickster's misdeeds, but he quickly abandoned that reasoning; he knew Thor would never allow such a terrible fate to befall his little brother. So then Loki had realized something, why Heimdall probably couldn't see him and therefore why Thor hadn't come. The collar. Somehow the collar had locked in the spell Loki often used to hide himself from the all-seeing gatekeeper. The first few days of his imprisonment, before the collar, he had expected to escape, so he continued hiding himself from Heimdall. And it was too late to reverse the spell after the infernal metal was around his neck. Oh how Loki hated the thing.

Two more days passed and Stark had not come to visit. Strange, Loki thought, but he didn't mind since he needed the rest to fully heal. Only for that sadistic mortal to ruin my time spent healing.

Another two days and the engineer had not shown his face. Loki was becoming worried. Is this some new punishment? He was almost fully healed now as he paced his perpetually dark cell, the metal leash sliding across the floor as he moved.

Over a week passed by and Loki was becoming very worried. Where is he? He's never left me in here this long. Is he coming back?

Loki scolded himself. Why would you want him to come back? Miss his company, do you? He smirked then laughed, although it was humorless and nervous.

After the second week Loki began feeling like a trapped animal, trapped in the dark, no way out. No way out, too dark, no way out. He shook his head and wrung his hands, curled in his corner. He can't just leave me here, can he? He wouldn't! Stark didn't seem the type of man to control himself - surely he would burst in here in one of his drunken moods and assault Loki as he always had.

The darkness was eating at him.

No, this a good thing, Loki told himself. He was hungry and thirsty, certainly, but at least he was no longer in pain. The collar and chain still chafed his neck, but that was the only discomfort. The cold he had long become accustomed to...but the darkness, the darkness...

Yes, a good thing; no more visits, no more pain.

Loki smiled madly at his own reasoning.

Another two weeks passed, although Loki had lost track of time a long time ago. He scratched at the walls and broke his nails leaving bloody trails everywhere he went. The floor was too hard - or maybe it's too soft?

Too quiet.

There was a smell in the air, like copper, when did Stark put copper in here? Was I sleeping?

Too quiet too loud.

The air was thin, like strings, seeping in his ears. There were noises when he slept, but when he awoke there was only silence.

So quiet so loud so quiet so loud quiet loud quietloudquiet-

If Loki could keep track of time, he would have known that another month had passed. But he didn't care about time, there was only the dark and the cold and the noises while he slept. He wasn't sure where his body ended and the darkness began. The stifling black was bleeding into him, he knew it was. You'll never get in here! I won't allow it! He scratched and clawed at something, anything, nothing, trying to keep the dark out.

And the noises... "Shut up!" he screamed angrily to the red and brilliant air. "Shut up shut up shut up!" He was gripping his hair, his head. "No more! I won't let you in! He said you can't get in! There are rules, you know!"

He fell to the floor, pounding his fists on the moving ground - or maybe it was the ceiling?

Little legs crawled up his spine, ate into his flesh. They were living in there, he was sure of it. So he scratched the little things out, and he laughed when he felt wetness on his fingers.

"I got them out!" he screamed to his fingers. "We did it together." He smiled with too many teeth and round vicious eyes in the dark.

The amount of time Loki had been trapped in his cell he didn't know, and he couldn't. But on an unnamed day, and suddenly, there was a familiar beeping sound followed by the metal grinding of a door swinging open. The figure in the doorway stood still, unmoving. His silhouette was seen by no one, since the body on the floor hadn't moved.

Lights.

Brightness.

The body jerked, then scrambled to shield itself from the assault on his eyes. Next, it screamed. A scream that was more of a wail from a disused throat that rattled and shrank and bounced clumsily off the walls.

The inventor stepped inside, steady footfalls coming closer to the trickster.

The god on the floor didn't open his eyes, but angled his head toward the approaching figure with a shark grin, "I-I kept them out," he croaked. "They didn't- I didn't let them in. You'll be happy. I kept them out." His eyes remained closed as he curled in on himself.

The man with the blue light in his chest said nothing.

There was a sound of liquid sloshing and something wet on dry lips, but Loki's slight movement wasn't his choice. His instincts accepted the small bit of water on his lips without question, and then, a few hours later, an equally small amount of food. It didn't register in his mind until the next day, when the man with the light in his chest returned.

Stark?

Three days of strange constant brightness passed by the trickster as he slowly came back to himself. The blinding lights above hadn't turned off for those three days, and the man of iron visited once each day to feed the mischief god. It was strange and unfamiliar to Loki, but he accepted the morsels and the water without hesitation. His vision was slowly returning, becoming accustomed to the light once again, and for the first time, he saw the red.

Red. Red. Red. Everywhere red. And underneath that, darker reds filled with sanguine sorrows.

His own blood covered the walls and floors - and somehow the ceiling - and on the fourth day he felt the familiar spray of water used to clean him. He didn't resist and he didn't scream, although he couldn't help but shy away from the cold and harsh onslaught of water. Even so, it was strangely welcome; the act echoed of a past less oppressively dark.

The stains never fully disappeared, but the fresh grime and blood washed away, and Loki could breathe again. He felt new, different.

He thanked the mortal for coming back for him, and he wanted to beg him to never leave again.

For the first time in four days, the inventor spoke, "I need you to never do that again."

Loki blinked at the mortal, who was standing several steps away with arms crossed. "D-Do w-what again?" His voice was hoarse and scratchy, so long without speech. The trickster god honestly had no idea what he meant. Why won't he come closer?

Stark tilted his head, his face expressionless. "Try to run away."

Realization dawned on Loki, the thought of escape hadn't even crossed his mind. He nodded his head fervently, "I won't, I won't." The mortals eyes narrowed, as if trying to find a lie in the pale face. "I-I-I won't, I promise. Y-you came back, I don't want you to ever go away again." Loki was crying now, he didn't know why. "Please, please don't leave me again."

Stark nodded and backed away toward the door. "Okay," he said.

"Y-y-you're leaving?" Loki asked anxiously, sitting up straight, wiping his eyes.

"Yeah. I've got work to do."

Loki perked up at that, remembering something...something good about working. "C-can I come-" he bowed his head and shrunk into himself a little, knowing Stark wasn't likely to allow him out of his cell again.

Stark scrutinized the god for a moment, thinking. "Are you going to try to escape again?"

Loki shook his head so fiercely he was afraid it would fall off. "No, no more, no no no no. I-I-I'll do what you want, what you say, anything, anything you say." He stared at the floor with wide pleading tear-filled eyes, "Please?"

After a long moment the mortal finally nodded and Loki heard a sound he was sure he recognized but couldn't remember, of metal releasing metal. Then, the end of his chain was in Stark's hand, leading him out.

A/N: Seems Loki's developed a bit of Stockholm syndrome now. And after doing a little bit of research, it appears I unintentionally presented a form of torture called "white torture", yikes. Needless to say, I'm a little creeped out, lol.