Warnings this chapter: none... I think.

Hollow Skies - Chapter 11

His house was much the same as it had always been; bright and metal and glass and the sun shining through the wall-spanning windows, the ocean breeze caressing the solid walls of the structure. There was his grand piano in the corner, his pale couch, the stairs that led downstairs to his lab. His lab... But there was another place down there, wasn't there? He stared at nothing a moment, the stairs the only thing in his vision.

No, no, no...

He was suddenly standing there.

There was a door.

A metal door.

It was at the end of a long hallway. But it wasn't long enough. Too close...

He stood at the end of it, staring passed the dim lights that lined the right side of the grey corridor.

He didn't want to go there.

What's in there?

...Dark.

It was dark in there, he was sure. He took a step forward, then another. His legs were like lead, too heavy but still moving on their own.

No!

He didn't want to go there...

Then suddenly he was before the door. The creaking metal seemed to move, ripple- almost alive, but nothing happened. It didn't budge, it didn't open, it only waited. Like death in a corner.

Then a whispered voice behind him and he jerked around.

Nothing.

His breath came in short gasps and his vision blurred.

"Who's there?" he called to the dim hall. His heart beat so fast he thought it would tear through his chest.

Convinced he had imagined the sound he turned back to the metal door. But it was open. He jerked and fell onto his back like a force had hit him when the most terrifying wail screeched out from the blackened nothingness beyond-

Stark woke up so suddenly he would have fallen off the bed- except that he was tied down. Instead he sat upright, arms straining against their restraints, muscles coiling, hurting, pulling. His eyes were too wide, his breath too thin and fast, his heart beating so furiously it would have ripped out of its white-bone cage if it were possible.

He swallowed. Then swallowed again. Sweat dripped down his face and the sheets were wet with it.

"Hey," he called without thinking. Where is everybody? Where... where am I? he wondered, looking around. He attempted to catch his breath while he looked around, trying to calm his nerves by doing something mundane, something familiar.

The room was mostly white and, looking down, he realized he was indeed tied down. What the hell... He pulled at the soft restraints and continued looking around.

"Seriously, what the hell?" he called out again, voice broken and high. He swallowed a third time, throat suddenly so dry. He felt like he hadn't drank water in far too long. For the first time he noticed the IV going into his arm. Did I... was I hurt- did I get hurt? This place somewhat looked like a hospital, but it was strange. There weren't any windows and it was just... wrong for a hospital room. "Hey, anybody?" he said a little louder, leaning a little to look around his bed.

He wore a hospital gown- which still pointed to 'hospital', but he was tied down and didn't seem to have a 'call' button. A weird thought jumped into his head. I've gone insane. I'm in the loony bin, I've been tied down for my own good- all that drinking and partying and life-risking behavior... Pepper was right. Great. I'll never live this down.

"Hey?!" he screamed louder this time.

The door suddenly burst open and a man walked in, but his start and wide eyes at seeing Tony awake told him the man hadn't come in here because of Tony's yelling.

"Oh wow, there is a staff here," said Tony. "Little help-" the man walked out in a rush, closing the door "-or not..." Tony laid back onto the bed with a huff, then yelled to the ceiling. "If this is a prank or something I'm gonna fucking kill you guys!" Nothing. Quiet. "Seriously, guys... Clint! If this is because I left your stupid-ass-"

The door opened again, quietly this time, but Tony still heard it, sitting back up. At seeing Natasha walk in he sighed in relief.

"Finally," he bemoaned, then sighed loudly again. "Romanoff, why the hell am I tied to this bed?" He held up his hands then shook them. She walked over quietly, saying nothing. He frowned. "Or... did I..." he leaned back. "Did I really go crazy?" He stared at her, and wasn't sure if he was really joking or not. "I've gone insane, haven't I? What did I do this time? Walk naked through some bachelorette party uninvited? I apologized last time, and I wasn't even really naked- they were exaggerating..." He eyed her suspiciously when she continued saying nothing. He quirked his jaw. "Seriously your kinda freaking me out right now. You got that 'I'm here to interrogate you' look. Should I be scared? Do I need my lawyer? Are you about to kill me?" he pointed a finger at her.

Well, he thought, this is unnerving. Normally, Natasha didn't laugh at him, or even really smile, but she at least scoffed at him or shook her head, or something; right now she was just sort of looking at him, not staring really, but looking. It was... very weird. She's not a woman you want looking at you like some experimental creature in a petri dish.

Stark looked around, then shot his eyes back to her. "I know I shouldn't bring out the big guns, 'cause you know, you're my friend, but if you don't tell me what the hell's going on right now..." Dramatic pause. "I'm gonna have to tell Pepper," he finished quickly.

Still nothing. Not even a hint of a smile. Now Tony really was getting nervous.

"Tony," she said suddenly and he nearly rolled his eyes in relief. "What was the last thing you remember?"

And what the fuck was that question? "Huh?" he blurted out.

"The last thing you remember." She quirked an eyebrow but remained otherwise stone-faced.

"Uh..." he lowered his head in thought, eyes fixed on the far wall. "I don't... what?" he looked at her, brow furrowed.

"Tony," she sighed.

"Alright, alright!" he tried to hold up his hands in surrender, but couldn't. What the hell happened? "Um..." he really was trying to remember now, but his memory seemed hazy. He closed his eyes. "Me and, uh, let's see... Me and Bruce working on the cube, then..." he cracked one eye open. "We... uh..." Damn! What the hell's wrong with me? Why was his memory so muddled? Then it jumped into his head so suddenly he nearly spit the word out. "Loki!" Now this got a reaction from her, her eyebrows lifting a little. "Bruce, uh, Bruce had already left, he had some kind of... shit, something he had to do overseas, then..." He shook his head, as if that would jog his memory. "Yeah, yeah... Loki just popped up in my tower, then," he felt like his brain was actively trying to hide something from him. "I don't know..."

"Take your time..." said Natasha's strangely soothing voice.

He squinted. "Yeah, uh... He- he was in the basement, or... no it was a cell and..." His eyes went wide. "The collar- the collar I made for him, I- I put it on him, and... wait," he looked at the red-head. "Did it work? I mean, did he- did he get away? Did you guys take him?"

Natasha stared at him, face blank. "No. You never told us you had him."

Tony frowned. "What the hell's that mean? Did we- the Avengers, did we keep him there? I mean, I guess it sorta makes sense, Thor not wanting his brother in the hands of such a benevolent spy organization like your... own..." he trailed off at the look in her eyes. The problem was he didn't exactly know what that look meant, but it still creeped him out severely. "So..." he drawled. "So where is he?"

Ignoring his question, she asked something else that caught him completely off-guard. "Stark, what day is it?"

He gave her a blank look. "What... day is it." She nodded, nonplussed. "What... day- uh let's see..." he looked around the room as if it were a really important question, which it wasn't. "The day is: who the fuck cares?! What the hell is going on, Natasha?"

She leaned in closer, suddenly. "Answer my question: what is the date?"

"Um," he leaned back, really confused now. This is just too weird. "It-It's May. May... I-" He grimaced at his memory. "Okay, I don't actually remember the exact date- Don't hit me!" He mockingly turned his head away and closed his eyes, then cracked an eye open when she said nothing.

For the first time her expression was one he was more used to: condescending and ready for an eye-roll any second now. Then she said, "Stark, it's April."

"Huh?" he frowned. "Oh shit, did I invent a time machine and go back in time and that's why I'm strapped to this bed, because future-Tony can't exist in the same place as present-Tony - you're really freaking me out with your face, you know." Because she was so serious again. Her eyes frequently lowered, as if thinking, like there was something on the tip of her tongue.

And when her eyes finally landed on his, so slowly, almost something like pain behind them - although he knew better, this was Natasha. Still... there was something there, and the fact that he, of all people, could tell sent shivers down his spine. His tongue was suddenly too heavy and his mouth hung open, like a door waiting to be slammed shut by whatever might come next.

"Stark," she started, then, "Tony," she said instead, "you've been... gone... nearly a year." His brow creased but he said nothing. "You had Loki that entire time. You put the collar on him - and yes, it did work - and then you moved him to your house in Malibu." Tony blinked, unsure what to think; all he could do was listen, her tone so calm yet so ominous at the same time. "You didn't tell anyone you had him, and you kept him locked in your basement, some kind of cell you built, I guess."

He felt his breath quickening, his heart beginning to beat faster. Basement... cell... dark... His eyes left hers, falling on the blankets at his feet. He finally found his voice, had to say something. "Why... why can't I remember?" He never looked at her, the sheets were all he could see.

"I don't know," she said quietly but firmly. "You hurt him, Tony." His eyes flicked to hers. "You hurt him a lot."

Hurt him... But that wasn't the whole truth, was it? Blue... dark... He closed his eyes, the black behind his eyelids so terrifying, so familiar, but not. What was he seeing? There was something lingering there, something screaming and something else...blue, something eating at him and something scratching at his skin and his eyes and everything hurt, why can't I remember?

And her next words took his breath away. "You raped him. You tortured him. You did it... you did it to him a lot..."

Tony suddenly couldn't breathe- he couldn't breathe. He tried to intake a breath, but he couldn't. His eyes were wide now, looking at her. Panicked. I can't breathe, he wanted to say.

Blue, blue, blue.

Something in his eyes must have screamed at her because her eyes widened in return. "Tony?" she said worriedly.

He opened his mouth like a fish, nothing coming in. His vision blurred.

Blue, blue, blue... I can't see anymore, what is that? Where am I? Who's there? It's not blue like the thing in his chest - a wrong blue, not mine...

He sat up straight, then his voice spoke, "I'm... I'm gonna vomit now." And before he knew it his hands were free and he was moving without his knowledge somewhere... somewhere. There was a toilet in his vision next; ugly yellowed water was there, too. But before he could wash his mouth off, wash it out, he was standing, trying to walk back out, but he couldn't- couldn't because the stain wouldn't go away, his mouth- he would never be clean again. I can't- can't... just have to, get out...

He walked into the room and Natasha's hands, too warm hands were on his arms, steadying him. He pushed her away. No! "No, it's..." he coughed out a laugh. "No, this is bullshit. This is- this is..." he stumbled onto one knee beside the bed, she caught him again, he tried to push her away. "Stop, touching me!" he yelled, but she didn't heed him. Can't breathe. She squatted down next to him and he realized he was sitting on the floor. So cold against him and he wanted to vomit again. "This is a really cruel fucking joke, Nat, this is-" but his face was scrunching up as he tried not to cry- tried so hard not to but the wetness was already spilling. "Fuck," he coughed out and rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Fuck..." It's true isn't it it's true... He knew it was true, but no, it can't be true, but there's too much... too much of it, too much blue... "What the fuck am I saying?!" he suddenly screamed out.

Her hand was still warm on his shoulder. Unmoving, strange. It was his support, he knew, but he couldn't accept it. He was alone and she was alone. Two people alone in a room together. How did that make sense? Nothing would be okay again and he knew it, oh how he knew it. What would happen now? He didn't want to think, there was too much noise in his head and too much darkness- it was so loud it was eerily quiet. There was an expanse surrounding him, midnight broiling like a mass of unending ink, vicious on his skin and inside, too. He grabbed his head with both hands and sat and felt the coldness beneath him and the warmth of the hand on him because he had to hold on. Just hold on, Tony, you idiot, just hold on... But he couldn't make it go away, could he? It was there, and it was waiting.

And somewhere, somewhere so deep he trembled with the hollowness of it, a whispered voice screamed at him: "Shall we play again?"

A/N: For all of you Tony fans out there, hope you liked this Tony-only chapter! And for my Loki fans, no worries, this is still a Loki-centric fic, more with him next chapter. I'd love to hear you guys' thoughts on this chapter. ^^