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Chapter Text

Nick Fury had his triple-charged tranquilizer gun ready from the moment Thor vanished in a streak of blue light, leaving them with his homicidal, not-quite-brother. At least the god of thunder had stuck around long enough to escort Loki to the designated holding site. Thor had claimed the Asgardian cuffs neutralized Loki’s magic, making him no problem to contain. But Fury had seen Manhattan in ruins and a recording of Stark tumbling out of a skyscraper window, so he wasn’t very optimistic.

So far, the would-be dictator was unsettlingly compliant. It made Fury’s trigger finger twitch.

They had gone old-school with a hood over the head, denying the maniac a single glance at the facility. Loki barely reacted, granted he was still muzzled, so nothing verbal was within his capabilities. He didn’t resist the short, heavy chains hobbling his limbs either. Two of Fury’s largest agents hauled him forward, with another dozen surrounding them, electrical batons at the ready. The restraints looked almost comical over his polished green-and-gold leather.

With no incidents they reached the transfer room – secure and big enough so the small army of agents could surround their resident alien psychopath as Fury introduced him to his new reality.

Doctor Fenner was waiting. She gave Fury a crisp nod, though her eyes widened when Loki was positioned at the centre, flanked on all sides. Although, it was tempting to offer Loki some special hospitality, Fury decided to stick to ordinary war-criminal procedure, therefore the doctor’s presence.

Fury handed off the tranquilizer rifle. He scanned the room, one wordless check to confirm readiness, then signalled the hood off.

Loki flinched, squinting, and Fury allowed himself a thin smirk. The brightness was deliberate. Sadly, Loki recovered quickly. He scanned the room with a posed lack of interest before locking his eyes with Fury. It would’ve been a lie to say it was to no satisfaction seeing the bastard humbled by the muzzle. Fury decided to indulge his sadistic side a little longer.

“You so much as look at me sideways, and every agent here will electrocute you until you are no more than a drooling mess,” Fury said. “Clear?”

Loki inclined his head.

“Remove the chains,” Fury ordered without breaking the eye contact with Loki. “Don’t you dare to move.”

The agents worked fast, stripping away the restraints and stacking them aside. Only the thick Asgardian bands left at his wrists. Loki let his arms fall to the sides, no attempt at defiance. Which was likely to change after the next order.

“Strip and change into your new, just as glorious uniform,” Fury said. A guard tossed a folded bundle at Loki’s feet. “Slow movements.”

To Fury’s mild surprise, Loki complied without hesitation. He began unbuckling his chest piece very slowly, likely to annoy Fury. Thor had warned that his not-brother liked to twist words. He didn’t so much as reach for the muzzle. Thor had explained the enchantment prevented removal, but still, Fury had expected at least an attempt.

One layer came off. Then another. Piece by piece, Loki dismantled his regal costume until he stood in a thin, long-sleeved tunic. Fucking aliens and their love for layers…Finally, stripped the armguards and gloves, then the shirt itself.

Several agents gasped.

Loki looked like a corpse that should be on an autopsy table.

His ribs stood out sharp beneath the skin, each bone framed by deep, near-black bruises as if painted in blood. Cuts ran across him in no particular order, some raw and fresh, others faded into jagged scars. One shoulder was swallowed by a bruise so dark it seemed almost rotten. Only a few pale patches on his arms escaped the damage. And beneath it all, the so-called conqueror had the hollow look of someone who hadn’t had a full meal in months.

“Director,” Fenner breathed, horrified.

“Yes,” Fury sighed, accepting the change of plans. They were supposed to give Thor his not-brother alive. “Go prepare.”

Loki continued undressing, somehow removing his heavy boots and currently struggling with leather pants. He shouldn’t be able to bend over, to function, and withstand transport without as much as a single grunt. He’d concealed it perfectly. Too slow movements weren’t just a show of compliance after all.

“Stop.”

Loki lifted one eyebrow, unfazed to be standing in just his undergarments in a room full of people ready to electrocute him. Fury noted the right ankle was swollen, yet there had been no limp in his step.

Fury sighed. Keeping him muzzled through medical would be counterproductive.

“Not. A move.”

He walked around the god and reached for the muzzle’s clasp. Loki tensed when Fury’s hand brushed him, but nothing more. The device swiftly retracted into his hand, and he slipped it into his pocket to use later in case the bastard wasn’t acting appreciative of his gesture.

Loki cleared his throat and worked his jaw as Fury took his old position.

“That,” Fury said with a pointed look at Loki’s chest, “would be lethal for a human.”

“Good to know, director,” Loki said, his voice rough from disuse but otherwise just as self-assured as before. “May I dress?”

“You are going to a medical,” Fury said.

“Do I get a say?” Loki asked.

An agent returned with a thin hospital clothes and a reinforced shock collar.

“As much as I’m going to enjoy this, it is a standard procedure for inmates with your death count. That collar’s kick’s been adjusted for you. You twitch the wrong way, and I’ll zap you first, ask questions later.”

Loki exhaled. “I will take that as a no.”

Loki was still barely able to form a coherent thought, so maybe that’s why he actually put on Fury’s ridiculous paper garment. He just wanted to be left alone. He was so tired. Cooperation with mortal customs seemed, at present, the most efficient way forward. Better to comply than risk electrocution when his barely mended spine already sent lightning of its own through him.

So far, they were courtesies jailers. Although, the bar was pitifully low after being the honoured guest of the Sanctuary.

Norns… His mind was in shambles.

“Hands,” Fury ordered. Loki complied. One of the masked agents put a sturdy piece of metal just above the magic suppressors. “Now necklace, Your Highness.”

Loki allowed the agent with a build of Thor put the collar around his neck. It clicked and tightened but not to the point of restricting his airflow. Small mercies. He could mostly ignore two sharp spikes that dug in the side of his neck.

“Hood.”

Loki found himself relieved by the darkness. The lights only aggravated his piercing headache. It felt like there was a hole in his skull where the link from the sceptre used to be.

They moved him through corridors. No leg chains this time, only cuffs and the escort. Loki focused on each step, on the rhythm of boots and breath, anything to keep from thinking of what had truly happened. He was too exhausted to remember.

The hood came off. The medical room spread around him – bright, clinical, lined with agents at their posts.

A small mortal woman in a white coat and round spectacles stepped forward. Loki recognized her from before, when he had been stripped of armour.

“My name is Doctor Fenner. I will conduct your medical,” she said evenly. “You may inquire if any procedure is unclear. Cooperate, and there will be no unnecessary force.”

Loki huffed weakly, too tired and hurting for a proper snicker.

“You should be glad we are treating you as if you were a human prisoner. In theory, I could dump you into a dark hole to rot without breaking any laws about humane treatment.”

“I’m touched, director.”

“Was there anything funny in what Doctor Fenner just said?” Fury asked, his finger resting on the button that would trigger the collar.

Loki exhaled slowly. The mortal woman was clearly terrified but hiding it admirably. All he needed was time, to recover, to get his mind in order, and rebuild his magic reserves. It would be stupid to reject mortals’ assistance in physical healing. It was bizarre they had offered it in the first place.

“Pleasure, Doctor Fenner,” Loki said with a slight incline of his head. “I’m Loki of Asgard. I was merely amused by the fact that due to my limited familiarity with your planet, every procedure shall be unclear.”

“Better,” Fury commented.

“I will explain as we go,” Doctor Fenner said and glanced at Fury. “We will start with X-ray and MRI. I need to assess the extent of the internal damage under all that bruising. We’ll also check for fractures, internal bleeding, and organ function.”

The guards moved him toward a side room, Fury and his hellish remote close behind. Norns… those flimsy garments were undignified. Still, Loki hurt enough to hope mortal medicine might provide some reprieve.

“The machine will let me see the inside of your body without direct contact or incisions,” Doctor Fenner began the promised explanation. “It’s painless, but the noise and enclosed space make it uncomfortable. It will take no longer than ten minutes. You must lie perfectly still the entire time.”

Loki stared at the odd machine behind the glass panel. He assumed it was mortals’ attempt at constructing a soul forge. Or this all was a jest, and it was a torture device. The tunnel looked rather unnerving.

A small mortal man in the corner spoke up, eyes darting away. “Uh… should I prepare restraints?”

Doctor Fenner looked at Fury for an answer, so Loki did the same with his eyebrow lifted in his best expression of polite interest. Actively taking part in this peculiar situation was the easiest way to ignore the wave of distorted memories pouring into his mind.

“They aren’t going to hold if he really tries,” Fury said matter-of-factly. “Will you continue to be a good, docile prisoner?”

“That seems the most sensible course of action in my current position,” Loki replied.

“Let’s pretend we believe our resident God of Lies,” Fury said. “Everyone remains on high alert.”

They moved through another door into the scanning room, agents crowding the space.

“During the procedure, you’ll be alone in this room,” Fenner said. “I’ll give instructions over the speakers, and we’ll be able to see and hear you inside the machine. Any questions?”

Loki’s gaze lingered on the tunnel. “What happens if I move?”

“The images will be ruined, and we’ll have to start over,” Fenner said evenly. “It won’t damage the machine, and it won’t harm you. But it will waste time. Anything else?”

“No.”

“Do you have any metal implants, fragments, or anything magnetic in your body? This can interfere or even injure you.”

Loki slowly showed his cuffed hands. “Only those.”

Doctor Fenner turned back to Fury. “The cuffs need to be removed, collar too, but that can wait until the last moment.”

One of the agents removed the sturdy cuffs.

“Those too,” Fenner said, nodding at the thick bands.

“Not a chance,” Fury said. “Anti-magic cuffs are a permanent fit.”

Fenner’s brow furrowed. “What are they made of?”

Fury shrugged. “Something Asgardian and magic-blocking.”

Loki rolled his eyes, a motion that only deepened the pounding behind them. “It’s uru. I don’t believe you have it on Midgard.”

Fenner pinched the bridge of her nose. “I have no idea how such metal might react. It’s a risk but without the scans I’m in the dark.”

“Uru has no magnetic properties,” Loki offered. “If that’s what disturbs your machine.”

“My gut tells me to not believe you,” Fury said, arms folded, finger still resting on the button. “You’re suddenly so eager to enlighten us, dull mortals?”

“It’s in my best interest,” Loki replied evenly, “that your contraption does not explode while I’m inside it, director.”

Doctor Fenner sighed heavily and looked at him. “Loki, do you wish to proceed, knowing the potential risk?”

“Director Fury made it rather clear I’m denied a choice.”

“You get this one,” Fenner said, rather sharply. Surprisinly, Fury didn’t object.

Loki reached inward for his magic and immediately cringed. It was gone, utterly drained. He hadn’t come to Midgard in good shape, and then the beast had tossed him around like a ragdoll. His body was in a wretched state, and he had no access to his power to aid healing.

“I’m yours to command, doctor,” Loki said with an incline of his head. His back hurt too much to bow for a better effect. “I doubt your machine will affect uru.”

Mortal medicine was already primitive. It was in his best interest to not sabotage their efforts.

“All right.” Fenner clicked a sequence of buttons, bringing the device to life. “You must signal immediately if anything about those cuffs doesn’t feel right.”

Loki smiled faintly. “They already feel far from right, doctor.”

“Don’t get smart,” Fury reproached, as expected.

Maybe annoying the director wasn’t in his best interest but it made him feel almost normal. As if the past months – or was it years? – hadn’t happened. The risk worth taking to maintain in illusion of sanity. In front of the mortals and himself.

“Take these.” Fenner handed him two small, odd devices. “Earplugs for the noise. They have speakers so you’ll be able to hear my instructions. Please put them in.”

The curious things moulded to his ears, muting the sounds around him. A moment later, her voice came directly inside his head, instructing him to approach the cot and lie down. Not the most pleasant sensation with the mind control still fresh in his memory.

When he obeyed, every agent in the room raised their weapons while the bulky man stepped forward to remove the collar.

Loki huffed as the mortals filed out, leaving him lying on the table and feeling incredibly foolish.

“Do not move,” Fenner said in his ear. “It’s going to start and get loud.”

The horrendous noise hit him like a hammer, making him flinch. The vibrations clawed at his skull, rattling through his already bruised spine. His temples throbbed as if someone were striking them from the inside, each pulse of sound a spike through bone.

“Is something wrong?” Fenner asked. Her voice, though thin and disembodied, cut briefly through the mechanical pounding. “You may speak.”

Loki forced a few measured breaths before replying. “Will this get any louder?”

“No,” Fenner said. “It’s unpleasant but shouldn’t be painful. Is the noise causing you pain?”

“It’s bearable,” Loki said through clenched teeth. “I was not expecting such a sensation. Please, continue.”

The bed slid into the tunnel, and the noise grew worse. Loki kept his face blank, knowing mortals were watching through their cameras. Fenner seemed sincere, so he doubted the torment was intentional. But he would give Fury neither satisfaction nor ideas.

They had never used noise on Sanctuary. Or perhaps they had. His memories were blurred.

At last, the pounding ceased, and the table slid back out of the tunnel.

“Sit up. Don’t move.” Fury’s order this time.

Agents flooded back into the room and swiftly replaced the collar. Loki let them – he preferred one finger on a button to half a dozen twitchy guns aimed at him. Yet, despite the collar’s return, the weapons stayed trained on him. He hadn’t disobeyed once. Why must mortals be so inconsistent, so confusing?

He removed the useless earplugs without waiting for a command. He wasn’t shot or electrocuted for it, which struck him as unusually courteous of mortals.

Fury stood thoughtful but still ready on the trigger. Doctor Fenner’s face carried a strained, apologetic edge.

“It seems your hearing is sensitive to the frequencies the machine produces,” Doctor Fenner said evenly, keeping her distance. “For humans, it is only loud. I had no way of knowing this would hurt you. That was not my intention. I apologize.”

Those baffling creatures… Loki would’ve been more intrigued if his headache hadn’t doubled and the phantom ringing wasn’t still gnawing at his ears.

“At least those cursed things did not explode,” Loki noted dryly, staring at the bands. “Or break, regrettably.”

Fury narrowed his single eye. “You thought the machine could break them?”

“Maybe hoped,” Loki admitted, ignoring how his remark made several agents adjust their aim. “Believed it would? Not at all.”

“Did the noise do any lasting damage?” Fenner asked.

“It worsened the headache that was already there,” Loki said, then shifted his gaze to Fury. “Please, tell me, Director, why are your agents still aiming at me with their entire arsenal, when before this ordeal you trusted in that little remote?”

“I’d hate to make you feel too comfortable,” Fury said dryly.

“Worry not, Director,” Loki said. “I’m far from that.”

“Escort him to the main room,” Fenner said.

The agents cuffed his arms only to lead him a couple of steps to the previous room. They made him lay down on a half-reclined bed and Loki had to hide how much relief the position gave. It was short lived as another agent approached the bed with a rather complicated set of straps and manacles.

“Wait,” Fenner said. “He’s injured all over. Re-strapping every time will be more trouble than it’s worth.” She turned to Loki. “I’m willing to leave you unstrapped if you continue cooperating… A single grain of trust, after you endured the scans calmly.”

The woman reminded Loki of palace healers from his childhood – so fond of bargains and little deals.

He offered her a polite smile. “I shall nurture that grain and hope it blossoms into something beautiful.”

Fury gave a curt nod, and the agents withdrew. Another nod, and the cuffs came off too. Loki folded his arms across his stomach, watching the doctor, who no longer seemed entirely confident in her choice.

“Doctor, I understand that having your safety dependent on one-eyed man’s reflex can be rather perturbing, and that you have absolutely no reason to believe my word… But for what it’s worth, I promise not to harm you or act untoward. I appreciate your willingness to treat me regardless of what has occurred.”

Fenner blinked, taken aback. Loki would’ve enjoyed this interaction much more if not the forsaken headache.

“I’m this close to putting the muzzle back on, Prince Charmer,” Fury said.

“Oh, forgive me,” Loki replied with mock remorse, hand on his chest despite the ache. “I did not realize politeness was frowned upon in your realm.”

Fury exhaled slowly. “You are frowned upon in my realm.”

Doctor Fenner began her exam, attaching sensors and explaining each step as she went. Loki barely listened. Exhaustion was catching up on him way too quickly. He bristled a little when the doctor drew blood from the pit of his elbow but didn’t try to object. The beeping of another machine irritated him greatly. And the woman’s requests to follow her fingers with his eyes multiple times were simply ridiculous.

“The problem is we only have Thor’s medical to compare him to,” the doctor said addressing her assistant and Fury. “One set of data is not enough to determine safe ranges. By human standards he’s hypothermic, whereas Thor’s readings showed an elevated body temperature. He’s tachycardic, and his oxygen saturation is strange. Oddly, I’m not seeing signs of concussion. Given the extent of the bruising, I won’t palpate his abdomen without the scans first.”

Her assistant glanced at the tablet. “Scans will be ready in a moment.”

“Thank you,” Fenner said automatically. “Shallow breathing, but I don’t think we’re looking at a collapsed lung. Signs of malnourishment.”

Fury’s voice was flat when he finally spoke. “Is he going to die if I dump him into a cell?”

Loki huffed weakly at the bluntness. He rather appreciated the man’s honesty.

“I need to see the scans,” Fenner replied. “For now, he seems stable.”

“Stable is good enough,” Fury said. “I just want him alive when Thor comes back. I’m not opening a villain sanatorium.”

“I’ve uploaded the scans, doctor,” the assistant informed.

“Put them on the big screen,” Fenner ordered.

A monitor was rolled closer to the bed. Loki, despite the headache, found himself curious about this Midgardian contraption. A bluish picture of a skeleton – his skeleton – spun on the screen. Various parts of his body were covered with red pulsing dots. It wasn’t hard to figure out they marked broken bones. There were more of them than Loki had expected.

Fenner’s eyes widened. She cleared her throat.

“Twelve fractured ribs, three broken fingers in his left hand, one in his right hand, fractured radius, shattered left ankle. And… I don’t understand what I’m looking at. L1 and T12 show signs of recent fracture that should leave a human paralyzed at best. He… he shouldn’t be walking. Or breathing normally with that ribcage.”

“I’m more durable than a human, Doctor Fenner.”

“And harder to injure,” she shot back. “What happened to cause this?”

Loki glared at Fury, not sure if the man knew the details. “Your green beast made a few holes in Stark’s floor swinging my body like Thor’s hammer.”

“And you just got up like it was an ordinary Tuesday?” Fury asked.

“I am not a mortal. I can ignore pain and injuries when I must.”

“This isn’t helping, Director,” Fenner cut in sharply. She turned to Loki. “Tell me how your spine feels. Somehow it looks both freshly injured and five weeks into healing. It makes zero sense.”

“The beast broke my spine,” Loki said evenly. “I accelerated the healing with my magic. It was taxing and I was unable to heal myself completely. A broken spine is not something even Thor could just walk off.”

“And now you no longer have access to your magic.”

Loki inclined his head. “Precisely.”

“He is not getting out of those cuffs,” Fury said. “Even if I lost my mind, only Thor can remove them. Another insurance his little brother doesn’t play any tricks on us.”

The doctor rubbed her face and looked back at Loki. “Describe the sensation, so I have something to work with.”

Loki glanced at the masked guards with their batons. “Like electricity running through it with no release.”

“Constant, or only when you move?”

“Sharper when I move.”

Fury narrowed his eyes. “Are you playing for pity?”

“Director, we have the scans, for god’s sake,” the doctor snapped. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around him being coherent. Durable or not, he has pain receptors.”

“Let me remind you,” Loki said calmly, “I was ready to go to my cell. I did not ask for this.”

Another scan flickered onto the screen.

“It’s hard to believe but there’s only mild internal bleeding in his abdomen,” the doctor said relieved. “No bleeding in the brain. Left shoulder is a mess and if he were human, it would hang limply at his side.”

“Fortunately,” Loki shrugged that shoulder. The sharp pain was worth seeing Fenner’s astonishment. “I’m not.”

Fenner took a deep breath before turning away from the screen back to Loki.

“I’m going to clean all cuts and make sure your bones are aligned properly. I’m willing to experiment with pain medication that would work for you. As for… Wait. You healed yourself. Do you have medical knowledge or… your culture’s equivalent of it?”

“I’m decently versed in the art of magical healing.” Loki brushed the cuff on his wrists. “Unfortunately, not within my abilities at the moment.” He glanced at Fury. “Pity… I could’ve been persuaded into some charity work.”

“Over my dead body I would let you anywhere close my injured agent.”

Loki smiled with teeth. “That could be easily arranged.”

The vein in Fury’s neck jumped, so Loki lifted his hands in a pacifying gesture. That was probably the closest to getting electrocuted he had gotten so far.

“You asked for this one, director. Serious threats to your life were not intention of mine.”

The doctor ignored their antics. “What about non-magical healing?”

“I do possess basic understanding.”

“Without magic, how would you approach your state?”

Loki considered the question. He couldn’t help growing fond of the mortal doctor. Not many masters of their craft were confident enough to admit unknowing and ask for the expertise of another.

“What you proposed is perfectly adequate,” Loki said. “I shall heal faster than a mortal even without my magic – given that His Grace Director Fury can refrain himself for showing me excessive amounts tough love in this prison of his.”

“Keep talking and I will not refrain myself from putting the muzzle back on.”

Loki sighed theatrically and turned to the doctor. “Tough love I shall receive, I’m afraid.”

“Normally, I would put your arm in a cast, brace your fingers, and operate on that ankle and shoulder… but you weren’t even limping,” Fenner said.

“Simply ensuring everything is aligned properly would be most gracious. I had no chance to do it myself,” Loki admitted, staring at a crooked finger in his hand. He couldn’t recall when that happened. “Although… I wouldn’t oppose having my ribcage wrapped. Feeling them shift is rather unpleasant.”

The doctor wrote something in her smaller electronic screen.

“What about the spine?”

The headache from the scanner was slowly fading, but exhaustion was only growing heavier. “Believe it or not, doctor, it’s my first time with a broken spine.”

On the Sanctuary, they had dealt with pain, but never allowed their toys to break permanently.

“Serves you right for invading my planet,” Fury commented.

“Well… It’s my first time treating a case like this,” Fenner said, deep in thought. She seemed to forget to be afraid of him, feeling comfortable in her field. “I’ll design you a brace that minimizes movement of the fractured vertebrae. It will be ready tomorrow. Until then, be very careful. We have no means to put you back together.”

Loki nodded, for once without sarcasm. It had been terrifying to come to his senses, confused and finally free, only to realize that he couldn’t move his legs, and that everything hurt as if tortures had never stopped.

“Director, make sure your agents are aware of his ailment,” Fenner said firmly. “No roughhousing.”

Loki expected a protest, but Fury surprised him with a nod. “Loki continues to be an obedient fallen god, and he will be given time to lick his wounds.”

“And here I thought you weren’t a kind man, director. My sincere apologies.”

“Is there anything else bothering you that we haven’t discussed?” Fenner asked.

A whole pile of memories he wasn’t sure had truly happened or were illusions. The raw wound in his mind where the spectre’s anchors had been for so long. The fact that, with his magic blocked, he couldn’t shield it properly. It would have been child’s play to enslave him again. Worse still, he seemed to recall several different versions of what had happened even before the fall…

“No,” Loki said.

He would make sense of all of this. In time.

Until then, silence was safer. He would not speak when he could not be sure whether he lied or not. All he could do was hope the mortals had no plans for interrogations. He was too exhausted to deal with his broken mind while having his body broken further.

He needed to restore his magic reserves. And the process wouldn’t start while his body would soak every drop of magic that would come back to him.

He needed to heal. And mortals seemed to be offering exactly that.

Chapter Text

The cell turned out to be unexpectedly adequate.

Three solid grey walls, one concealing a bathing nook, and a thick glass panel that served as a door. A mattress rested atop a knee-high pedestal against the far wall, accompanied by a small table and a single chair. Loki blinked to make sure it wasn’t another trick of his mind when he noticed a pillow and a neatly folded blanket at the foot of the bed.

He turned to face the director, who stepped inside just behind him, the rest of the guards crowding the narrow corridor outside.

“Do you like the décor?” Fury asked.

“That’s my favorite shade of gray, director.”

“Then I’ll have it repainted,” Fury said, sounding rather serious. “From now on, your pathetic life happens in this cell. You eat here. You shit here. Doctor Fenner makes sure you are not dying here. Cameras watch your every move, and there are multiple security measures ready to deploy if you try something I don’t like. One of them being a vent system packed with elephant sedative.”

Loki tilted his head. “What is an elephant?”

He knew it was some Midgardian animal. More importantly, he knew the question would annoy Fury but not to the point of electrocution. Some of the masked agents even chuckled, disguising it poorly as coughs.

“Fucking uneducated aliens,” Fury muttered. “Back to my point. Other security measures you are welcome to test yourself. I would love to see the footage. Also, the moment you step out of line, that mattress is gone and you sleep on concrete until Thor takes your sorry ass back to Spacegard. That would suck with your back problems, wouldn’t it?”

Loki brought his cuffed hands up to his chest in mockery. “Oh no, director. Anything but that… Too cruel.”

“About that,” Fury continued, unfazed by a little of theatre, “the necklace stays until Doctor Fenner is done with you. Supposedly it’s waterproof, but I don’t think anyone’s actually tested that.”

That implied Fury intended to remove the collar at some point, which was not something Loki had expected. He wasn’t especially troubled by it. The spikes digging into the side of his neck were uncomfortable but not sharp enough to tear his skin. The indignity was far on the list of his worries at the moment.

“Director Fury, I’m beginning to suspect you enjoy my company,” Loki said, the strain in his voice carefully masked. He was growing exhausted, but he wouldn’t let the mortals see just how wretched he felt. “I’m certain one more bed could fit into my humble estate. Then we could converse all night long.”

“We will see if you are this smart after months in solitary,” Fury said with a satisfied smirk. Then ordered, “Hands.”

Loki frowned at the command but offered his cuffed hands. A larger agent stepped forward and removed the restraints, which was another surprise. There were no such courtesies on Sanctuary if his scraps of memories were to be believed.

Finally, Fury exited, and the thick glass panel sealed into the floor with a hiss. Loki folded his hands behind his back and waited for the hall to empty before lowering himself slowly onto the bed.

He closed his eyes and drew a slow breath.

His mind was free and it was all that mattered. Ripped to shreds, but free.

Fury was drowning in documentation. Very few forms required only his signature. Most needed to be written, reviewed, and then double-checked… Earth has never faced a fucking alien invasion before, so there were no templates for any of this. It was chaos. To make matters worse, Stark kept texting him on a private number Fury had never given him, nagging about SHIELD compensating for the damage to his precious tower.

As if his monthly revenue wouldn’t build him a completely new one.

On the side screen, live footage from Loki’s cell kept catching Fury’s eye every other sentence he forced himself to read.

Agreeing to this, Fury had expected that they would have to keep Loki in check by brute force. He had a team of techs assembling that super-charged batons overnight after Thor told them that lightning has always been an effective way of pacifying their kind. Fury had expected the first days to be full of electricity until the bastard learned that the only way to avoid that was complete obedience.

It had turned out nothing like Fury had expected.

Lethal injuries that he had flawlessly hidden aside, his behavior was strange. Almost content with his predicament. Not bitter about the failure of his glorious plan. Fury couldn’t even find much to berate him for. The bastard was a perfectly compliant prisoner, articulate and polite in a way Fury hadn’t anticipated after meeting Thor. So far, Loki acted in a way that made it easy to forget this was the same psychopath who had tried to enslave humanity only days ago.

His moniker – the god of lies – hadn’t come from nowhere.

Fury kept staring at the feed, waiting for the illusion to end. But it didn’t.

Hours had passed since Loki had been deposited in the cell. He hadn’t moved a muscle since lying down. Understandable, considering the extent of his injuries. The sensors reported that, despite closed eyes, the bastard wasn’t sleeping. His heart rate kept spiking for no visible reason.

Fury had planned to interrogate him – motives, allies, where the space-bug army had come from, what dangers were still out there. It would be wasteful to leave Loki to rot until Asgard fixed their rainbow laser and hauled him back. But with this unexpected development, it made more sense to wait. First, understand this version of their resident would-be dictator – the less megalomaniacal, strangely subdued one.

For now, they had new information from Thor and their own research to make on the corpses of space whales. Also, most information Loki had to offer wasn’t verifiable, so nothing they got out of him – voluntarily or less so – would be actually usable.

Still, Fury wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass forever.

He sighed, set a notification to alert him if anything changed on the feed, and turned back to his paperwork. Maybe he really should make Loki handle it himself and call it a well-deserved torture session.

The light inside the cell had dimmed for what must’ve been the night, but for an hour or two it brightened again. Loki rested with an arm draped over his face when a commotion in the hall caught his attention. He hadn’t slept much, if at all – the persistent sensation in his spine refused to yield to exhaustion.

With a grunt, he sat up and peered at the mortals crowding outside the glass. Doctor Fenner and Fury were at the front.

“I’m flattered, director,” Loki said, “but don’t you have other things to do?” He dipped his head to the woman. “Good morning, Doctor.”

“Same rules as yesterday,” Fury said, showing him the remote. “Follow Doctor Fenner’s instructions and keep your movements slow. I’m testy in the mornings.”

“Aren’t we all?” Loki asked humorlessly. “Understood, director.”

The glass wall hissed open. Fenner stepped inside hesitantly, followed by Fury and one agent carrying an electric baton. Loki remained seated as the doctor unpacked her briefcase onto the small table.

She pulled out a compact electronic screen and, keeping her distance, focused on him.

“Do you know how much humans normally eat?”

Loki tilted his head, considering. “More or less.”

“Are your dietary needs symilar? Anything you can’t eat?”

Loki would have never guessed Midgardians were such considerate jailers.

“Hard to tell now that I’m severed from my magic. Otherwise, I would require significantly more sustenance. In my current state, a human diet will most likely suffice.”

The doctor tapped her notes into the screen. Loki turned to Fury.

“The accommodations never cease to amaze me,” he said dryly, “unless these questions are just a test of how much you can deprive me without killing me.”

“They’re not,” Fenner said, her tone carrying the faintest edge of disapproval. “What about my other question?”

Loki considered it, then settled on a half-truth. “Raw meat doesn’t particularly agree with my stomach.” He simply hated the taste.

The doctor noted it down. “That’s all?”

“Yes,” Loki said, wondering if there would be a raw steak in each of his food rations.

“Any pain worse than yesterday? Especially in your stomach, where scans showed minor internal bleeding?”

Loki shook his head. The collar’s spikes dug into his skin, but he ignored them. “All the same.”

“Stand in the middle, so I can see if the brace fits,” Fenner instructed.

Loki complied with a grimace, ignoring Fury and his button as he approached the doctor. He had no intention of harming her, but doubted Fury could react fast enough if he tried.

“The brace is designed so you can remove it yourself,” Fenner said, showing him the odd shape. “With your chest in its current state, it won’t be comfortable, but your spine is the bigger concern. Please, raise your arms—”

“Behind your head,” Fury interjected. “Fingers folded.”

“Anything to please you, director,” Loki said, theatrically folding his fingers before lifting his arms. His shoulder protested sharply, and he couldn’t suppress a wince.

The brace was built around a rigid spine‑shaped piece with wide straps wrapping around his chest and hips. The first push of the hard segment into his back was enough to sour his breath. Each adjustment made it worse. The pressure didn’t settle like normal pain but crawled upward, striking nerves at odd angles

“I’m starting to think it’s an elaborate torture device, director,” Loki said thinly.

Fury shrugged. “In a sense.”

Fenner fastened a thinner strap across his chest, tightening the brace until the rigid panel pressed more firmly into the sore line of his spine.

“It’s molded to ease the healing process,” she explained as she secured another buckle. “The discomfort should lessen with time.”

Loki clenched his teeth as she fixed the final two straps. The shock running along his nerves bounced back and forth with nowhere to escape, as if the brace amplified his injury rather than stabilizing it. Trusting a mortal healer might not have been the wisest decision.

Fenner stepped back and returned to the table. “I strongly advise you not to remove it for at least forty‑eight hours, and after that only for showers. The straps are designed so you can put it on yourself.”

“I was not furnished with a clock,” Loki said through his teeth.

Still holding his arms raised, his hands drifted to his neck, thumbs brushing the cursed collar. His posture slackened despite his effort to remain upright. He glared at Fury and the button in his hand.

“May I lower my arms, oh gracious director?”

Fury studied him for a moment, then nodded. Loki let his arms drop.

Too fast.

It felt like Thor had struck him with lightning. His knees weakened and he staggered back, colliding with the wall. For a moment, he was certain Fury had activated the collar and Loki wanted rip the man’s throat open. Another heartbeat passed, and he realized it was his own body betraying him.

The agents in the hall raised their batons, but Fury didn’t move. His face wasn’t even betraying that he was enjoying the sight.

Fenner cleared her throat. “As I mentioned yesterday, I’m willing to experiment with pain medication that would work for you.”

“I’m not above accepting small mercies,” Loki said.

He needed rest desperately. His magic would recover sluggishly if his body could barely keep itself upright. The cuffs already crippled him, and whatever power returned would turn inward first, mending bone and nerve whether he willed it or not. There was a long, painstaking process ahead before he could even begin to consider outsmarting the restraints.

The time to sort through his own mind, however dreadful the task promised to be.

Loki scanned the room, then fixed his gaze on Fury. “Would you all be terribly affronted if I sat down?”

“Each new movement will be unpleasant,” Fenner warned.

Fury scoffed. “You won’t make me or my agents any less vigilant with those overdone pleasantries. Spare us the theatrics if standing wears you out.”

Loki shuffled to the bed and exhaled through the shockwave of sitting down. “Would you prefer I were boorish to your subordinates, director? Or are you simply irritated that I’ve managed to navigate this imprisonment without giving you a good enough reason to press that button of yours?”

Fury deadpanned, “Guilty as charged.”

“Then I shall continue with civility,” Loki said. “My apologies for being a disappointing captive.”

“Are you done?” Fenner asked, hands on her hips.

Fury shot her a look, so Loki responded with deliberate contrition. “My deepest apologies for letting myself be dragged into the director’s pointless conversation. I would appreciate any remedy you’re willing to offer.”

Fury raised his single eyebrow at him and Loki answerd with one of his court smiles.

Knowing little of mortal medicine, he had no choice but to trust the healer. His gaze followed the wheeled hanger Fenner’s assistant rolled into the cell.

“Is all mortal healing based on attaching objects to one’s body?” he asked.

“Your biology is accelerated compared to a human. A steady IV flow has the best chance of helping. Do you know the concept of addiction?” Fenner asked.

Loki frowned.

“A problem with withdrawing a substance after prolonged use.”

He shook his head. “It’s a wonder you mortals survive long enough to produce offspring.”

Fenner rubbed her temples. “Good. I’d rather not risk accidental morphine dependence. You’ll control the dosage with this button. Find the lowest setting that brings relief. Humans develop tolerance and need more over time. You might as well.”

Loki nodded.

He had already let her cage his spine, a needle and a tube hardly compared. A poison wouldn’t kill him outright, and he doubted that was the intent. Asgard wouldn’t be pleased to not receive their scapegoat back. Despite everything he had done, Fenner wanted to ease his pain. And most surprising of it all – Fury allowed it with all the power to make Loki’s life a misery.

Asgard wouldn’t have been so kind.

“Give me your arm,” Fenner said. “The unbroken one.”

The tiny sting of the butterfly needle barely registered once inside. Fenner secured it with a small dressing, attached the tube, and the clear liquid began to drip from the bag.

“Unhook it if you leave the bed,” she said, and demonstrated the process. “Any questions?”

Loki shook his head.

“I’ll return in the evening with another bag if this works.”

“Thank you, Doctor Fenner.”

The small army of humans departed. The glass wall sealed, leaving him in eerie silence. Only the slow drip of the pain potion broke it. With the brace locked around his chest, he eased himself onto the mattress with all the grace of a collapsing statue and breathed through the current of pain. He touched the button twice to increase the dosage.

He closed his eyes and breathed.

It wasn’t yet time to sort through his mind. The Bifrost was still broken. He had time.

And after the past year, he deserved some Norns damned rest.

“Charming, isn’t he?” Fury said as he and Fenner stepped out onto the ground level of the facility. The doors slid shut behind them with a soft thud, sealing off the hum of the lower floors.

“So far, more pleasant to treat than some of your agents,” Fenner replied, glancing at him sideways. “And spare me the patronizing lecture about remembering what he is and not falling for his looks.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Fury said. He adjusted the collar of his coat, eyes forward. “I’m surprised myself.”

Fenner hummed quietly. “You seemed to be enjoying the banter, Nick.”

He snorted under his breath, slowing just enough to let a pair of technicians pass them. “He’s clearly the more articulate of the brothers,” Fury said. “Interrogating him will be interesting.”

“Just no incentives that will undo my work,” Fenner said. Her mouth tightened slightly. She had always drawn a hard line when it came to coercion, even with the worst prisoners. “I still need to review his scans more closely, but even accounting for his healing and magic, some of those injuries predate his arrival.”

“Not his first glorious defeat,” Fury said dryly, a faint edge of mockery slipping into his voice. “Unless his attitude takes a one-eighty, I may stick to informative banter.”

“Good,” Fenner said. “I’d like him cooperative when I repeat the scans.”

“What for?” Fury asked. “We’ve established he’s not dying.”

“Research,” Fenner said, her tone making it clear Fury should have known better. “I want to understand the limits of his healing. If there’s anything we can learn that applies to humans.”

Fury stopped near the junction where the corridors split. “I doubt he’ll be eager once it stops benefiting him. Doing this against his will is a bigger security risk than keeping him in his glass box.”

“I know,” Fenner said, exhaling. “We have time to plan, and really insist we do it.”

They parted there, Fenner heading toward medical, Fury toward his office. Back to the piles of hellish documents.

Loki watched from his bed as two guards approached the glass with a tray between them. Another unexpected luxury of the mortals’ cage. His thoughts lagged, dulled by pain and the strange haze of the potion, so it took him a moment to even register the impracticality of opening the cell for every meal. Before the question could fully form, the guards slid the tray into a narrow slot set into the corridor wall.

Loki frowned.

Why bother escorting it here if they had no intention of actually feeding him? That would be an issue. Starvation would hinder both healing and magic, neither of which he could afford.

A low buzz followed, and a section of the wall inside his cell slid open. The tray now accesible from the inside.

Curious. Still, Loki made no move to rise. The idea of eating felt distant, almost theoretical.

The guards remained by the glass. Their helmets enclosed their heads completely, dark visors shielding their eyes, the lower half open to expose their mouths and jawlines. He couldn’t tell whether either of them had seen him before. He hadn’t made a habit of memorizing the faces attached to electric batons.

“You will receive meals three times a day,” the taller guard said, his voice filtered through speakers hidden somewhere in the cell. “When finished, return the tray and all utensils to the slot. Failure to do so will result in no further meals.”

The guard’s lips moved again, but no sound followed. His hand hovered near the control panel beside the glass.

“Do you understand?” the voice finally cut back in.

“You’ve explained it perfectly,” Loki replied, shifting slightly on the mattress. Pain flared in response, sharp and immediate. He stilled. “I shall try your cuisine later. Is that an issue?”

The guards exchanged a glance. “No. The slot will remain open. If the tray is untouched one hour before the next scheduled meal, you will not receive fresh food.”

Loki gave a quiet grunt in acknowledgment.

After a long, uncomfortable moment, they turned and left. Only once they were gone, he reached for the control and increased the dosage by one careful press. The cameras ensured he was never truly alone, and the mortals had already catalogued the damage done to him, but old habits lingered.

Privacy, even the illusion of it, was still worth claiming. He had learned it hard while on Sanctuary.

Loki was working his way through the meal – oddly decent, for prison food – when Doctor Fenner appeared behind the glass, flanked by two guards. He hadn’t heard them approach. The cell remained sealed off from outside sound, as it always was, and of all its features, that one irritated him the most.

He made a point of ignoring them while the silence held. He ate two more pieces of the orange vegetable, then pushed himself up and shuffled to return the tray to the wall slot. Nearly half the portion remained, but Loki had no interest in retching in front of an audience.

“You stated that your dietary needs were equal to or greater than a human’s,” Fenner said, her voice finally carrying through the speakers. “We accommodate required caloric intake, but we don’t condone wastefulness or pickiness unrelated to medical restrictions.”

Loki eased back into the chair, movements stiff with the brace forcing his posture rigid. He regarded her calmly.

 “I greatly appreciate your lack of desire to starve me. The meal was adequate, although with recent events, I cannot stomach as much as I would like to. Please, do not take it as offense to your hospitality.”

The honest answer seemed to catch her off guard. Loki hid his smirk. Antagonizing them served no purpose when the imprisonment they offered aligned so neatly with his own needs.

“So,” Fenner said after a beat, “that’s a verbose way of saying you’re nauseous?”

Loki inclined his head. “Precisely.”

“It could be a side effect of the pain medication.”

“More likely an aftereffect of magical overexertion while repairing lethal injuries,” Loki replied evenly. “It should resolve within a few days.”

Fenner’s gaze flicked to the empty bag. “Did it help?”

Loki brushed a finger against the device secured to his forearm. “I don’t know what your baseline expectation is,” he admitted, “but it dulled the edge somewhat. Lowered the voltage.”

“What setting were you using?”

He glanced at the small number above the buttons. “Six, initially. Seven toward the end.”

“It goes up to nine,” Fenner said. “A human wouldn’t remain coherent at that dosage. Did six offer any relief at all?”

“I felt something,” Loki said. “I wouldn’t call it relief.”

“And seven?”

“As I said. Lower voltage.”

Fenner sighed and rubbed at her temple. “You can increase it if you need rest, but the longer you stay at a higher dose, the faster you may build tolerance. If seven provides any benefit, I strongly advise staying there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’ll receive a new bag with each meal,” Fenner continued. “If you experience a medical emergency, ask aloud for assistance.”

Loki frowned slightly.

“We have constant audio and video feed from your cell,” she added. “Not just for surveillance. For your safety as well.”

Loki let out a short chuckle, and immediately regretted it as pain flared along his ribs. He stilled, expression smoothing back into place.

“Reassuring,” he said dryly.