Hidden Troubles

3 | Break and Shatter

Curled up in the corner of the room was the formerly proud god, reduced to a whimpering ball of mush. Blood seemed to be everywhere, dripping slowly from his hands and sinking into the gaps of the floorboards. The mirror lay only a couple of feet away, coated in much darker blood, thoroughly shattered beyond belief. Even Tony couldn't find a snarky remark to utter out. He'd completely blanked. And Tony Stark never blanked.

Bruce however, fell into Doctor-mode the moment he caught sight of the destructive scene before him. Setting the black case he'd bought on the floor, he began to approach Loki cautiously, like how one would with an untamed predator.

"Loki?"

"Leave me." A rough voice stirred from the shivering heap in the corner. "Please."

"Loki, we've got to check your hands. Can I see your hands?"

"Leave me BE!" The voice turned feral, snarling at them, frightened emeralds adding to the wildness. With unexpected strength, Loki practically pounced at Banner, but somehow he'd been tackled to the floor, and Bruce was desperately restraining all four of his limbs.

"Tony, Tony listen. The case I bought, there's a needle in it. It's a sedative, it's all ready. Get it over here and shove it in him." 

Case case caseeeeee Tony's brain slowed— how the hell was Bruce so calm he was meant to be the opposite of calm what— somehow the needle ended up in his grasp as he kneeled by the case- he could hear Bruce's desperate cries to hurry up— and then the needle was in, deep in the god's shoulder, and the spasming calmed to a mere few twitches before an unsettling stillness came over him.

A heavy silence hung over the two scientists as they watched the now resting god. In sleep he looked so oddly peaceful— innocent almost, as though the weight of his punishment and the murders he was responsible for didn't hang on his shoulders.

"Well, thank fuck that's over. What do we do now?"

"It's best if we take him up to get his hands sorted," Bruce gestured to the blood-covered ones held in an "I surrender" position from Bruce's restraining. "Keep him in for the night for observation, although his hands will probably heal if anything. We should probably get some leather restraints for him or something, just in case."

"Well, that's just going to get a bit kinky."

***

He could feel the light pushing against his eyelids, a welcome softness underneath him. He could hear soft murmurings just beside him, if only he could just open his eyes—

When he finally managed to do so, his vision was distorted and blurry, but quickly cleared as he looked away from the harsh light and towards a blob of a figure beside him. Bruce was sitting in a chair that had been pulled up next to his bed. Only it wasn't his bed. The sheets were almost too thin, and the walls of the room were pure white, and far too bright for Loki's liking. Sitting up slightly he noticed that Tony was watching him from behind a desk.

What mortified him however, was the state of his hands. Bandaged together into massive fists, with the once fresh bandages now covered in dried blood. A throbbing pain pulsed from them, and an even greater one from the back of his head.

"What happened?" His voice felt sore and came out all croaky.

Bruce chuckled. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Loki opened his mouth, only nothing came to him. He wasn't sure what the last thing he remembered was.

He tried to raise his ruined hands to block the lights, but they seemed so heavy. Far too heavy. Why did everything feel so hard all of a sudden? Even breathing felt like something he had to put a forceful, conscious effort into.

"JARVIS, could you dim the lights please?"

The piercing pain in his skull lessened slightly as the lights dimmed. It would have been quite comfy, albeit present company.

"Better?" Loki nodded slightly. It seemed to be a sufficient response, for Bruce continued.

"How about I'll tell you what I remember?" Bruce took Loki's silence as an answer.

"What I remember is having to charge into your room, only to see you curled up in the corner of your room with your hands bleeding out. And smashed up mirror pieces all over the floor, covered in blood."

"Don't miss out the best bit, Dr Jekyll."

"Tony." The warning in Bruce's voice was ignored. The inventor had now come over to stand behind Bruce, leaning on a table beside him.

"See now, there's also the bit where you started screaming your head off and attacked Brucie Boy here during your little temper tantrum. And that little mess didn't stop until we had to flipping sedate you. You wanna start explaining what's up with that, Rock of Ages?"

"Tony, stop."

A glance at Loki released a wave of guilt to crash into Tony. The man looked almost broken now, unshed tears glistening in his eyes, with the most far off look possible— it probably went beyond all those realms Thor's dad protected.

"I think we should go. Tony, with me." 

Their departure went unnoticed by the broken God, overwhelmed once more in a sea of memories and thoughts he would do anything to forget. He stared aimlessly at the ceiling, tears rolling down his cheeks, as silent as the vise compressing his chest, his heart begging for something other than pain to feel.

***

A stern word from Bruce later, and Tony had been banished from his lab and the medical room and sent to the communal room. The day had frankly gone to shit. It had taken two hours for the sedative to wear off. A few minutes later and Tony found himself shouting at Loki, an unexpected rage having washed over him. He felt bad, he did, but he didn't have it in him to start forgiving the prick. He could still recall the stubbornness, the arrogance, his personal sense of superiority in that so-called god's voice. But how could you just hate someone that helpless?

God I need a drink.

He settled down a few moment later, mindlessly flicking through the channels available on the TV, a glass of bourbon in hand. Clint walked in a while later, whilst Tony was drunkenly sipping on his fifth glass.

"How's the drama queen?"

"Shut up, Robin Hood."

Clint pressed on. "You still looking after that asshole?"

"What else do you expect?" Clint was giving him a headache now, but the archer was persistent.

"You do remember everything he's done, right? Like the part where he invaded New York, tore down like every building within a ten block radius of this one, and took over my mind? Do you remember any of that?"

"Clint, I can't deal with this now. You don't like him— that's your game to play. I just don't want Thor smashing me with that hammer, and quite frankly, I don't really want to leave Prongs down there with bloody hands forever. So you do you, and don't interfere with me." With that, Tony stumbled unsteadily to the bar, where he poured himself another drink to wash away all god- related troubles.