Chapter 2

Coping

"Stark!"

Tony's ears were ringing and there was some other unearthly noise around, clouding Tony's senses.

"Stark!" the voice called again, slightly louder this time. Tony wanted to reach it desperately, but at the same time there was something pushing down on his chest, keeping him back.

"STARK, WAKE UP!"

Suddenly the strange noise stopped and he shot up into a sitting position, clutching at his chest. He was drenched in sweat and his throat was killing him, the ringing still in his ears. Shifting on the spot, he looked around nervously, finding himself in a dark room—his room—the only light coming from his arc reactor. The brief moment of panic at being restrained passed as he shoved the sheets off of his still trembling body, focusing on taking deep breaths, his throat protesting profusely, making him wince at the pain.

He didn't have to turn his head to know that it was Clint beside his bed with that same worried and slightly irritated look on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the archer's body in the dim blue glow.

"I did it again, didn't I?" Tony asked him gruffly, rubbing at his neck when his voice came out in a rasp. He knew now that the pain in his throat and the aforementioned unearthly sound was because of his screaming. Again. His brows came together as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Clint sighed and crossed his arms. "Tony—"

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there," Tony interrupted, dropping his hand and looking up at Clint with a tired glare. "I don't need you lecturing me, Target Practice."

Clint smirked in annoyance at the nickname. "I wasn't planning on it."

"Good. Then leave; door's that way," Tony replied, waving his hand in the general direction of the exit.

The archer waited a beat before actually taking a few steps backwards toward the door and dropping his arms back at his side. "We're talking about this in the morning," he warned, jabbing a finger at Tony. Before Tony could object, Clint turned on his heel and left, closing the door softly behind him.

The second Tony knew he was alone, he closed his eyes and stopped trying to control how violently his body was shaking. Sighing deeply, he brought his head to his hands, pulling his fingers through his messy hair and clasping them together at the back of his neck. He rested his forehead on one of his knees which he pulled up to his chest.

The damn nightmares were just getting worse, revisiting not only flashbacks of the previous battle, but also memories of when he was in captivity, or fighting against his best friend, not to mention the scenes his head made up on its own. He had to keep reminding himself that waking up in the dark did not mean waking up in that cave; that feeling, that pressure on his chest was not the same as flying through a portal and into some other world's demise; that continually waking up with someone standing beside his bed did not mean that that someone was a twisted demigod with a vendetta against him. Even though that last bit suddenly had a very real possibility of happening.

"Calm down, Stark," he mumbled to himself, wishing his body would stop shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut until it nearly hurt, removing his hands from his neck and pressing their heels against his eyes. "Jarvis?"

"Sir?" the AI answered politely and at a low volume.

"Time?" he croaked.

"Three thirteen in the morning, sir."

Tony groaned, letting himself fall back onto his pillow. He focused on slowing his breaths and hoping that his heart rate would follow his lead. His eyes drooped and his body begged for sleep, but Tony's mind was racing, still on edge with the all-too-vivid images of the nightmare. He knew Clint was right in being worried about him, but that didn't mean he wanted to have to deal with it.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Jarvis, start a shower." He sat up and noted how tense his back and shoulders were. "And make it hot," he added as an afterthought.

-

Clint was sure to close the door softly though he wanted nothing more than to throw it shut. He made his way back down the hall to the elevator wishing more and more that his room was not on the floor above directly Tony's. He punched in the floor number lazily and leaned back against the wall.

He still got chills even after pulling Tony out of his nightmares six times now. The sight of it was horrific; bursting through the door into a dark room with nothing in sight but a dim blue light and Tony's face contorted in some terrible concoction of pain and fear, his eyes squeezed shut. His back was always arched upward and his hands were in a death-grip on whatever was closest to them. Then, of course, there was the screaming. You'd swear the man was being burned alive; it was so violent it made his body shake. Even a floor above, it was loud to Clint's ears, hardly muffled by the walls at all, and being in the room with it sent his ears ringing.

The image was haunting and not something he'd ever expect to see from Tony Stark. Obviously the guy had emotions, but he'd gotten so good at hiding them, sometimes the others just… forgot. These nightmares were a reminder to Clint that this guy had fears and they were slowly eating at him. He just wondered what the fuck he was dreaming about that tossed him into that state.

Stark wasn't the only one with nightmares or having trouble coping. No one else screamed like that, but even so. Clint's may have gotten as bad as Tony's had if it weren't for Natasha. The archer shook his head and scratched his neck as the elevator slid open. He stepped out and made his way groggily to his bedroom where Natasha sat in his bed and in the light of the bedside lamp, knees pulled up and her arms resting across them.

"Hey," she greeted as he climbed back into the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. "That bad?"

He groaned in response. "Getting worse. I swear sooner or later, I'll be having nightmares about that."

Natasha smiled softly and rested her head down on her pillow so that her face was level with his. "He'll get over it eventually."

"I don't know how—he won't fucking talk to anyone," Clint complained, sliding his arm off his face.

"Why would he? He's Stark."

"I don't care who he is, he just needs at least someone to talk to about it. I mean, that someone used to be Pepper, but—"

"Clint he's not gonna talk to anyone. Maybe Bruce, but even that is asking a lot." Natasha told him, propping her head up on her hand. "He doesn't trust anyone anymore. Especially not now, with Loki here."

"Jesus, Nat, don't start that up again, we just made up."

"Well it's true!" she told him with a shrug. "And I'm not picking a fight, I'm just telling you—as long as Loki's around, which apparently will be for a while, Stark is going to stay this same stubborn, closed off, nightmare-ridden… thing. It's not pretty, but I honestly don't see what else we can do about it aside from waiting for it to pass on its own."

"Well that's not an option," Clint replied grumpily, rolling over on his side, and facing away from Natasha.

"Why not?"

"Because it's really cutting into my sleep."

_

Morning light accompanied by Jarvis's voice woke Tony the next morning, pulling him from a nightmare-free albeit restless sleep.

"Sir, I am sorry to wake you, however the others request your presence in the downstairs sitting room."

Tony rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow to block out the light. "Oh of course they do," he groaned. "Tell them to fuck off."

"I'm afraid—"

"Mute," Tony called irritably, instantly shutting off Jarvis's voice.

It couldn't have been more than five minutes when his door was suddenly thrust open by Steve.

Again Tony groaned, his fingers curling into his pillow which he now held to his face. "Security breach," he muttered.

"Get up," Steve commanded. "It's past ten and we're tired of waiting."

"Great, start without me," the genius retorted, tossing his pillow to the foot of the bed. He sat up—there was no point in trying to sleep anymore anyway, but he made no move to leave the room.

"Tony, we need to figure this out; it's getting out of hand." Steve told him.

"Nope—I've got this completely under control."

"Tony. I am five floors above you and I can hear you."

That surprised Tony and threw him a little off his game for a moment, but he caught himself before he let Steve know that. "Well it seems to me that the real issue here is not me, but the thickness of the walls and floors. Jarvis, take a note—"

"Stark, I swear to god, get downstairs now. We're tired of playing around."

"I feel threatened."

"You want a threat? Don't think I won't send Natasha."

There was a beat of silence in which Tony couldn't hide his hesitation this time around.

"Just give me a sec, okay? I'll be down in like five."

"Seconds or minutes?"

"Steve."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Just hurry up," he said, closing the door behind him.

Keeping his word, Tony made his way downstairs within the promised five minutes, changed into jeans and a T-shirt. He strolled past the group who were all sitting in the communal area as if they weren't there, wordlessly heading straight for the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee.

Someone cleared their throat and he looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry. You guys want anything?" he asked with a cocked brow.

Bruce grinned, but Natasha spoke up, "Stark, don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Great plan," he said, snapping his fingers and pointing her way with a sarcastic grin on his face, "Better yet, we could just skip the whole thing!"

"What is going on in here?"

Everyone in the room tensed up, turning their attention to Loki who had walked in wearing black pants and a long-sleeved green shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

"Ah, brother, you are awake," Thor greeted him.

Where the fuck did he get those clothes? Tony pushed the question out of his mind as the smile fell from his face. "Oh, well there goes my good day," he sighed, looking back at the others as they turned their eyes on him. "And it was going so well too."

"Seriously quit whining and just fucking talk about this," Clint said, raising his voice.

"Ah, are you referring to last night when Stark started screaming? I do have to ask," Loki smiled, facing Tony, "was that my doing?"

Tony's jaw clenched as he glared at Loki hatefully, his hands balling into fists.

"That does not help us, Loki," Thor growled. "It would do you well to be civil in a room full of people pitted against you."

"I was merely asking a question, dear Odinson," Loki replied with a tilt of his head.

"Oh don't start," Natasha snapped at the two of them. "Tony—"

"What?!" he suddenly shouted, all the anger from last night suddenly back on the surface. "What the fuck do you people want from me? Some big confession? A sob story? Forget it—this is an issue I have and I'm dealing with it."

Discarding his coffee, he stepped away from the counter, and stormed out of the room and into the elevator.

"Well geez, I wonder whose fault that was?" Steve sighed with a bite of sarcasm. He fell back against the chair he sat on, looking up at Loki who stood beside him.

The god scoffed at that. "I am not at fault for Stark's childishness. I meant nothing by it."

"You still should not have said anything!" Thor suddenly shouted and several people, including Loki, jumped. "He is going through something none here can comprehend and we are attempting to understand it."

Loki pursed his lips. He could understand it just fine, if the situation was as it seemed which he was certain it was. Nightmares after times of trauma—oh yes, one could say that Loki Laufeyson was an expert in the field. Images of torture and punishment filled his mind, and he pushed them out, determined to keep the mask of apathy on his face. He could probably relate to Stark more closely than any of them, but that didn't mean he wanted to get into it.

"Consider me, from this point, uninvolved," he said with a shrug. "I will no longer interfere if it inconveniences you."

Loki watched as the faces before him took on looks of suspicion along with confusion.

"Um… thanks," Bruce replied hesitantly, though Loki knew he didn't quite believe him. As to be expected the god was fully aware of the fact that simple words would not gain the trust of these few. Especially not a certain Anthony Stark. He was a different case entirely and though making that remark was foolish, he couldn't say he regretted it.

"He's never gonna talk anyway," Natasha stated, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "Like I said," she added with a look at Clint.

"Hey, my main concern is that I'm losing sleep over it," the archer shrugged.

"Perhaps that is your problem."

"I was under the impression you were no longer involved," Thor pointed out.

"If it inconveniences you," Loki clarified, "and in this case it will not."

"So what, now you want to help?" Clint asked, raising a brow.

"Were you not listening yesterday or did you just overlook the reasons of my being here?" Loki asked him. When Clint smirked, he went on, "As I was saying, Stark does not seem the ignorant type to me and with good reason, so I think it foolish of you all to assume that he does not see through your actions."

"What are you saying?" asked Steve.

Loki sighed. "I'm saying that if your intentions are selfish, he'd most likely see that and avoid confrontation. Like today."

"Look, we care about more than just ourselves," Clint told him, "But come on, you heard him last night. This is affecting more than just Tony."

Loki snorted. "I've not known the man long and yet even I know that he sees this, along with most things, as his little show."

"His little show? If he saw this as a chance to show off, he'd talk about it," Natasha told him.

"Would he? Stark seems the type who likes attention pointed his way," Loki stated. "And making a fuss about it by hiding things does just that."

Bruce laughed shortly. "You're not wrong there, but situations dealing with emotions, Tony opts out of, especially if it makes him look weak."

The god shrugged. "So be it. I am just saying that Stark is not thinking of this as something that affects anyone but himself and unless he gets that from you all, he won't talk." Silence followed that statement. Loki smirked. "I will see you all later," he told them with a wave of his hand as he turned back toward the elevator.

"You're not going down there are you…?" Clint asked, sitting up to better see the god as he stepped inside the elevator.

"To see Stark?" the god laughed. "I am not so foolish."

The doors slid closed and everyone in the room seemed to release a breath they'd all been holding for the past five minutes.

"Okay, that was weird," Bruce said.

"I know," Natasha agreed, her brows pulling together. "What was that?"

"Just Loki keeping to his word," Thor spoke. It was the first time in a while. "It is something he's not done in a long time…"

-

Tony knew he was being childish, storming out like that, but honestly, he didn't care. He planned on heading to his shop and staying there as long as he could, but that changed when the elevator dinged open.

I have got to remind Jarvis to only let authorized personnel in here… he thought bitterly. However, the thought left his mind as he turned and saw Bruce.

"I told you I'm not talking about this," Tony said stubbornly, turning back to his work.

"Then don't," Bruce replied, "but something really funky just happened."

Tony smirked at the choice of words, but turned to face his friend. "What?"

"Loki just… in an albeit insulting way… kind of stood up for you."

Tony's brows came together and he jerked his head back. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

Bruce shook his head a bit. "Loki. He just—I mean, we were talking about the night, well the situation once you left, and Clint said something stupid and Loki just. I'd never… I don't—"

"Use your sentences Bruce," Tony sighed.

"He helped. He stood there and actually gave advice and tried to make us see it from your point of view and—"

"Wait, my point of view?" Tony suddenly half shouted, cutting Bruce off again. "What the fuck does he know about my point of view?"

The doctor shrugged. "A lot, apparently. Or at least it sure sounded like it."

Tony stared at him for a moment in stunned silence. He wasn't really sure whether he should focus on his anger or his confusion. No matter; there was still the suspicion. What kind of game was Loki trying to play, anyway? Kill thousands of people, come back with a sob story, insult Tony, and now suddenly he wants to fix the domestic issues?

"…What the fuck?" was all he was able to say.