Loki dragged himself across the broken floor of Tony Stark's once lavish living room. He growled low in his throat as he struggled, desperately trying to reach the roof and stop the female assassin from disturbing the Tesseract and the portal.

He had determined while working to disengaging himself from his personal crater in the floor that his body was grievously broken. It was a set back but he scoffed at the pain, it did not concern him, it was a distant thought that he readily ignored.

He tried to stand, he pushed himself up off the ground and attempted to get his legs under him. He did not get far. The demigod's right leg gave out as soon as he put weight on it. The two halves of his broken shine bone shifted and he crashed back to the hard floor.

His teeth clenched tightly as he bit back the urge to cry out; he cursed his betraying body for refusing to comply with his wishes just like everything else in this god forsaken realm.

Determined to keep moving, he was forced to crawl like a wretched wounded animal. He was a god, he thought fuming with indignation. No mere midgardian roof should be this far out of his reach.

The battles he'd fought this day culminating in his encounter with the beast had left him with broken bones, torn muscles, lacerated flesh, and a headache that threaten to split his skull, if he acknowledged it.

He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts and regain his focus... his conviction.

If he was going to regain any lost ground Loki knew he needed to move. He cursed that he had not been able to for some time after the beast had assaulted him. He did not know how long it had taken for him to pull his senses together but he was sure he'd spent far too long in the throws of his pathetic weakness.

Once again.

He huffed vexed and bared his teeth as he continued to pull himself onward with wounded hands.

His progress was agonizingly slow and he wanted to cry out in frustration and ire at his crippled and offending body but he bit his tongue and pushed on.

Anger boiled his blood and Loki cursed Thor and the Avengers for getting in his way. They had no idea the consequences that would come from their actions against him.

He would not be bullied anymore.

Loki had no idea of what was going on outside the walls of Stark tower. The knowledge that something had indeed happened exploded suddenly in his head. He gasped as the Other's connection with his mind was violently severed. His head was jerked to one side as if he'd been psychically struck. The unanticipated shock caused him to loose the tentative control he had of his limbs.

His hands slipped out from under him and the side of his face smacked the marble floor. He was glad for a fleeting second that he had not been able to stand before, he would have had further to fall.

There was a moment of shocked stillness where Loki in a daze thought that perhaps he'd imagined the Chitauri were gone. Then he blinked. In that moment the connection was truly dissolved and the veil he'd been under lifted.

Pain both recent and older came crashing to the forefront of his consciousness.

He coughed and sputtered as he lay on the cold floor, droplets of his red blood standing out against the pale stone and his paler cheek. He choked and gasped and coughed some more. His broken ribs grated against one another as his chest heaved against the marble floor.

His mind whirled with questions. What had happened? Were the Chitauri destroyed? Where did that leave him?

He groaned, his forehead pressed against the cold floor his one comfort in all this disastrous mess.

A snide voice in the back of his mind told him that this was fitting. What was his life if not a constant struggle to free himself of an unwelcome situation only to have to then deal with the ramifications of the price he'd paid for that freedom.

He started to question the voice; what had he done in his life to deserve this? The answer came almost before he finished the thought. He rolled his eyes, 'been born of course'.

He pushed up off the floor again. He was stubborn. Perhaps there was still a way out.

This time every inch of him cried out in protest. Loki tried to swallow back a sobbing cry but he couldn't stop it escaping his lips as he forced his damaged body to move. It was now a hundred times more difficult then before. Nothing could ever just be easy could it? He sighed and pushed on.

His tolerance for the pain he was in was not the only thing to change with the Chitauri's veil gone: the great loathing that he'd felt only moments ago melted into strong dislike. The space that loathing had taken up in his soul was quickly filling with fear.

It was clear to him that he'd failed. Now he had a sinking suspicion that what was left of the Chitauris and the other enemies that filled his nightmares would come looking for him to get what they believed he owed them.

These enemies were the kind to make you pay a pound of flesh and he knew their great joy was taking it slowly.

He wanted to run, if only he could get his legs to work. He wished desperately the he had the magic to transport himself away. But his reservoir of magical energy had been so abused by the chitauri and exhausted by the Tesseract that he didn't have the strength, not without the aid of the scepter.

He needed to get somewhere far away, lick his wounds, and figure out how to slip the ramifications of this unplanned for predicament.

Perhaps if he could make it to the Tesseract he could muster the strength use it as a transport. He grimaced remembering the tole the cursed thing had taken on him when had traveled to midgard through the Tesseract at the start of all this.

He started slowly pulling himself up the couple of steps to the next level of the large room. Groaning with effort. He had been crawling over broken glass and marble shards, they had pierced his palms and fingers. His hands were sticky now with his blood. Exhaustion was taking over and he felt every burdensome pound of the heavy armor he wore.

He didn't hear their approach possibly because of the ringing that resounded in his ears but the feeling of their eyes on him made him pause. He knew before he turned that he was caught.

Loki's mind worked fast even through the fog of pain and he knew that his only option now was to try and control the amount of backlash he incurred.

He turned back to them slowly breathing heavy with exertion. His eyes scan those that surrounded him flitting to each foe and then down to the floor. He tried hard to keep his anxiety from showing; it was very difficult with his body disobeying and all his angry adversaries glaring in his direction.

He fought hard to keep the chills that wanted to run up and down his spine at bay but the presence of the Beast and Thor and Barton threatening to put an arrow in his eye sent an involuntary tremor through his thin frame that rattled what was left of his nerves.

Loki's propensity for self preservation kicked in as he tries to sit up a bit straighter. Shifting his features into an abashed expression. In a light tone with no hint of malice that projected his desire for a truce he asks about the drink that Stark had offered him earlier.

His query elicits little reaction from the wary and weary Avengers. Clint continues holding his bow aimed at Loki at pointblank range. Tony alone jeers at the request "No drink for you. I reserve my liquor for my friends." Natasha scoffs in a low angry voice that Loki strains at first to hear, but the god of mischief knows the message all too well.

He can guess what will come next, he's been captured before, unprepared and at a disadvantage.

Loki never makes it to a more dignified seated position, he is propped up on the steps. He lowers his head, hoping to look sympathetic. he'll try anything to minimize the pain that he knows will come next.

He braces his dispirited and wrung out self the best he can.

Perhaps Barton will loose his arrow or they will simply give him back to the Hulk. He knows however it happens they will make him pay for his actions.

If he's luck they will be quicker about it than the Other.

A small sad knowing smile moves across his tired features as he looks first into Stark's eyes and then finds the hard gaze of Thor. The blond glowers down at Loki in what Loki would describe as disgust. Loki imagines Thor, his golden brother, must be rather pleased with himself.

He would have liked to have been able to put on a defiant front but he just can't seem to manage it with throbbing pain that's hammer at his temples.

Thor glares at his brother still trying to comprehend the destruction Loki has brought to Midgard. He stands with the other Avengers tired and angry but the god of thunder starts to feel his anger falter. The expression on Loki's face is so free from hatred and disgust that he looks to Thor as he did when they were young and not at odds. From when they were brothers before Loki... fell.

Thor's brotherly instinct threatens to over take his stoic facade as Loki turns his face away from all of them and sucks in a ragged breath. The breath catches in his throat and he tries to hide as he winces in pain. Thor sees the grimace that the others miss and can't help but wince with his brother.

Then Loki makes a noise that none of them expects. Suddenly he is laughing, at what Thor knows not. It is not boisterous or even maniacal sounding, rather he is giggling. The sound is foreign to Thor's ears; never could he recall his brother laughing in such a fashion.

Loki can't help himself he feels so completely without options or hope in this moment that the absurdity of it all over takes him, he is soon in a fit of giggling.

He can hear them standing over him making assumptions about his mental state "crazy" "insane" "bag of cats" "lost his mind." but he can't seem to stop himself.

his eyes start to water. Maybe he has finally completely lost his mind, maybe this was the last straw for his long abused psyche. He rolls onto his side with one arm holding his ribs as his giggling degrades into grasps and hiccups.

The Avengers aren't sure what to make of Loki's fit and are cautious about getting too close to him because him gasping on the floor might somehow be a trap.

Thor is tempted to remain standing with his new allies but when Loki's eyes start to loose focus Thor comes to the decision that he cannot stand aside and watch his brother struggling to breathe.

He strides passed Barton and moves to Loki's side.

"Thor...?" With just his name Tony Stark is able to both question Thor's actions and caution against them.

"He is in distress. I will help my brother." Thor replies seriously, he would not be dissuaded, no matter what had taken place here, Loki is his brother. Thor was not going to fail to save his brother, again.

He moves swiftly and Loki narrows his green eyes with jealousy at his brother's ease of mobility. Loki's body shakes as he gasps and coughs on the cold hard floor. His inability to catch his breath is starting to make his head swim.

Thor comes to his aid. Loki is in no shape to refuse his help. He has to except it as the larger man moves to his side and pulls him up into a sitting position.

Loki wills his body to stop betraying his weakness to his enemies but he continues to tremble and cough his chest ached and his throat burned. Leaning back into Thor the pressure is slightly relieved from his lungs and finally for all his gasping his able to take a deep breath. He takes another deep breath, it causes different muscles and bruises to ache, he doesn't care as he breathes greedily. His trembling body calms and his eyelids become suddenly heavy.

He relaxes ever so slightly back into Thor and lets himself for the faintest glimmer of a second be comforted by the fact that he is in his brother's care.

Thor sits on the floor holding his brother up. He feels Loki grow still and sag in his arms, his head falling back to rest on his shoulder. Loki starts to slide back to the floor growing boneless as he edges towards unconsciousness. Thor without thinking tightens his grip around his younger brother's middle eliciting a pained groan from Loki's spilt lips.

It is a surreal moment for Thor. Sitting with his brother in his arms, the brother who he'd mourned, who he thought was lost to the spaces in between yggdrasil's branches. In the past few days he'd spoken with him and fought with him, been dropped from the helicarrier by him but he hadn't been so close and so still.

His brother was alive.

Tony started to feel awkward standing over Thor, watching as the large Asgardian held his brother. He didn't get a chance to do anything about it.

TBC...

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