Ahhh, yes another chapter! Blah blah boring writers notes:
I'm so jkfdsndfsjklasdoig sorry this took me forever to shit out- I HAVE SO MUCH PLANNED FOR THIS PLOT AND I JUST UGH IT'S TOO MUCH. But, the plot is actually starting to develop and I think there's actually going to be a story line yay! I would like to thank my lovely friend Katherine for proofreading the first half of this chapter (I didn't send her the second half because i was so damn turnt to get this thing posted man).
Anyway, the same warnings apply: language, blood, etc.
Enjoy, and feedback is always loved and appreciated! Thank you to everyone who had commented or contacted me about this fic- you guys are the bombdiggitty.

I hope you like it... Florence and the Machine had a large impact on this chapter .

Tony was careful when placing Loki onto the white sheets of the bed, hesitant to rip the laceration slicing down the god's back any further. The sight of it was truly gruesome, but he swallowed the images of bone showing through skin and green tinted scabs to lay the man down on the bed so that Bruce could get a move on it.

"JARVIS, I need a full body scan. Give me a log of everything- breathing stats, injuries, blood pressure-"

"Right away, sir."

Loki was gasping for breath through his nose as if he could not get enough air in his lungs, and his fists clenched and unclenched with every shallow breath he took (or tried to take). He slightly resembled a fish, his ribs showing like gills every time he took a breath in. The pale skin stretched over broken and bruised bone, giving the allusion that if it stretched any further the bones would pop through the surface. The stress fractures were more than obvious, and Bruce noticed with sickening curiosity that no one, not even someone as lean and lithe as Loki, should be so thin- the god's body was almost too emaciated to look at. It reminded him of the starved and deprived bodies of the children who went to bed hungry every night that he saw while in India. The thought of that hit hard on Bruce's heart- those children and their parents, their stories had become a part of him for the short period of time he was there. The thought of starved humans in general made him depressed.

Loki isn't human. Bruce thought , the idea popping into his mind immediately. For some reason, the idea bothered l- even though Loki wasn't a human, He resembled one, as did Thor. In fact, if the two brothers were ever seen in public they'd most certainly pass as a couple of attractive men heading to a renaissance festival. But a human-looking exterior was not enough to convince Bruce that Loki was the same on the inside- to convince him that human medicines and remedies would work on him. At least with the starving children, he had been positive he could help nurse them back to health. In this situation, he wasn't sure he could do anything at all.

The thought of having to pull Thor aside, to see that already awful glint in his eyes, to turn that awfulness into hopelessness, to tell him that they could not help- it all flooded Bruce's mind with painful quickness. Neither Tony nor Bruce would wake up again the same, that is, knowing that they had failed to save someone so dear to someone as sweet and oblivious as Thor. And if Loki truly was innocent, they would both feel tremendously worse (though Fury probably wouldn't mind). Bruce didn't think that, even if the god was innocent, they could convince Fury otherwise.

"Bruce, hey, snap out of it. He's bleeding out!" Tony's voice was rough and burdened with sweat. Bruce looked at him and clicked back to reality, taking in the scene before him again. Tony's hands overlapped each other and pressed down on Loki's chest, the compressions deep and quick.

"That won't help, you can't give him breaths-"

"Then cut the damn thread genius. He's dying!" Bruce was interrupted by Tony's voice, the desperation in his words driving Bruce's hands and mind. Tony was serious about this, dead serious, and he wanted Bruce to be as well. The scientist mentally scoffed- having a giant green monster threatening to rip out of your skin at the slightest hint of anger isn't exactly a walk in the park, Tony. Although, he realized, it wasn't his anger that was growing. It was his fear.

Metal scissors cut through the end of the thread, Bruce wincing as he wielded the instrument. He couldn't help but feel as if he were torturing the man further; he was more than sure that having thick black twine removed after months of being imbedded in the skin was not the most pleasant experience. He grasped the end of the stitch and began to unthread the material from the god's lips, swallowing vomit at the fresh blood that spilled. Several minutes passed in agonizing ticks, Bruce's hand moving steadily over the god's mouth and unzipping the black string from pale flesh. Bruce ignored the now audible (and disturbing) words coming from Loki's mouth and kept going. Once at the end, he pulled the string out and placed it in a trash bin beside the bed. For a moment there was no sound, no beeping of medical machinery, no harsh breaths, no strangled cries. Bruce's ears went deaf, and everything around him stopped, falling into a silent sleep so that he was able to think coherently.

Stitches, they needed stitches and bandages and antiseptic. They needed x-rays and an IV, and they had to get a move on it or Loki would die and Thor would be mad and Loki would be gone gone gone gone gone.

"Bruce," Tony's voice barked, snapping the doctor out of his rambling thoughts. He looked down at the god's lips, trying not to vomit at the sight. Yes, the mouth had been unstitched, but the bloody mess that was left was certainly a sight to behold.

"Right." Bruce pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger and lifted his head so he and Tony were eye to eye. "We need to get the bandages. And Tony, you might want to think about installing a drain in here," Bruce chuckled, looking at the floor. Tony couldn't figure out if he meant the infirmary needed a drain because of the blood dripping onto the tile, or the fact that Iron Man was about to piss himself from utter fear and desperation.

Why was Loki sleeping? Why was he not moving? Had son of Banner done something wrong? Oh, Midguardians had such odd healing remedies…

Thor rubbed his chin unintentionally. His tears had been dried several minutes prior, after hearing that his two comrades would nurse Loki back to health and house them until they were strong again. Though it would take the bumbling bafoon of a god ages to fall into the normalities of everyday human life, he suspected it was better than housing Loki secretly on Asgard. If he did so, and was caught, Loki would be in deeper than he already was, and it would be Thor's fault.

At this Thor shuddered, his bones quaking with the utmost horror, his eyes widening with the realization of something that he felt was too heavy for him to bear. The thought would not stop racing through his mind, and it didn't take long for him to grasp onto it and begin stewing over the idea that he was the epicenter of Loki's pain, that this was his fault.

He had brought Loki back to Asgard. He had turned Loki into Odin for punishment. And he had never suspected a thing, for he did not think his own father could have ever been so merciless. Odin rarely spoke to Thor after his youngest son's imprisonment; in fact, he rarely spoke to anyone, as if he wished not to socialize. The usual jubilant king of Asgard had been reduced to a frightened hermit, and the idea of such a thought absolutely sent Thor into worry; he never suspected that Odin's long periods of absence from sight were to elicit screams from his black haired son.

The warrior should have known something was certainly an undeniably amiss when he was denied visitation to his brother. Thor had requested several times to meet with his brother so that he could speak with him, but Odin persisted in having him turned away every time he asked. It wasn't until Thor had grown impatient with his father and broke into the dungeon one night to see his brother that he realized his father's true intentions, and Loki's true judgment.

It had been a cold, dark and dank night, befitting the situation that had yet to unfold. It was late at night, and extremely silent. Therefore when Thor, being the grand muscly mass that he is, stepped onto the floor and padded down the hallway, he had to be most careful not to awaken any who might be sleeping. The dungeon was quite a distance away, but Thor took no time in acquiring a torch and flame, and set off in his night clothes to the grimy place where his little brother was being held. Thoughts of an angry Loki, deprived of visitors flashed through Thor's mind and he prepared himself for what he might find living in the cell.

However, when he opened the door, the last thing he had expected was the gruesome image that he saw. Loki, his little brother, lay chained with his back pressed against rough stone. His weak arms lay limp, tired from struggling in his bonds and his chest heaved as if trying to suck in the last remnants of his shattered life, or what seemed to be left of it. His eyes stared at the ceiling, not recognizing the form of his brother for a moment's notice.

I have been lied to. This is not what father had implied. This is horrific- I must remove my brother from this place at once- at once! Oh, he is frigid. He needs a quilt… oh father you will pay.

The god's feet padded against the marble floor, quickly and quietly guiding him back to his quarters. His hands grasped the emerald blanket that lay folded at the end of his brother's bed, his fingers curling around the soft fringe of the fabric. His feet took down again towards the place where his brother lie broken, though it felt as if time seemed to be slowly slowly stopping.

Thor's large hands fumbled with the leather restraints that held his brother to the stone table and his mind clouded with so much confusion that he was almost unable to see clearly.

Damn you father! You had no right to do such a thing to him- even if his actions called for punishment! This is too far, too much. You will pay, you will smolder under my fist!

The older brother took hold of the blanket he had carefully placed away from the puddles of blood that spotted the floor with white knuckles.

I will not have any of this- this will not go without notice.

Thor wrapped the green blanket around his brother's frail shoulders, hushing Loki's low whimpers.

This will not go without notice.

Tony snipped the excess gauze and wrapped the wound that dug deep into Loki's shoulder.

"Sir, the subject is severely dehydrated,"

Bruce glanced at Tony with a curious eye. He'd already voiced his speculations about Loki's body, and Tony had already agreed that it was completely possible. Loki was not human. He resembled one to the tee, but the two men could not tell (without cutting him open and performing inhumane experiments, at least) if the god's insides operated in the same way as theirs did. The idea of not knowing if the medicines they had would heal the wounds that littered Loki's body was unnerving and upsetting, the annoyance showing in both the scientist and the mechanic's eyes as they stared at each other. Thank the gods Thor was outside the door.

"It's worth a shot," Tony said twitching an eyebrow.

"But what if it counteracts and hurts him, or doesn't work at all?" Bruce questioned, finally speaking the words that had been swallowed at the back of his throat.

"It's better than nothing. Reindeer games over here doesn't look too snappy," Tony fumbled with the medical instruments that lay on a metal tray before him. He tried to look like he knew what he was doing, because in reality, he honestly had no fucking clue what to do. " I say we use whatever we have to our advantage."

Bruce's scientific thoughts about Loki's chemical makeup and such were shoved to the back of his mind. The god was half awake and still able to hear things, and considering such, fear was not an emotion either of the men in the room wanted to inflict upon him.

Tony's hands gently prepared the needle, and stuck it into the trickster's hand. The god flinched for a moment, his hand jerking back and a cry escaping his cringed at the muffled sound, but proceeded to place a strip of medical tape over the connector that plugged the saline bag into Loki's skin to keep it in place. His eyes were still blindfolded, so the things that the god could not see but could feel were substantially scary despite the fact that he'd experienced worse.

It was scary and dark and so so so dark! Why couldn't he see? Something punctured and he flinched, he wanted to see and rip the thing away so his fear could leak out of him. He wanted to know and it was too dark to think he just wanted to know!

Bruce and Tony were hardly prepared for Loki's fidgeting, though they had both known to expect it from him. They were both taken utterly by surprise, as well, when Loki sprung up from his flat position and grasped the black fabric in his thin fingers. The material was loosened, not as tight as it had been before and not digging red welts into his skin. Loki squeaked in annoyance as he fidgeted to remove it from his eyes, his fingers trembling. The tubing connected to his arm shook along with his bones.

"Woah, woah, this," Tony's voice was slightly tinted with unsureness as he grasped one of Loki's frail wrists in his hand. "this is not okay."

Loki did not speak, nor did he stop his moving. Tony nodded towards Bruce- you grab the sedative or I'll have your ass later.

Bruce turned around to do so, afraid of what Tony would reprimand him with. Again, he wondered if the substance would actually work, but at this point, anything would be sufficient. If this didn't work, he always kept some valium in his car ( you know, just in case a massive supposed super villain happened to ever be flailing around wildly and threatening to open his life threatening wounds).

Iron Man's yelp did little to please the ears of the scientist, and when he turned around, the cold fear stricken glare of Loki did no better.

"He took the blindfold off!"

"No shit Sherlock," Tony said, placing his free hand around the other wrist of the god.

Loki was grunting, his shoulders yanking his arms away from Tony's grasp. The noises that rose from his throat were pitiful.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, it's right here-"

Loki's arm ripped free of Tony's grasp quite astonishingly. The look of surprise that zipped across Tony's face for a split second was humorously obvious to Bruce.

These damn gods and their super strength- the guy's already half dead and still managed to out arm wrestle Tony Stark.

The god's thin fingers pushed against Tony's chest, the pressure ripping the wound on his back open ever so slightly further. The wounds on his chest leaked crimson fluid onto the once white sheets.

Tony stumbled backwards, his state of utter confusion impairing him to do otherwise. His eyes locked on Loki as the god ripped the IV fluid from his hand, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Green- they were so green, though they almost seemed black. Loki's eyes were red and watery and crusted with years of neglect, the shadow of a once someone else casting beneath his pupils. They were stained with fear, dripping with poison.

His eyes glanced around the small medical room before he put his bare feet to the floor, taking in the unusual layout of scenery. No metal chains, no stone table, no array of sharp knives for Odin to choose from.

Loki shivered, and though his feet were already too weak to support him, the thought of his father brought him tumbling to the ground.

No no no, this wasn't alright he was not where he was supposed to be and there was something sticking into him and he needed to leave!

The second he hit the floor his world was showered with white stars and dancing darkness. His hands did not catch him, nor his head from hitting the cold tile floor. The men that stood on either side of the bed were looking at him with odd glances from above, almost as if they were worried.

The men looked different than they usually did; father usually sent the scraggly, beastly looking ones.

The pain was worse than it had ever been- someone had sliced down his back and had lit it on fire. His abdomen throbbed and stung with bits of broken glass and his skin was tender to the touch. He could not bear it, he did not want to bear it!

Make it go away, please, make it stop!

Oh, the words he would scream, the songs he would write for his tormenters. Mercy, Mercy.

His pants stuck to his body in odd places, and his shirt was nothing. He felt a familiar prick, flinched, and was then overtaken by an all too familiar encompassing darkness.

The door to the infirmary clicked shut behind Tony. Awkward eye contact with Thor was made for no longer than three seconds, and Bruce shuffled around the two and walked down the hallway, not saying another word.

"Ass," Tony whispered under his breath, cursing the scientist for leaving him in such a situation. Sure, the guy had his issues, but seriously? Banner walked slowly farther and farther away down the hall with his hands shoved in his pockets, each step dragging more and more annoyance from Tony's aura.

Thor's large hand suddenly appeared on Tony's shoulder, the gesture taking the man off guard. Asgardians were so touchy, and it was weird.

"My Brother," the god began to speak. Tony silently thanked the gods that Thor's voice had returned and his features resembled his old self rather than the mess they had been earlier. "Is he well?"

Tony involuntarily scoffed, sending a confused twitch to bend Thor's brow. The poor guy was so confused that it almost hurt to look at him; his blue eyes were large with curiosity, and his mouth was set in a straight line.

"He'll be okay," Tony replied, wiping his shirt free of pesky shards of clear paper from opening medical supplies. "He just needs to rest, and then he'll be… good as new." The mechanic's mind reeled for a moment at the thought, at the image of Fury's raging face when he found out Tony had nursed a war criminal back to health. Even if this whole "Loki's innocent and was never really evil" thing was true, Tony cringed at the thought that he could be severely reprimanded for healing Loki, due to the fact that the idea of his innocence had not been proven and he could have still in fact been evil. Instead of dwelling on that aspect of the situation, however, Tony cut right to the chase.

"But, uh- you and me," Tony continued, crossing his arms and looking at Thor. "We gotta talk."