Something that came spewing out of me. I write when my own angst is to the maximum capacity, and this is what you get. I know that I changed a lot from how Avenger's ended, but it was necessary.

The second the staff was destroyed, Loki's mind cleared from the muddled murder messages that were forced into it. He glanced around and, for all of his mightiness, cried out. He covered his mouth with his hand and shut his eyes back tightly, willing the sight away from his mind. Had he done this? He heard footsteps approaching him and pretended to be unconscious; he couldn't handle the guilt, not now. He felt a small hand on his throat, over his pulse point. It moved away and he heard, "He's alive." There was a heavy sigh above him; his brother, no doubt.

Then, suddenly, he was lifted up. It took all his energy not to startle and give up his knocked out façade when he was cradled against a familiar chest. The gesture didn't make sense. He deserved so much worse than his brother's kindness, though that guilt was lowered when he realized that when he 'awoke' he'd have the whole human race to deal with. He remembered every bit of what he'd done, what he'd said. The lives he ended.

Loki was no stranger to killing, war, battle, but this was different. These deaths were caused by him, but provoked without his control. Nothing had been in his control. Not for one moment did he expect the humans to believe that, the small taste of human nature he'd received on his first visit to Midgard was less than understanding. Humans are thick headed and believe what they want; so why should they believe a demi-god who had just tried (and failed) to subjugate their world when he said he was being controlled by another. The other.

They'd raped his mind just as they had raped his body, in preparation of their war, not his. He was just a puppet, a puzzle piece as he always had been, and at the moment, being held tightly in his brother's arms, he felt lower than that. What little control he had left was gone, so he could not stop the tears that seeped through his eyes and down his cheeks. He hoped his envoy wouldn't notice, but when had things ever gone his way?

"Hey, is he crying?" It was a male voice, probably the Man of Iron, Loki thought.

The small hand, the one that checked his pulse wrapped a firm hand around his upper arm and shook gently, surprising him enough for his façade to fall and his eyes to open. When he saw his situation, he shrank back. He took in his dilemma, he had no weapons to defend himself and nowhere to hide. He could feel his brother's eyes peering down at his face but he dared not look at him. He didn't want the anger. He couldn't handle the anger. He avoided the eyes, so glad that they hadn't said anything further, and stared blankly at the floor of the moving vehicle they were in. The tears continued, but he'd long ago mastered the art of silent crying.

When the moving vehicle stopped, his brother carried him out and into a building. Loki had closed his eyes again, not wanting to see the place he would surely be confined and then executed in. He most likely could have walked, but his brother gave him no choice; not once had he spoken a word to him.

They stopped, and Loki risked opening his eyes. He and his brother were alone, save one man in a white coat. The man smiled—something that terrified Loki for no apparent reason—and approached him with a small syringe. Loki didn't fight when it was injected into his arm, and he could see the look of surprise on the man's face. He still didn't look at his brother.

Soon after the injection, Loki's eyes became heavy, he started to feel weightless and clinically happy, a kind of happiness that is so obviously from medication that you start to feel just a tad more depressed then you already were in the first place—but you can't feel it. They had taken away Loki's control of his emotions. He was placed on a soft surface, and his brother's full form came into view. Loki met his eyes for the first time and saw a blank mask. A tingle of pride shot through him. He was glad that his brother could hate him—it meant that he'd grown smarter, and learned that not everyone can be saved; not everyone is good. So Loki smiled, a wane, dopy smile, and Thor scoffed.

"Do you realize what you've done, Loki? Have you any remorse at all?" No emotion bled through Thor's face as he spoke the words. Each one was like a knife under Loki's skin, but he wasn't allowed to feel it. He wished he could feel it.

"I do." Was all Loki replied, because the medication had taken away his ability to be sad, to cry, to show just how distraught he was.

Thor's expression shifted slightly, into a look of wonder and surprise. He wasn't expecting honesty. Loki thought wryly, and then it hit him—what they'd injected him with. Truth serum.

"What do you feel remorse for?" Thor asked.

Only then did Loki notice the mirrors lining the walls, the camera in the corner of the ceiling, the red button beside the door. He was being interrogated.

A part of him wanted to laugh, rejoice that the humans were smart enough to milk the truth from him, but another part was terrified. If he divulged all of the knowledge the Other had given him, he would be punished far worse than he would be for all of his crimes on Midgard.

"Loki." Thor said it as a reminder, but it was patient; something Loki didn't think Thor knew of.

"Killing the Midgardians, hurting them like I did." In his head, tears racked down his face. If he could grovel at his brother's feet he would, but he could barely move.

Thor nodded stiffly. "Why did you hurt them?" Loki could see his brother's blank face dissolving; he wondered how long it'd take for him to crack.

"They made me." Emotion made it into his voice, made it through the thick high the truth serum caused him. His confession was low, a whisper. A scared whisper.

Thor's eyes visibly softened, and Loki knew he was close. He knew his brother better than anyone; better than the people watching their exchange from behind the glass.

"The Chitauri?" He asked, dread in his tone.

Loki tried to nod but could not, Thor didn't see his struggle, so he repeated himself.

"Loki, was it the Chitauri?" There wasn't impatience or anger in his voice, just urgency.

"No. The Other." Was Loki's reply. He watched as confusion flitted over Thor's face.

"Who is 'the Other'?" Thor asked him.

Somehow, perhaps because Loki was a demi-god, his emotions overrode the serum just enough for tears to flee his eyes and a sob to catch in his throat. He successfully shook his head, closing his eyes as image after image passed across the back of his eyelids.

The way they cut him open, bared his flesh to the air and spit at him, priming him for infection and then sewing him back up, so it could fester. The way they raped him, one after the other, abusing every crevice he had for their own sick pleasure. The way they starved him, forcing him to eat the dirt from the floor he was thrown onto and then berating him with abusive words for his pathetic actions. The way he'd cry, beg, for his brother to come and save him and the way he never came.

His memories stopped when he felt himself being shaken, strong hands gripping his shoulders and words being repeated above him. He opened his eyes and through a blur of tears saw his brother's worried face. He was saying something but Loki couldn't make it out—all he could hear were the Chitauri's yelling.

"He's escaped! After him!"

Loki's breathing hitched and he clutched Thor's arms. "We have to get out, Thor, get me out of here." He whispered urgently. Thor stilled above him, confusion staining his features. The sounds of the Chitauri approach was getting louder in Loki's ears and he couldn't understand why Thor wasn't running. He had come to save him, hadn't he? Why wasn't he fleeing? "Thor please, you have to take me back!" He was sobbing now, but all he received from Thor was a distraught apology before his face was replaced with the man who'd injected him, and he felt a sharp needle prick his arm. Lucidity filled him just as his vision grew dark, and he passed out with a final plea of, "Brother?"

He could hear before he could see again. He heard a faint beeping sound coming from beside him, a muttered conversation somewhere to the left, and a steady drip accompanying the beeping. He focused in on the conversation, straining to heard if it was his brother or not.

"I'm not sure what happened, but whatever it was caused him a lot of trauma. In my professional opinion, even though what happened in New York technically weren't his fault, he'll blame himself, so be ready for a lot of self-depreciation; whether it be in a joking way or serious."

"So you're saying we have no grounds to prosecute him at all?" A more serious, determined voice asked, as if oblivious to what the other man had just said.

"Not one death that came from his hand was his fault. Morally speaking, you have no right to even feel anger towards him."

He heard the rougher man scoff.

"If you want to put the blame on anyone, put it on the bastard that controlled him. He did a lot more than just try and steal from earth and make Loki kill; he tortured him." The more reasonable man's voice rose in something akin to anger.

"I thought you said you didn't know the specifics."

"You heard what he said to Thor. In my professional experience I can identify that as a panic attack, possibly even an effect of post-traumatic stress. He was reliving something and he was clearly the victim. You can't possibly think to treat him with even more punishment."

Silence for a few seconds.

"With all due respect, sir." The reasonable man was obviously intimidated by the rougher man, and feared him after speaking the truth.

Loki thought on this. So they weren't as dense as he thought they were. He tried not to wince at the reminder of his little 'episode' during the interrogation. As if having no control over his tongue wasn't enough, he had to degrade himself a bit more with a show of pathetic weakness. Loki hated himself for it.

"Just make sure he's sane enough to be around people. We need answers, and I have a feeling we won't need the truth serum to get them."

The rougher man must have left after that, because he heard a small sigh from the reasonable man and suddenly felt a hand on his arm. He hadn't even heard the man approach.

"Everything will be okay." The man patted his arm comfortingly. "I promise."

Loki knew nothing of this man, and didn't open his eyes to look at him, but he found genuine comfort in his words. He fell back asleep, hoping that when he awoke, the rough man wouldn't immediately throw him into a room full of Avengers expecting him to talk. He wanted to talk to his brother again, this time without the influence of Midgardian medicines, and alone.

He was situated in a large room, seated at a table of empty chairs. He clasped his hands together in front of him and tried to piece together his thoughts. They would not inject the truth serum into him, so he had free reign over what he could say. Control. He finally had some bit of control. However, he quickly ruled out lying. What would he lie about? Saying that it was truly him who'd caused the destruction of a Midgardian city would either get him punished on Midgard or sent back to Asgard; both were dreadful outcomes. He could lie and say he volunteered, taking some of the blame from the Other and lessening his inevitable punishment, but that would still lead to punishment.

Loki was not averse to being punished in this situation; an irrational, hostile part of him shouted into his ear, "This is all your fault" and "You deserve everything the Other give to you, you are nothing." He shut that part out and focused on what he'd say. He'd have to tell the truth.

But when he told the truth, then what would their reaction be? Would they pity him? No. He wouldn't go into specifics. He'd placate them with a much more appealing version of the reality. He'd give them information (mostly Thor) on how and where to find the Other, tell him his purpose, tell the others what he'd planned to do with the Tesseract, and answer all of their reasonable questions. They may offer asylum, he knew, and he'd graciously accept—only to satisfy them. He knew the offer would be for their own assurance that he wouldn't wreak havoc and only half of the offer would be for his own safety. But he knew he wouldn't be safe. Humans are stubborn and prideful, so they'll believe they can defeat the Other. Let them believe it. It will give them hope. Loki had no such hope.

His thoughts were interrupted by a door opening, and people filing in. First came a few unfamiliar faces, serious masks covering their so obviously frightened souls. Then came the Avengers, the team that defeated him, and the Chitauri. His eyes stopped at the Man of Iron. The man that risked his own life—gave it up—to stop the destruction of the world he loved so much. Loki couldn't help but admire the man's selflessness; it wasn't a human trait. If it was up to Loki, and if he had the power, he would commend him by bestowing upon him demi-god status. But as it was, Loki only had control of his basic body functions, so as the rest of the people filed in he cowered back into his chair and tried not to feel intimidated.

His brother was the last in, and his eyes immediately search for Loki. He found him, and relief was evident in the way his shoulders relaxed and he let out a sigh. He came and sat next to him, silently asking of his health with his eyes. Loki glanced at him for only a moment, trying not to think of their last encounter, and looked down at his folded hands. He missed the way Thor's shoulder slumped and the expression of hurt that covered his face.

A man stood, the dark one with an eye patch, and directed his one eye at Loki. Loki knew from growing up with a father—step father—with one eye that it was harder to read emotions when there was only one orb to gaze into; and Loki was the master of reading faces. The man instantly intimidated him.

"Loki, Laufeyson, I believe you know why you're here?" His voice was rough, and it struck Loki that the man in front of him was the one who was speaking to the reasonable man.

Loki nodded, bowing his head lower than necessary as a sign of submission. The easiest way to play this was humility, he decided.

"Good. Dr. Banner? Read out your diagnosis." He sat down in the chair that was at the head of the large table, and a shorter man stood. Loki recognized him as timid, and wondered where he fit in the whole scheme of things.

Dr. Banner cleared his throat. "Mr. Laufeyson has experienced major emotional, mental and some physical trauma cause by what Thor identifies as, "Thanos."

Before he can finish, Loki tenses at the formal use of the Other's name, and everyone looks as Thor rests his hand on Loki's balled up fists.

Dr. Banner continues, "In the events of the Chitauri attack of New York city, Loki had no control over his actions, or the deaths his body caused."

"We're not here to discuss guilt, Banner, just tell us your diagnosis." The one-eyed man commanded.

The doctor sighed, and the sigh was a familiar sound to Loki. He pieced it together and realized that the reasonable man was Dr. Banner. The one standing up for his innocence. The one who promised it'd be okay. "Mr. Laufeyson suffers from PTSD, also known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or shell shock. He cannot be held accountable for his actions."

The one-eyed man nodded and Dr. Banner sat down.

Thor stood, moving his hand from Loki's and causing Loki to feel a sting of loss. Thor glanced back down at his brother wistfully and began to give a background history on the Other. Loki shut out his entire speech, and instead went to work memorizing each other the Avengers and how they'd injured him, and how he'd (unwillingly) injured them. By the time Thor was finished, he had worked himself up with the regret of the mindless killing and the memories of the Chitauri attacking. He maintained his calm on the outside, but the second Thor took his seat again his fingers were searching for his brother's. Thor was surprised by Loki's unusual outreach for affection, but reciprocated it and took his hand in his, stroking his thumb over Loki's palm as a gesture of comfort.

The meeting went on, and every Avenger gave their opinion on Loki's disposition and what they should do with him. Natasha said that if he wasn't in control of his actions, and he was forced to do something he didn't want any part of, he needed their protection and help. The Man of Iron's eyes became unfocused, and he muttered something about understanding having to kill against your will before retorting some sarcastic remark about the hospitality of the Other. Dr. Banner (Loki had figured out over the course of the meeting that Dr. Banner was the large green creature that had smashed him into oblivion and was still confused as to the compassion this man had shown him) echoed Natasha but added that Loki would need therapy and a neutral environment to return back to his full mental health. When it came to Clint, Loki flinched in advance. Clint barked out two simply put words, "Kill him." Loki knew to expect hostility from some, but wasn't prepared for how much it stung; being persecuted for a monstrosity he didn't willingly commit. Thor's hand tightened around his and Loki drew his attention to the Captain as he gave a small speech about seeing soldiers who were shell shocked and no one understanding 'back then'. He concluded that Loki's condition warranted help and that he would be happy to help him in any way he could. He directed the statement to Loki, so Loki nodded in thanks but said nothing further. Loki waited for Thor's turn, but the one-eyed man spoke instead.

"I think we all know Thor's opinion on the matter." His eye pointed in the direction of Loki and Thor's entwined hands and everyone nodded, including Thor. "So now it's time to hear from Mr. Laufeyson." He leaned forwards on the table and stared into Loki's soul with that one, terrifying eye. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Loki's silver tongue moved smoothly over his explanation of his inability to make his own decisions until Thor interrupted him and said, "What did they do to you, Loki?" He said it quietly enough so that everyone at the table could hear it, but it took Loki a moment to register the question. There were so many different answers.

"I'd rather not go into that, if you all wouldn't mind?" He asked humbly, begging with his heart that they'd drop it and cursing with his mind at Thor for bringing it up.

"No I think we need all the details." Clint spoke up, seeing how uncomfortable Loki already looked at the mention of explaining.

Loki looked to the leader of the group, and the one-eyed man nodded in agreeance with Clint.

Loki sighed and lowered his eyes. "After I fell, as Thor told you I did, they caught me. They were going to kill me until they realized that I was…valuable." He stopped, bracing himself for what he was about to relate. "They asked me to help them, they gave me a choice, I could take over Earth willingly and retrieve the tesseract, and in return I'd be heralded King of Midgard, but—" He stopped, feeling all the eyes in the room on him. "But I refused. I had just tried to commit genocide and I'd learned my lesson. I didn't want to kill anyone. They don't take no for an answer." He forced a wry smile. "They tortured me, and even when the torture was too great and I agreed, they continued to torture me, I know now that they were conditioning me. So that when the bond of control was broken I'd still be loyal to him." He closed his eyes and shook his head. He felt the memories crowding in on him, they were flashing in front of him and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Then he felt something cover him, a blanket, perhaps. He opened his eyes and saw that it was his brother, hugging him. He looked to his face and saw the tears streaming down.

"Forgive me for not seeing you. Every day I asked Heimdall, he saw nothing. I'm so sorry for leaving you in that place of torment." Loki rolled his eyes, but with no malice in the gesture.

"There was nothing you could do, you oaf. Now let go of me, I'm fine." Loki put on his brave voice and tried to push away from his brother's heavy chest plate.

"But I am not fine, brother." Thor continued to cry, but let go of Loki so that he could seat himself properly again.

All the eyes in the room were fixated on the pair, as if their exchange was all the confirmation they needed. But then Loki remembered what he'd confessed, and lowered his head again. "I know you think you can keep me safe here, and I do not doubt your capabilities, but the Other—" He faltered. "He will find me."

The people in the room protested, save Clint, and preached on about their advanced technology and resources, and Loki nodded along. He smiled and thanked Tony Stark when he was offered a place to stay, he accepted the hug from Captain America, he nodded in appreciation at the Black Widow's promise to not let harm come to him, and he squeezed his brother's fingers back when he vowed never to leave his side again. When Bruce came around the table and stood before Loki, he smiled a timid smile and shrugged.

"The other guy doesn't really like you, but I'll try my best to make you whole again." He patted him on the shoulder, a touch reminiscent of how he'd patted his arm in the hospital. "I promise."

Loki's face broke into a smile; a genuine one, not forced to placate the helpful and hopeful people around him. "Thank you."

Loki's life went on in a very event-free environment. Stark tower held a whole floor dedicated to Loki, where everything was to his liking and nothing was out of place. Loki had weekly therapy sessions with Dr. Banner, and they were the only time Thor was not by his side.

Months later, word came back from Asgard that the Other had been found, and executed. Loki didn't know whether to dance with glee or fear that it was an untruth. Eventually though, he decided that it was true, and a weight was lifted from his shoulders.

The Captain and he became friends, occasionally going for coffee and every once in a while sparring together.

The last therapy session Loki had with Dr. Banner was an emotional one. For Bruce, mostly. Loki smiled his true smile and put a hand on the emotional doctor's shoulder. "You've done a fine job, Dr. Banner. You've made me whole again, just like you promised."

The doctor sniffed. "I'm just glad that you're doing better." He wiped his eyes with a tissue that Loki passed him.

"Yes. I'm doing much better." Loki assured him.

Bruce smiled and nodded, tossing the tissue in the trash can beside his desk. "Good. Then promise me something?"

Loki quirked an eyebrow but replied with, "Anything."

"That you'll forget your past, and focus on your present." Another sniff. "And have dinner with me?"

Loki chuckled and embraced the doctor again. "I promise."

The end.