When they found him, he was crying, but the Agents showed him nothing that resembled compassion.

They bound him and threw him on the back of a van, all the while telling him that he was going to regret coming to earth again. That he was going to be sorry for all he'd done. And then, softly, and more closely, they told him that when they were finished with him he was going to wish he was never born.

They didn't need to do much for that – Loki already felt that way.

They left him alone in an interrogation room, handcuffed and barely able to move, chained to the floor with a very short chain. No one paid any importance to his wounds or the small trail of blood he was leaving behind him as he arrived. These Midgardians only cared to know if he was a threat – no, not if he was a threat, but what kind of threat he was, because they would never think that he could be anything else but evil. If he was there, there must have been a reason for his coming there. A harmful, terrible reason.

Fury came to the room, more than once, and asked what was his plan, who were his allies, how he had arrived to earth, how he had escaped imprisonment. He was not kind.

Loki said he didn't remember. Nobody believed him.

He only knew that he couldn't seem to use his magic anymore, and this thought depressed him like no other.

They tried more "effective" ways of interrogation but Loki never changed his version. He had told them, those humans, that they wouldn't get any more information, but they did try. It was no use – Loki was no stranger to torture, and he had suffered worse than the punishment these captors had concocted. He still cried, occasionally. The sadness was embedded in him, inerasable. But he tried to be whole and dignified when his interrogators came. Maybe at some point they would finally move him to a cell with a bed. Or maybe that was just asking for too much.

He slept very little and was often plagued by nightmares. Sometimes he wished he could just rest because he felt tired all the time. Constantly. And there were no places to rest in his little interrogation room, only two chairs, a table and a horrible enormous mirror in which he could see his awful reflection staring back at him. He was pale, his wounds were beginning to get infected (damn this planet and its microbiological life) and he looked like someone on his deathbed. They had stripped him of his precious armor, and was wearing now only a back cotton t-shirt and matching pants. No shoes.

He spent a lot of the time with his eyes closed, to avoid his reflection. Fury and the rest didn't like it, fearing he might need to have his eyes closed for some spell or to summon some army with his mystical powers. So they made him open his eyes, again and again, and he had to look at that reflection. Look at that failure of a person he had become. No, not even a person, he was beneath people of all kinds, as everybody enjoyed reminding him.

Nothing but a forsaken little monster.

After some time, they unchained him and he could move freely around the room. The first thing he did was sit with his back to the great mirror, so he wouldn't have to see his reflection ever again. He could sleep better, now that he was able to lie on the floor, even if his dreams were never pleasant.

They kept asking him things – things he couldn't answer.

After some more sessions of interrogation, Loki started to feel ill. His head hurt, pounded, he felt too cold and too hot at the same time, and he had terrible stomach pains. They didn't feed him much, but what they did, he was not able to keep down. He was sweaty and disgusting and in pain. At this point, Loki only wished to die.

Fury and the rest of SHIELD, fearing Loki might be to blame for a series of terrorist attacks while playing sick in his cell, called the Avengers to fill them in. They came relatively quickly, all except for Thor and Barton, who was in Asia on a mission. Thor was missing, and what was worse, so was his girlfriend, Jane Foster. No way of contacting them. Selvig told them that he had not heard of them for months.

The director told them how they found Loki a couple of months prior and how he kept refusing to talk. Then he told them about the attacks and why they thought Loki might be connected to them. It was all very circumstantial.

There was a video feed of the prisoner and Tony looked at it, with Steve behind him, while Romanoff and Fury discussed strategies. This looked nothing like the man they had defeated. This was a man in poor health, with many unattended wounds and an expression of pain in his face.

"I really hope he already had those wounds when you found him, Fury. All of them." Tony said, serious, interrupting the spies.

"We only did what was necessary to try to get him to talk, Stark. He is a terrorist. This is all strictly legal."

He had an idea of what Fury meant that they'd been trying to get him to talk and the injuries the god sported (missing fingernails, what looked like chemical burns on his forearms…) only supported his theory. Sometimes he hated having anything to do with those guys.

Fury insisted that they were only doing what was necessary to get sensitive information.

"Using nice words doesn't change what this is, Director."

Bruce appeared form behind him, adjusting his glasses as he looked into the picture.

"That's Loki? What's wrong with him? Or what isn't." Bruce said, looking at the footage. "And you think that guy has been pulling the strings of a major terrorist network while doubling over in pain? I don't know. If that's an act it's the most convincing one I have seen."

"Wait" Natasha said, suddenly. "Where's Rogers?"

Only seconds later they saw the Captain in the video feed, sitting on the floor, with his back to the mirror, next to the prisoner.

"Hello, Loki. Remember me?"

Loki looked at the man and vaguely recognized him. He supposed this was next on the long line of interrogators. At least he wasn't carrying any further instruments to interrogate him. Oddly enough, he hadn't brought anything to protect himself, either. No guns, no shields.

Loki nodded through pain-filled eyes.

"You don't look so good." The soldier mentioned.

Steve, looking at his former enemy, saw that in person he looked even worse than on the video. He was sweaty, too pale and thin and the long black hair stick to his neck. Not to mention the bruised look about his eyes or the many other small injuries that were visible. He was clutching his stomach with one hand and Steve could see that two of the fingernails were missing, the whole area surrounded by dried blood. Every now and then the alien closed his eyes and grabbed his stomach more forcefully while his other hand clutched his pants, trying to get free of the pain.

And no one was doing anything. This was no way of treating a prisoner.

Steve sighed and talked again.

"Why are you here, Loki? Why did you come to Earth?"

Maybe the soldier would believe his words – no harm in trying. Loki tried to breathe through the pain.

"I keep telling them - when I woke up, my magic was gone and I was here on Midgard. But I cannot recall what happened before it, or how I came to be here."

Steve nodded. Loki looked desperate enough to be telling the truth.

"So you have no harmful intentions."

"Even if I wanted to, I would not be able to do anything without my magic. I merely wish to know what happened. Is Thor with you?"

The Captain shook his head.

"We don't know where he is, I'm sorry. You have no idea of where he might be or how to contact him? Maybe he could shed some light on what you can't remember."

Loki looked at the Captain's blue eyes, hopeful. This particular mortal seemed to believe him. Could it be true? Could there be some hope for him left after all?

"I ignore where he is… I only remember flashes… something happened in Asgard. Heimdall is not answering me… But I think I could build a way of communication with your technology, if you would let me. And you could ask…"

Just then, he experienced the most intense pain so far, making him feel as if his stomach was being broken in little pieces and then burnt. He closed his eyes trying to control the scream of sheer pain caught in his throat. Why was this happening to him?

Maybe it was simply the fate he deserved. Even death was too sweet a punishment for him.

Steve watched, impotent, while Loki writhed in pain, clutching his stomach. Yes, Loki was dangerous, and yes, he should pay for his crimes, but leaving him in this cell while he was in agony (for whole days and weeks, even) was inhumane. And the pain was obviously not an act. He wished he could do something. Steve hated watching people suffer, no matter who they were.

While he was still lost in his pain Loki registered something cool in his forehead – a hand.

"God, you're burning up." Steve said.

He was liking this less and less. Loki was obviously quite sick, probably in a great part because of the terrible treatment he received from SHIELD. This was not right. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one to think that way. Just as the pain started to subside the door opened again and Stark appeared.

"Come on, sweaty. You're coming back to my place." He said.

"Why…?" Loki did not understand what was going on.

"Because I'm not going to sit back while a corporation I've worked for tortures someone. You come back to my place, we'll patch you up, you can build your space- communication thingie and maybe we'll understand what's going on."

"What about SHIELD?"

"SHIELD is dealing with a Hulk crisis right now, most of their men are on it. And Natasha has cleared a path for us. I honestly don't know why she's helping, but she is. But those cuffs stay put, just in case."

Steve nodded. THIS was the right thing to do. Not leaving a prisoner die without offering him a single glass of water.

"Can you walk?" He asked the god, who nodded. He offered his hand and Loki took it, but even with Steve's help it was difficult for him to stand. He almost wept with joy at the prospect of leaving that room for good.

They walked in silence, trying not to attract too much attention, through the building and heard the chaos the Hulk was causing. Tony smiled, despite the gloomy situation. This should teach them.

But before they even left the building the pain became too much and Loki closed his eyes, exhausted, and fell into the darkness.

The darkness always welcomed him.

A/N: I was sad, so I whumped Loki. Sorry, love!

Hope you liked. If you did, would you leave a small comment? Many thanks!