Disclaimer: As always with fanfiction, I don't own anything, all credit goes to the fantabulous Stan Lee, and the BBC

Darkness. Harsh light. Screaming then harrowing silence. The Other felt no pity, no guilt, no empathy. The only respite Loki had was in the memories of his time in the other universe. Rose's universe.

The only thing keeping him from breaking under the Other's torture was hope. Hope that she would return, that she would realise, whilst in the arms of her precious Doctor, that she would rather they were another's arms. That in the middle of the night she would find comfort in the same memories that he did in this dark realm.

Loki remembered the desolation of the Void, the pain as he met the ground of an unknown world with a sickening thud. He also remembered her gentle touch, lifting him from the ground, her comforting words in their strange accent that grated at first, but soon became familiar.

He remembered the way that she had protected him from the ever watchful claws of that Torchwood, the smiles that shone through the heavy despair that formed like fog when thoughts of Asgard, of his father, of Thor, crept their way into his mind to taunt him.

Loki chose not to remember the way that beneath every laugh, and every new experience she had shown him, their lay something else, holding her back, drawing her away and towards the cannon, the other universe and the other life.

At the mercy of the Other, that dug and scraped at the recesses of his mind, Loki chose to forget how his Rose had left one day, tears in her eyes as they fought and she, as he had known she always would, used the cannon and chased after her Doctor. He forgot the anger and the grief that had led him to lash out and leave the safety of the other world; he understood the technology, the cannon could have been ready months before had he not wanted to keep Rose to himself. When she did, he no longer cared where he was; he just couldn't stand the constant reminders of another who no longer wanted him.

As the Other ripped and tore at his very being, showing him wars and genocides and the darkest corners of the universe, Loki remained sane only by clinging to the hope that his Rose would remember, and come to save him, as he would have done for her, as the Doctor didn't.

One night, or it might have been day, months or years into the endless cycle of torture, Loki was awakened by a light. As he lifted his head, just for a moment, his eyes fell upon a face that made him wonder for a second if he had finally gone mad. Before him stood his Rose, glowing brighter than any goddess of Asgard, shining despite the suffocating darkness. Her hand was outstretched, as if to reach out to him, and her eyes were filled with grief, leaking tears as she took in the mess before her. Loki found that he could not move, his voice was wasted from the endless screaming.

Loki reached out to touch her, to grasp the promise of sanctuary presented to him.

The moment he stumbled forward, the image of Rose vanished, turned to smoke in the air, and the blossom of hope that had ignited in his chest was extinguished.

With one last rattling sob, Loki fell to his knees, and allowed himself to be subjugated by the Other. He allowed the madness to encircle him, and his mind to be filled with thoughts of Midgard, and vengence upon those that had first slighted him.

I'm sorry for the angst