AN: I apologise for the constant delays. In all honesty I've been feeling a lot like Loki myself, and thus am finding it difficult to write as much as I once did. But I promise I will finish this piece eventually, perhaps some time soon.

Chapter Thirteen

It was four days before the next fire. Two days until the next. After that, it was every night. Tony knew that he should have been worried or suspicious like the rest of the team, but he couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew what it was like to have panic attacks, to have nightmares about the past. And he had brought those memories back to the front of Loki's mind. How strange that it was Loki who had caused his own sleepless nights, but Tony didn't see the same Loki before him now. This wasn't the man who had done all that, not anymore. If anyone could see that, he would have thought it would be Clint. He had been possessed by the Sceptre, he had served in the same way Loki had. The only difference was he had been a foot soldier, and Loki had been a lieutenant.

Thor was compassionate, but sometimes Tony saw something else in his eyes, when Loki wasn't there. Suspicion. How many tricks has his brother played on him in the past? Thor knew Loki better than any of them, though. Maybe he was right? Loki was, is, the Trickster God. Maybe this could all still be a part of his plan.

Tony shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. Every night they plagued him, but as soon as he saw the frail creature that was the Asgardian Trickster God he knew it wasn't the case. Tony noticed things that nobody else did. Loki had been eating less, and hiding from sleep. What little progress was made was being slowly undone as the frequency of his unconscious conjugations increased. He was trying to weaken himself to make it stop. Tony could only hope that it was only the magic he wanted to stop, and not his life altogether, but the signs seemed to point against that.

Loki had started talking to Bruce now, or, rather, he let Bruce talk to him. He still rarely spoke himself, even though it was within his capabilities. Tony kept trying to get him to say something, anything, before he became to weak to cast his illusions again. Instead he just listened to his words and read his books.

Aside from the fires, there were no other 'incidents'. He almost always had someone with him, and Jarvis kept an eye on him, but from the third time his bed caught aflame he had stopped trying to escape the fire until he saw Tony or Thor arrive to put it out. From that night on Tony left his machine, Dummy, in the room with a fire extinguisher, and he set up a rudimentary sprinkler system.

After the first week of constant nightly infernos and constant protests from the rest of the team, Tony started to wonder just how long this could go on. Perhaps Thor should have taken him home. It's what they all argued for, and even Bruce had been converted to their cause. In all honesty, Tony didn't know why he argued. It made sense for him to return home, but from everything he knew of Asgard it seemed like that was the last place Loki would want to be. He tried telling himself that Loki was a criminal, or that he was a prince of that realm or that was his home or where he could best be helped, but Tony didn't believe a word of it. All he saw was a man on the edge of a knife, and he didn't want to upset the balance if he didn't have to. His ruminations never came to anything, except the bottom of a bottle of whiskey or scotch.

Loki had tried not to sleep anymore but, as always, he failed. As a god, he could go without sleep for a long time, but when coupled with hunger that wasn't the case. He was an Asgardian and a Frost-Giant, and he had to eat like one. The lack of food weakened him severely, and thence weakened his magic, but it caused him to sleep and in his sleep he dreamed.

It took him less than a week to decide between eating and staying powerful, or going without and weakening himself. He went with the latter not because it minimised the damage, if that had been the case his first choice would surely have been more effective, but because it allowed him to punish himself. He knew it was selfish, knew it was ridiculous, but for those few moments he got what he deserved and he got distraction, and nobody could take those few brief moments away.

He often wondered how Jarvis worked, and whether he would be able to see through illusions, but he had no way to ask or test the theory without giving away his intentions. Everything now was just too slow. All he was doing was existing in a world that had no place for him.

Tony broke him out of his reverie when he entered the room and placed a book on the bed beside him, and Loki smiled slightly when he saw the title. That novel had occupied a space on the bedside table ever since Tony first gave him a copy, and it had burned beyond use a few days before. He didn't realise Tony had noticed his attachment to it. He immediately flicked it open to the first page and tried to lose himself in the world of elves and dwarves and little half sized people, not even looking at his host as he did so. He didn't notice Tony stumble slightly as he went to lean on the wall beside the door.

"What do we do from here?"

Loki pretended not to hear the muttered words, but Tony repeated them louder and more surely.

"We can't keep this up forever, Loki. It's been weeks, months maybe, I don't even know. SHIELD are getting suspicious, and some of the team are getting impatient. You can't stay in this cycle of self destruction forever. Thor wants to take you home, and maybe... Maybe he's right."

That caused Loki to flinch. They couldn't send him back there, back to that hell where the very air kept him strong. They couldn't give him to the doctors, or the head doctors, he wouldn't have it. Tony wouldn't, couldn't, betray him. Not anymore. Hadn't things changed? Didn't they see he didn't want to hurt them anymore? Didn't they see that he just didn't care anymore?

Loki shook his head adamantly, still staring at the words on the page but not taking them in, and Tony slowly made his way over and perched on the end of the bed with his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do. It's not like we can get you a psychiatrist or anything. Even if we could a lot of people would have some very good points for arguing that you don't deserve one." That stung Loki deeply, but he knew it was true so he remained silent as Tony continued. "I don't even know what I want to happen. If you get better you'll be you again and that's not good but if you don't you'll still be this and that's not good and oh god there's nowhere to go from here there's no way for this to end well..." His words trailed off into mumbling, and Loki finally looked at him properly.

His clothing was dishevelled, his hair ruffled, and there were dark stains on his white shirt. He was intoxicated, Loki realised, at the same moment he noticed the half finished bottle of some alcohol or other in his hand. Tony took a swig from the bottle and fell back across the bed, staring at the plain white ceiling above him.

"Dunno whattado," he mumbled, the words mixing together in his drunken confusion.

Loki left him there, shutting himself in the en suite. He returned to his usually position, back against the door and head in his hands. So, even Tony. Even Tony wanted to send him back there. What a fool he had been to think he could begin to trust.