I see the danger, it's written in your eyes

Loki's sitting in the bathroom again when they come. He doesn't know why. Why the scientist helped him or why he's sitting on the tile floor? Maybe because it's the only place where there aren't cameras showering every corner of the cell.

He has in head in between his knees, listening to the constant drip of the leaky sink. He knew that he should've felt something. But he'd long since given up on pathetic emotions. He was prepared to sit on the floor for the rest of his godly life, whether he wanted to or not.

It was the angry knock on the door that surprised him. Barely holding back a relieved, mangled, gasp. He hated Fury, absolutely despised him. But he had reached the point where he would do anything for even a drop of social contact.

Because he might even be willing to try and show Fury that he can't talk. Just so that he won't be so alone. So that maybe he can have food for the first time in weeks.

"Loki? You in there?" A voice calls out. Only, it's not Fury. It's Banner. Banner is talking to him. Asking and waiting for an answer.

And he tries to open his mouth. Tries to give Banner a reply to some degree. But he's just so tired. His lips are slack, refusing to move. The world turned various shades of yellow when he jerked his head up.

"Loki? I'm coming in," Banner says. And Loki can't even make a feeble noise of protest. He just wants to be done. He's given up on looks and pride. He knows that the Fates are cackling down at him from Yggsdrail.

Loki just turns his head back onto his knees, trying not to notice the way Banner's looking at him like a hurt puppy. He knows he's not looking the greatest. He knows that. The mirror tells him those insults every time he has the energy to stand. He's aware of how the baby blue prison garments seem to hang off his frame, the way his bones jut out of his skin. He's aware more than anyone that he looks like a disaster and a mess. He just doesn't need Banner to point it out.

And then the scientist is crouching down, hesitantly looking at him with his big brown eyes. "Loki... what happened?" He trails off because he knows the answer. It's a rhetorical question because anyone who took a look at him for a second would see the state he's in. And even if Loki could answer, he wouldn't anyway. He didn't need Banner to see how weak he was. Banner was here for a reason and it sure as Hel wasn't to help him.

Banner stares at him for a couple more seconds before he sighs and stands up, walking back out of the room much to Loki's relief. He hates this. He hates how small and insignificant he feels compared to Banner. He knows he said he didn't care but Banner was an Avenger. A companion of Thor's misfit friends.

Loki just bit his lip, ignoring the bitter tears hiding behind his eyes. He can't do this. Can't deal with Banner coming in only to judge and poke fun at him to the world. He's just so... tired. He isn't even sure of what anymore. He's just, tired. Tired and hoping that maybe death will be the catch-all nap he needs.

Bruce was seconds away from releasing the Hulk and smashing Fury into a giant blob of meat. Sure, Loki was a villain, he needed to pay for his crimes. Bruce agreed with that as much as the next person. But that? The way that Loki looked at him? The tired, dull eyes with monstrous purple eye circles underneath? The cheeks that caved inwards? A small, trembling body that reminded him of a person in hospice, he was certain that the god didn't even notice the shaking.

And that was the strangest part, he was a god. Not a civilian who screamed when they stubbed their toe. He was the god who had the ego to ask for a drink after getting attacked by the Hulk. He had murdered Phil without even batting an eyelash. He wasn't supposed to be... well, weak.

Bruce was still fuming when he marched into the conference room with the rest of the team. In all honesty, he hadn't kept in contact with the team, although he had been trying to run away from SHIELD in his defense. But he had gotten the main gist from blabbermouthed Tony.

Steve and Nat had been camping out at another SHIELD location in Washington D.C. Bruce never really thought he would see the day where Captain America became a spy, but, there they were. Tony had been enjoying life in his fancy Stark Tower. Clint had been on some month-long mission to Iowa of all places. And Thor was still off-world. He had mentioned something about a rainbow bridge being destroyed so he wouldn't be able to visit Earth. That raised the question of why Loki was here, but Bruce wasn't going to investigate. Researching magical teleporting was way too far out of his pay grade.

He walked into Tony arguing with Fury about harboring the 'dangerous' criminal. Although, from the looks of it, Bruce doubted said criminal could even throw a ball of yarn five feet. So promptly ignoring what Tony had been saying, he marched right up to Fury, holding a finger up to his face.

"You asshole!" Bruce shouted. Surprising even himself with his word choice. But the situation called for it and he specifically told Fury to keep a close eye on him and it's obvious that they did the exact opposite. He knows that he looks like a deranged animal but he can't help it. This is America, the land of the free. This type of stuff isn't supposed to happen. America was supposed to be a safe haven for all.

Only that's not true. And Bruce knows it more than anyone. And he'd be damned if he let that happen to someone else.

But he's smart enough to know that he can't chew out the director of the nation's intelligence agency. At least, not yet. So instead he turned to a very confused slightly concerned team, "With me. Now," he growled before anyone got the chance to protest.

He ignores the sarcastic remarks from Tony and Steve over worrying about him letting the Other Guy out. But the Other Guy isn't the one they should be worried about.

"Bruce?" Nat asked, finally breaking through his racing mind, "Are you okay? What's actually going on?"

And he wants to answer. He does, but he can't. Because all he could think about was how exhausted Loki looked, the books he was able to scrounge up about him and the dwarves.

So Bruce and the Avengers arrive at the cell, and he glares at the nearest guard, who thankfully is smart enough to open the door.

Loki hadn't expected anyone to come back. He knew that Banner had called out to him, but he had later assumed it had been a mistake. Because nobody wanted him. Nobody wanted the cast out runt of Jotunheim.

He still hasn't moved off the bathroom floor when there's another knock. But this time he doesn't even bother to look up. He can't take it anymore. The possible hope of having somebody talk to him only to be disappointed is too much. So he really is surprised to hear Banner's voice again.

"Loki? I-I'm coming in. And I brought a couple of friends," Banner says, and before Loki even has time to react, the door is blown off it's hinges with a blast and a flash of gold and red.

And the worst part is that he knows who it is. He knows who Banner's 'friends' are, who are silently judging him. And he finds himself waiting for the Thorish loudness, but there isn't any. Thor doesn't care about him and he was a fool for believing that he might.

He couldn't deal with them. Physically or mentally. He couldn't deal with Stark or Rogers or Banner or... Barton. Maybe he could deal with Barton. Barton, who forced him to eat when his mind was not his own. Who helped him stand when his body felt like fire.

So he took the time to move his head up, looking directly into the archer's shocked eyes. Grateful when he took a step forward, crouching down beside him. Silently extending a hand to help.

"Jesus, Reindeer Games. What happened to you? You look like you went through torture,"

Loki snapped his head up as he fights back a bitter laugh. Because what can he say? He was the Silvertongue without his words. Thor without his hammer and Stark without his suit. What is he but nothing more than a powerless Jotun runt? But he deserves it. The Allfather decreed it and Frigga said that everything he does has a purpose. So he deserves it. The literal King of the nine realms told him so.

"Loki!" Barton screeched, ripping Loki from the negative spiral. He's vaguely aware of Barton shooting Stark a glare as he tries pulling Loki up, only for most of his weight to fall onto Barton's shoulders.

"Shit, did you?" Stark asked, still staring at the God, a little concerned.

Loki just squeezes his eyes shut. He can't do this. He can't deal with the questions, the stares, and the judgment. Anything. He just wants to go home. But he doesn't have one.

"Loki, can Cap carry you?" Barton said. And Loki knows that he should let him. He knows that it'd be easier on everyone if he let Cap carry him. But he can't. He doesn't want to be treated like a child in need of assistance.

And he's thankful that apparently both Barton and Cap get this gist, as Barton just continues to assist him out of the room.

He hates this. He's weak and vulnerable in front of the very people who were dead set on destroying him a year ago. He can't take it. The glares that the guards send him and the electric sticks in their hands.

They almost make it to the exit when they see Fury standing in front of the door.

"Where are you taking him?" He growled, venom lacing his words.

Stark opens his mouth to no doubt say some snarky remark but Banner beats him to it. "To the Stark Tower,"

That caused the billion to whip his head around, "What? You dragged me into the mess and now you're making the murderous psychopath stay with me?"

The murderous psychopath in question has most of his weight on the hawk. Still swaying slightly and looking as though he was seconds away from passing out.

Bruce sighed, turning from the wilted god, "Because after what SHIELD did to him? You're the only person I trust," and he probably had the proper medical equipment for the extremely malnourished Loki. "Now, come on," He said, gesturing to the black SUV Nat had driven them in, "Let's go,"