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"Stark, what the fuck is he doing here?" Clint growled, arrow already notched and aimed at Loki's forehead, whose eyes were wide with fear. Tony dropped the knife, moving round the table to push in front of him. Clint lowered his bow slightly, but his face remained royally pissed off. Natasha appeared behind him, hand flying to her gun. Her eyes swept the room, locking on the God of Mischief, who had left his seat and crouched, shaking, in the corner of the kitchenette that was furthest from the assassins. The black widow holstered her gun, approaching the God with unexpected hesitancy. Tony watched, tense, ready to jump to Loki's aid if necessary.

"What happened to him?" She murmured, kneeling in front of him, not touching, nor so close as to scare him. She looked almost....concerned, Tony thought.

"Odin." Clint whipped around to face Steve and Bruce, entering from the balcony. Steve moved rapidly across the room, pushing Clints bow down in his surprise. If the Cap and Banner were in on this too...he could wait, but he wanted an explanation, fast. He said so, fists clenched, and nodded tightly as Bruce suggested they all move to the living room.

Tony sat on a stool over by the bar area, Steve and Bruce taking seats either side of Loki on the couch, keeping to the sides so Loki had enough room in the middle not to be uncomfortable. They had placed soft cushions behind him, realizing he was still recovering from heavy injuries, and wanting to avoid any pain on his part. Natasha sat in the chaise opposite, and Clint sat on the arm of the chair.

"I want to know what's going on here, Tony, what the hell is he doing back in our realm and what do you mean, Odin did it to him? What did he do? Why haven't you sent the bastard back, Stark?"

Steve took a deep breath, jumping in on this one, tone clipped and stern. "I found him. In an Alley. Terrified and alone, covered in blood, afraid to be touched....With his lips sewn shut"

Loki flinched at this, sinking back into the sofa with a wince on his tender back. Clint looked vaguely green, but Natasha remained stoic. The only thing that gave away her horror was the light in her eyes and the sharp intake of breath. Bruce let his breath out, standing to pace the room, continuing steadily after the disturbing revelation.

"Tony and Steve brought him back to the tower. He was covered in stab wounds and cuts, and he flinched when you so much as spoke to him. I cut the thread out..and stitched up his wounds-" another sharp intake of breath from Loki and Bruce shot him a sympathetic glance, "but he wouldn't talk. Wouldn't eat, hasn't for a long time. Tried to throw himself off of the balcony yesterday, when he heard Thor was coming. Odin ordered this his punishment. After he got controlled and raped by the Chitauri, and his mind invaded, which might I remind you, you told us Clint, so don't forget he was controlled even more so than you were, his father ordered this on him." Bruce sat rapidly back in his seat, his fingers gripping hard to the sofa as green tinged his vision, taking deep breaths until it cleared. Clint had a hand clapped over his mouth by now, and Natasha had a sole tear at the edge of her left eye, the only betrayal to her inner emotions. Tony was nursing a tumbler of scotch, and Steve had his eyes fixed with Loki's, determined not to put his own emotions before the traumatised Tricksters, helping the God through the deep breathing he so clearly needed right now. They sat in silence for a moment, no one having words to give, Clint and Natasha seeming neutralized for the time being.

"My friends? Brother? What is occurring?" Thor peaked in through the doors from the balcony, relieved to see his safe with his friends although rushing over at the distress on his face, pulling him in for a hug that was accepted with only a slight wince from the Trickster God. Loki seemed more comfortable around Thor than Tony or the others, but he figured that was because Loki knew where he stood with Thor. The others..he had never been given much reason to trust, until now.

Clint swallowed, seeing how much turmoil was evident in the eyes of his former enemy, the wince as he was held, and the desperation with which Thor clung to his brother, as though afraid he would be stolen from him. "It's fine, buddy, we were just a little confused when we say Loki here, that's all. It's fine. Me and Nat are gonna go to our rooms now...no offence. We're still not too comfortable around him, and I don't think he's very keen to be with us right now either."

He pulled Natasha from her seat by the hand and they both left the living room, mumbling quietly together. Natasha was less averse to the idea of Loki being around than he was, she saw the damage that had been done to him from the moment they set eyes on him, the way he no longer held himself with any confidence, how he acted like he would like nothing better than to sink into the floor. Clint...he didn't blame Loki too much for the Chitauri incident, after all it was him that pointed out the mind control symptoms the God displayed...it was just difficult to forget his voice in his mind, the utter complacency to his whim, and the shame it had caused once he had awoken.

He'd sleep with his bow under his pillow for a few nights, just in case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Loki, Loki can you hear me?" Green eyes shot upwards to meet brown, his head bopping in a nod as the doctor let his shirt fall down, the deity hissing as it made contact with his wounds.

"Sorry, you were in a kind of daze. You're not healing as well as I'd hoped, but the staples Tony put in are holding, which is luck considering how much running around you've been doing, and my negligence of checking up on you. You've got a slight fever, but none of your wounds seem infected, but I'll give you something for it nonetheless. Now come on, Tony made smoothies, Clint and Natasha aren't going to bother us, and then you're going to rest some more, even if it's just on the couch, watching movies. We'll have a lazy day. You need something to eat and drink first though. You okay to do that for us?"

Loki nodded reluctantly. Bruce sighed softly. He had dealt with all kinds of illness, but trauma was not his strong point. He guessed they could only take it slow, and hope that everyone could help support them. He watched as Loki stood, sitting next to his brother at the table, leaning into his shoulder as the Thunder God wrapped an arm around him. Though it confused them, Loki seemed to take more comfort in Thor now than ever, which usually would've had the Thunderer beaming like a kid at Christmas. Now however, he wasn't really in the mood for smiling.

Thor let his fingers card through Loki's soft black hair, gently, for he knew he had sustained head injury, he had been told so by Banner. He frowned as he felt the rush of magic beneath his fingers, he had always been able to feel Loki's magical core, but it felt so much stronger now, and coiled in him like a serpent. He closed his eyes in worry as he considered why.

"Brother" He whispered softly, knowing the others could still hear him, but not wanting to make it seem as though he was discussing their affairs with the whole room. "Why have you restricted your magic? You will make yourself ill."

Thor held tighter to his brother as he felt him tense, releasing him suddenly at the hiss of pain it elicited from him.

"Punished" Loki whispered, head hanging in shame, flush rising to his cheeks. "Punished...for magic." It was the most Loki had said at any one time since arrival, and he appeared terrified of having done so. While the others were pleased, the conversation didn't exactly inspire glee in them. Bruce had shut his book with a snap, making the God of mischief flinch as the scientist rounded on the Thunder God.

"Did you say not using his magic is going to make him sick? Could that be why he has a fever, but no infection?" Thor frowned, confused. It was always odd for him to talk to those who didn't understand his brothers magic, simply because he had grown up around it.

"Of course. Loki's magic is part of his life force. It builds inside him, a force mightier than a hundred foul bilgesnipe. It needs a release, or the energy eats away at him, and makes him ill. He has been withholding the force of it for far too long, I fear. I noticed he looked pale and ill on arrival, but I thought it part of his injury. Now you have noticed he is fevered, I know it is his magic." He put a hand to his brothers forehead, feeling the emanating heat for himself. "Loki, you will not be punished for using your magic here. It is a good thing. It could help you, you know this. You do not wish to make yourself so ill, do you?"

Loki shook his head, trembling. He could feel the magic building within him, he ached to use it, ached to be free of the pressure it inflicted on him, of the pain it caused as it burned him from the inside, kept trapped within for too long. But the memories overpowered his will. The memory of the pain he was put through in the dungeons of Asgard, by the guards that wanted nothing more than to have their way with him, to get their own back for the devastation he had caused their realm. He felt tears spill from his eyes and turned away from his brother, flinching as he crashed straight into Bruce. He couldn't stand them all seeing him so weak, so vulnerable, but he couldn't help the longing he had to be near them. To feel safe and protected. He crumpled into the smaller mans shoulder, sobbing, feeling the other man rubbing warm hands up and down his back. He felt himself being picked up by the surprisingly strong scientist, and then lain down on the sofa, a blanket wrapped over him. He felt the warmth of his brothers hand in his own, felt Tony lift his feet and sit beneath them, a comforting presence without being overbearing. He heard Steve turn the television on to a mindless soap opera, and felt, more than saw, Bruce Banner sitting on the floor in front of him, offering up a glass of water and a box of tissues. Without word, he took both, putting the tissues to the side and drinking the water to calm himself. He looked around the room, at these men who had been so kind to him, who were not judging him, who he felt safer around than anyone in the nine realms.

As they sat together, watching television until the late afternoon, Loki watched as the four men around him chatted amicably, going so far as to try and include him with his whiteboard and pen, and the use of nodding and shaking his head as well, Loki resolved to heal, for them. For these men he longed to call 'friends'.

He didn't feel he deserved them, yet.