I carry band-aids: steve x loki

lost

This work will contain graphic violence of torture, suicidal ideation, and other things - that some people might find disturbing - in future chapters. Basically, this is a warning for dark theme. I'll put a trigger warning at the beginning of each chapter if the chapter contains any triggering materiel, but please proceed with caution. ♡

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If Loki could turn back time, he wouldn't do what he did - while being captured by S.H.I.E.L.D - and escape with the Tesseract when the opportunity presented itself at his feet. Oh, that was a mistake, and he learned it the hard way.

He had thought then that he could be free. Free of Thanos. Free of Thor and whatever punishment was waiting for him on Asgard. Well, technically speaking, he did rid himself of the Mad Titan and Asgard's Golden Prince, only that what was waiting might be just as worse.

The Tesseract didn't take him far. Somehow, Loki slipped from Thor's hand and into HYDRA's. He couldn't slip away from HYDRA and their never-ending torture, not when they stripped him out of his magic and restrained him on a cold, metal table where they would suck out his blood, cut him open and study each and every part of his organs like a defenseless lab rat.

What they were trying to archive, what they wanted from him, Loki wouldn't know. They never told him anything. In fact, they never spoke a word to him, only about him over his head as though he weren't a person but merely a subject. A thing. An animal they performed a vivisection on. That was what he was.
They never called him by his name, or as far as Loki was aware of, to them, he was Subject 196 - his pronounce wasn't he but it.

And as days went by, Loki started to believe that; that Loki was dead. Long gone. What remained was Subject 196. A thing belonged in HYDRA's cell. HYDRA's creation. The only times he was allowed outside were when they dragged him out to the lab to cut him open on that table. Never once was he allowed to see the sun. The sun? He hadn't seen that in what felt like forever he'd forgotten what it looked like, how it felt to feel the warmth of sunlight kissing his skin.

As nights went by, he'd finally - thankfully - came to realization, and accepted there wouldn't be any rescue coming his way. Thor - was his name Thor? Loki wasn't sure. It'd been so long and his memories were foggy. It left him lost and confused and his skull would crack, if he thought too hard - wasn't going to come. His brother - if Loki had a brother, he believed he did, but with those strong drugs and tranquilizer running through his veins, he wouldn't know for sure -  had no idea where he was. After all Loki was the one running away, wasn't he?

(And it did feel better this way; him not expecting any help to come. Because there was nothing worse than waiting for someone to come and rescue him when no one was coming)

He used to scream himself to sleep until he ran out of voice, or until his throat felt like it bled and his lungs burnt. Loki wasn't sure which one came first, but it took him perhaps a year and a half to surrender, to submissively crawl into the corner of his cell - once they brought him back, and slept quietly, grateful they left him alone for the night.

Weeks turned into months and months turned into years. Loki's only company was darkness surrounding the cold of his cell. The only thing keeping him going was the reassurance thought, he summoned in a pathetic attempt to comfort himself, that this wouldn't last forever. In the end, he would die. Eventually, he would die. And once he died, it would all be over. They couldn't hurt him in death.

His only hope was that death would come soon enough.