What If... HYDRA Got Hold of Loki?

insomnia

Warnings: suicide

Pierce is gentle as he puts the collar on. He's careful with Loki's head; he's careful as he closes the collar somewhat loosely so it doesn't impede his breathing. It's nice of him; it's considerate. He appreciates the effort.

"All you have to do is stay awake," Pierce tells him. "The collar's gonna shock you every 30 seconds – not hard; just enough to keep you awake. Someone's going to come in and check on you every 12 hours; other than that, you can do whatever you want. That sound good?"

Whether it sounds good or not depends on the answer to one simple question: "Will I be allowed to eat?"

Pierce cracks a smile. "Don't worry; we'll keep you fed. I'll make sure they give you something when they come check on you tonight."

"Thank you, sir." At least he has something to look forward to. This is going to be a long, boring, lonely few days. His porridge might be the only thing that gets him through it.

~~~

It's Rumlow who comes in to check on him.

Loki hears him enter, but he doesn't pay him any mind. He sat–

Shock.

– down by the window when the sun began to set, and he doesn't plan to get up now. He doesn't often get to watch the sunset, so that was a wonderful surprise. The sun is long gone now, but the moon and the stars shine bright in the sky, and they're a much more pleasant sight than his least favorite SHIELD worker.

"Hey." Rumlow slides a bowl toward him.

Loki glances over his shoulder and uses his magic to bring it to him. He hopes it will be–

Shock.

– warm. It's not as though it's been sitting across the room from him throughout a test period the way it frequently does. It's fresh. He's just brought it. It should be nice and fresh.

It's cold.

Of course it's cold. It's Rumlow, after all, and Rumlow would never do something nice for him.

But porridge is porridge, so Loki lifts the bowl to his mouth and pours it in, chugging –

Shock.

He flinches, just enough that he spills the tiniest bit of his food. He catches it in his hand and stuffs it back in his mouth. He's not missing a drop of this.

"And some water." Rumlow tosses a plastic water bottle toward him, and it smacks the base of the window before rolling backward toward the god.

Loki looks over his shoulder, and Rumlow's gone.

Well.

So much for "checking in on him."

~~~

It's been a long night.

Nights don't usually bother him all too much. They're all the same to him. He sleeps in his cage, and he stays there until somebody lets him out. Sometimes he thinks it takes longer than a night – a couple of days, maybe – but he always spends the night in the darkness of his cage, and he always has somebody come to let him out.

He doesn't sleep in the cage tonight.

He doesn't sleep at all.

They leave the cage for him, of course. They don't frequently take it away from him. But even when–

Shock.

– he did try to curl up in it just for the sake of normalcy, consistency, he couldn't get comfortable with the collar electrocuting him every 30 seconds. He'd thought it would help: the tight space, the darkness of the blanket. He was wrong. He only lasted eight and a half minutes – and, for the first time in a long time, he can tell the time on his own. All it takes is to count the number of–