Marvel At What Could've Happened

Chapter 1

Okay, here's the deal. I've written two chapters to this story. If y'all like it, I'll keep going! If this story gets no response, or worse, a bad response, then I'll take it down or turn it into a one-shot. This means that: the fate of this story is in your, the reader's, hands. So, if you like it, let me know!! Vote and comment! Keep it going. I genuinely hope y'all enjoy :)

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It had been four days.  Loki was better, and yet he was also worse than he had ever been.  He had spent the last four days staring at the same walls and not talking to anybody because why bother?  He was sick and tired of his glass prison on the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier.  He wanted a real bed.  It was a good thing that he didn't have to do much in there because he wasn't sleeping, and he wasn't really eating either.  The floor was hard and the food was terrible.  He had decided he hadn't had a real bedroom since, what, Asgard?  A year ago?  Yeah, that sounded right.

            In the past four days, several things had happened, or were continuing to happen.  The first thing, Loki knew nothing about.  Somewhere else, on or off the helicarrier (he didn't know for sure), his fate was being decided.  He just prayed that he wouldn't be sent back to Asgard.  That would be terrible.  He couldn't face Odin after his adult-tantrum and suicide attempt the previous year.

            The second thing that had happened was the spell on Loki broke.  He knew it.  He felt different.  His eyes burned a bright green in his reflection on the glass.  Thanos's curse on his had faded and he was no longer insane, fearless, and feeling as though he was trapped in his own body.  His mind was not controlled by another anymore, and he had sweet relief from that particular torture.

            The third thing that had happened was that, as Thanos's control on him slipped away after being isolated from the Titan, everything else had flooded back in.  His own obstructed thoughts, opinions, and emotions.  He was no longer fighting for the top spot in his head; it was all there, loud and clear.  However, this meant only one thing.

            Loki wanted to die.  Then and there.  He had tried.  He couldn't do it here; there was nothing to use, nowhere to go, and his magic wouldn't work right.  This meant that he sat in his prison, trapped in his own personal hell.  And on top of that-

            "Loki."  The young god looked up.  A middle-aged agent stood at the door into his cell.  "We need to talk to you, along with Thor and the others.  I suggest you come quietly."  Loki had no plans of doing otherwise; he was too weak to try anyways.  He never ate what they brought him.

            Loki cooperated quietly as his hands were handcuffed behind his back.  He felt numb and out of it, like he wasn't quite registering everything that was going on.  He was their puppet, and he did what they wanted without thinking.

            He was led out of his cell for the first time in more than four days and the older agent led the way.  Loki had seen him before; he just couldn't remember his name...

            "Coulson," Nick Fury said as they entered a meeting room.  "Has he... behaved for you?"

            "Oh yes, Sir," Coulson replied.  That's it, that's his name, Loki thought.  "He was fine, never tried anything."

            "Good," Fury replied.

            Several other people quickly joined them, and everyone took a seat at the table.  Loki sat uncomfortably with his hands still behind him, meaning he couldn't easily lean back in his chair.  Right now, that was all he wanted.  He was exhausted, and for the first time in days, he was actually hungry.