My War Is Over (Original Unfinished Version)

Chapter Nine

Tony stays true to his promise. Exiting the door to the infirmary he instructs JARVIS not to let anyone else inside save Bruce or himself, unless, of course, they had permission. He plops himself down in a chair outside the door, wishing for coffee and an excuse to run away from everything. He sits staring into space for all of 26 full seconds before he whips out his Starkpad, beginning to make some security modifications to the Tower and send in requests to fix the hole in his floor as well as the broken window. JARVIS alerts him that the other Avengers save for  Bruce are making their way up to the infirmary by the elevator which he groans at, dreading having to face their questions and judgment.

"Has Fury left yet?"

"Yes, Sir. Director Fury departed exactly 8 minutes ago." 

"Cool, at least that's not proving to be a problem yet." 

He wants a nap.

As promised, the elevator doors from down the hallway chime, and out stride Natasha, face impassive as ever, followed by a red-faced Clint and solemn-looking Thor and Steve. Natasha stops next to Tony's chair and takes a seat in front of him, leaning down so that her elbows touch her knees and propping her head up with her hands. Steve and Tony remain standing to the side awkwardly until they also take their seats, Clint apparently electing to pace back and forth. Tony doesn't look up, instead of focusing on the Starkpad in his hands, frowning: he'd forgotten to fill the only coffee pot on this floor. Crap.

Steve is the first to speak, clearing his throat before he asks in a hushed voice, "How is he?" Tony sighs dramatically, finally looking up and shutting down the Starkpad,

"Fucked," was all he offers in response, not in any mood to be compliant. Steve huffs, "Seriously Tony, how is he?"

"I dunno," Tony shrugs, "he doesn't believe anything I'm telling him. Keeps saying that nothing is real."

"Let me talk to him," Natasha all but orders. Tony shoots her a look, 

"Are you going to fuck with his head, 'cause I'm telling you that's the last thing he needs," Clint scoffs. Natasha says nothing, only stares at Tony, expression firm. Tony sighs, this time for real, and stood up, walking to the door.

"Everyone else, get out, go somewhere, get shitfaced, I don't care just don't be here," Tony snaps, surveying the room. Clint opens his mouth to argue, but Steve simply guides his shoulder towards the exit firmly, pushing Thor along too. I'm going to have to like...create some kind of alcohol you can actually get drunk off for this, Cap. 

"We'll come back later," he assures. Tony rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," before opening the door for Natasha.

-oOo-

When Natasha walks into the infirmary, shutting the door behind her despite Tony's glare following her every move, she's met with a very different Loki than she'd seen in battle. He's laying in a hospital bed wearing a white medical gown and covered by a thin white blanket, though the edges are stained slightly with blood. His hair isn't as slicked back as it had been when she'd last seen him. Although it desperately needs to be washed it frames his face quite nicely. There are dark, shaded circles underneath his eyes, which are haunted, and stared back at her with an aura of fear and suspicion.

"Hello, Loki," Natasha greets him, glancing over the screens in the corner of the room to get a further grasp on his injuries. He offers her no response. Tony had sarcastically suggested that she wrap the wounds on his wrists, as Bruce had left them to "show him something", and while Natasha knew he hadn't been serious, she decides to do so. She pulls the wheeled medical tray from beside Loki's bed closer to her, settling down in a chair beside him. Loki's eyes snapped to the tray, wide and terrified.