Warnings: burns

Loki's had a nice night.

Pierce must have felt bad about leaving him in the snow for so long, because he wrapped him up in a blanket and gave him a nice, warm bowl of porridge before sending him back to the cage.

It's disappointing when the blanket lifts in the morning and the light shines into his cage. It means the night is over. His rest period has ended. It's time for another day.

On Pierce's urging, he crawls out of the cage, and he plops himself down on the floor, hugging his blanket tight. He's not even cold anymore; he just likes his new cocoon.

"How are you doing?" Pierce asks. He crouches down in front of him, pressing the back of his hand to Loki's forehead. "You feel warmer."

"May I keep the blanket?" Loki asks. He's almost hesitant to do it, but then, what's the worst that happens? Pierce says no? Then he's no worse than where he'd be without asking.

Pierce cracks a smile. "We'll see."

Loki smiles, too. That's promising. Maybe he won't lose his blanket. That would be nice.

"Alright, stand up," Pierce says, and Loki does just that. "Yesterday was remarkable. That kind of cold would have killed a human in a fraction of the time, and somehow, you're completely fine."

Loki feels a swell of pride at that. He passed the test. He did better than they thought – better than they'd even dared hope for, it seems. He hopes the same can be said for whatever test is in store for him today.

"Today, we're going to test your heat tolerance," Pierce tells him. "See if you can withstand the whole spectrum of dangerous weather."

Loki swallows hard.

That sounds... terrifying.

Pierce looks over his shoulder. "Rumlow!"

It takes a few seconds, but Rumlow enters the room, a duffel bag hung over his shoulder. Loki watches him warily as he approaches. If he didn't like this before, he really doesn't like this now. Everything is worse when Rumlow's involved. Everything.

Pierce takes his blanket and has him sit on top of the cage while he and Rumlow prepare. With their backs to him, he can't make out what they're doing, and he doesn't know whether that's a blessing or a curse. They're going to test his heat tolerance. He doesn't do heat. He's not a Heat Giant; he's a Frost Giant. There's a reason he could tolerate the cold, and it won't transfer over.

... Maybe he should tell them that.

Maybe he can save his own ass.

"Sir?" Loki says hesitantly.

"Give me a minute," Pierce says. "We just have to figure out..." He trails off, his attention focused elsewhere.

Loki clasps his hands in his lap. He doesn't want to give him a minute. He wants to tell him now, before they get too far into this to turn back. But Natasha told him to listen to them and Pierce told him to wait, so he's going to wait.

He twiddles his thumbs, eyes dancing around the room. He needs something to do that's not panic. But this place is so mundane. There's nothing happening. There's nothing to look at. There's nothing to keep his mind of off–

Squirrel.

There's a squirrel outside.

The poor little guy must be cold. Why is he outside in this weather? It was just snowing yesterday! There has to be at least a foot and a half of snow on the ground. How does the little guy stand that? Even Loki could hardly do it – and, sure, maybe he doesn't have fur to keep him warm, but how much does that help him in this kind of weather?

He wishes he could bring the squirrel inside. He probably could. He could use his magic. It's not as strong as it once was, but opening a door? Levitating a little squirrel? He could do that.

But what if the squirrel has a family? What if he has kids? Kids who are waiting for him to come back. Kids who are counting on him to keep them safe. Kids who love him.

... It must be nice, having a father they can count on.

Is the squirrel open to adopting? Loki could use that kind of love and support in his life.

"There we go," Pierce says, and when he turns around, there's some sort of... flaming... stick... in his hand.

Loki's eyes go wide.

Where's the squirrel when you need one?

"Sir, please," he says quickly, desperately. "I do not handle heat well. It will burn me, much the same way it would burn you. My kind burns. That's all you'll see. It burns."

"You said your kind gets frostbite, too," Pierce reminds him, "and you didn't freeze."

"This is different," Loki insists. "Please. You don't have to do this. I can tell you the outcome you'll see. I will save you the time and effort of running your tests. I will go back to the cage hungry if I must, but please, don't–"

"Stop."

Loki clamps his mouth shut.

Pierce grins. "I love how easy that is," he says. "Barnes wasn't always that easy to shut up."

Usually, his mind begins to cycle through the same questions every time he hears that name. Who is Barnes? What did they do to him, and why? Is he with them? Is he still alive?

This time, he hardly even registers it. His eyes are glued to the flame, and as Pierce brings it closer to him, Loki finds himself leaning away. It won't save him much – a few seconds, maybe, if that – but he'll take whatever he can get. It's a few more seconds of peace. It's a few more seconds for Pierce to change his mind.

He can feel his breathing grow faster, heavier. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to do this. He wants to run away. He wants to run out into the snow and never look back.

Pierce rolls his eyes. "The more you freak you, the worse it's going to be."

Loki's not sure there's any possible way to make it worse. Freaking out certainly won't make a difference.

He can already feel the heat against his arm, and he whimpers softly. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He just wants to go back to the cage.

"It's not even touching you," Pierce says, exasperated.

Yes, it is.

He squeezes his eyes shut, turning his head away from the flame. He can't watch. He really, really can't watch this.

And then the flames are on his skin.

And he screams.

"Stop!" he cries, grabbing his arm as he leans away from the flame. "Stop it! Please! Stop!"

Rumlow huffs. "He really doesn't like fire, huh?"

Pierce sighs. "Loki, sit up."

Reluctantly, Loki sits up straight, and his grip on his arm tightens. The touch of his hand only makes it burn worse, but he can't let go. He can't let the air at it. He can't let Pierce at it.

"Let me see."

Loki slowly lowers his hand, but he doesn't dare open his eyes. He can't look. He can still feel the heat against his skin, the searing pain that won't go away. The flames are gone, but the pain only grows.

"I told you!" Loki chokes out a sob. "I told you what would happen!" He told them it would burn. He's not built for fire the way he is for snow. He burns.

Pierce's fingers brush over the burn, and Loki cries out in pain. He wants this to stop. He wants this to stop. He'll do whatever they ask. He just wants it to stop.

"You were right," Pierce admits. "That's not pretty." He takes a few steps back, and only then does Loki let himself open his eyes.

He looks down at his arm, and he grimaces at the sight before him. It's as though the skin has been burned right off. It's red and raw and blistered, and the skin is peeling up around it, as though he could rip it all off in one swoop. He's almost glad the pain brings tears to his eyes. It's harder to see what they've done to him when his vision is so blurred.

"Hmm," Pierce hums thoughtfully. "I guess the flare stick's probably hotter than the snow is cold."

No shit.

He'd say it aloud if he wasn't afraid they'd do this again in the name of "science." He doesn't want to go through this again. He wants to go back in the cage. He's safe in the cage. Nobody tries to touch him. Nobody tries to burn him. They leave him alone when he's in the cage. He needs that right now. He needs them to leave him alone.

"I have a better idea," Pierce says.

Loki just buries his head in his hands and sobs.

He doesn't want to see this better idea. He just wants to rest. Why can't he just rest?

~~~

It's a pool.

He wasn't expecting that.

It's a big, metal pool.

The water's cold, but that doesn't bother him. He sinks down, letting it cool his aching arm. For the briefest moment, the water stings, but then it begins to soothe his pain. This is what he wanted. This is exactly what he wanted.

Rumlow is sent out of the room to operate some sort of controls. How he's going to control this pool, Loki doesn't know, but he doesn't particularly care, either. He doesn't care what Rumlow is up to down the hall. He doesn't care what Pierce is up to as he watches him like a hawk. He doesn't care. He just wants to stay in here and never, ever leave.

There's a thermometer in the water, a screen facing Pierce to show him the temperature, but when Loki tries to take a look, Pierce tells him he can't. It's annoying, he'll admit, but it's far from the worst thing to happen to him today.

Nothing happens for the first few minutes. He keeps expecting something to change, but it doesn't.

"Am I supposed to do something?" Loki asks him. This doesn't feel like a very testing sort of test.

"Just stay right where you are," Pierce says. "You're doing great."

Loki furrows his brows, but if this is what Pierce wants from him, he'll do it. It's certainly better than the fire. It's better than the snow, even. The snow never stopped being cold, but the water, he's gotten used to. It doesn't feel cold anymore. It's nice and toasty, not too hot and not too cold.

He stretches his legs out in front of him, a slight smile on his face. He's enjoying himself immensely.

He cups the water in his hands and pours it over his head. It agitates his wound when he moves his arm, but he'll have to get used to that sooner or later. They're not going to allow him time to heal, after all. They never do.

It's like a test and a treat all at once, he notices. He's staying nice and toasty, and he's staying clean. He hasn't had a shower since the last winter. He'll gladly take this bath without complaints.

But the longer it goes on for, the warmer it feels. It's not just his body getting used to the cold, he realizes: they're actually warming the water with him in it. His eyes go wide, and he looks at Pierce in terror.

What are you doing to me?

"Relax," Pierce says. "You're doing good."

Loki tries to listen.

He tries to relax.

He takes a deep breath in, and then breathes out. A deep breath in, and then out. A breath in, and out. In, and out. In. Out. In. Out. In out in out in out in out in out in out in out in holy shit, he's going to die.

"Loki." Pierce's voice is firm, grounding, but it does nothing to calm him down.

He's going to die.

They put him in this metal pot and they're going to boil him like a lobster and he is going to die.

And there is nothing he can do about it.

Pierce stands up, and then he falls to the side and then there are two of him and...

What is happening?

Loki squeezes his eyes shut. "Stop," he chokes out. "Stop it. Please. Stop it. I can't—"

"Loki." There's a hand on his shoulder, and he jerks away. "Loki, take a breath."

He takes a breath. He takes a lot of breaths. He takes so, so many breaths, one after another after another. He can't stop taking breaths, even for a moment. He feels like his head is going to float away with all the oxygen he's filling it with.

"Loki, calm down!"

"I can't," Loki says breathlessly. "I can't, I can't, I can't." He has to. Pierce gave him an order, and he has to follow it. But he can't.

"Loki!" Pierce claps in front of his face, and though Loki flinches, he doesn't open his eyes. "Loki, you're fine. Nothing's happened yet. It's only..." There's a pause. "It's only 98 degrees. You're fine."

"I can't do this," Loki sobs. "Please. Don't make me do this."

"Loki!" Pierce's voice gets louder, more frustrated.

Loki's voice only grows more desperate. "Let me out," he pleads. "I'll do anything you want. You can cut me open, tear me apart, but please, just let me out!"

"Stop complaining," Pierce snaps. "Look at me."

Loki opens his eyes, forcing himself to meet his gaze. He can't complain. He's not going to complain. The water's getting really warm now, but he's not going to complain. He's just going to breathe, and breathe, and breathe, and breathe and breathe and breathe and breathe—"

Pierce snaps his fingers in front of his face. "Loki, focus. Look at me. Calm down."

Calm down.

He keeps saying that. Calm down. Loki's supposed to calm down. But he can't do that. He can't calm down. He's trying and he's trying, but he can't calm down.

But he can't say that, either, because he can't complain. He can't tell Pierce that he can't follow his orders. He can't do anything. He's stuck.

He wipes the tears from his eyes, and the water from the pot drips down his face. He just wants to go back to the cage. Why can't he go back to the cage?

"Look at me," Pierce says again. "You're fine. You're going to be fine. It's like a hot tub; that's all."

Loki's never been in a hot tub this warm. Or is it the water that's warm? Is it because he's sobbing? Because he's hyperventilating? He's burning from the inside out, not the other way around.

He puts his hand back in the water, then pulls it out again.

It's definitely the water.

He bangs his forehead against the side of the pot. He wants to go back to his cage. He misses his cage. His cage is safe. He just wants to feel safe.

"Look at me," Pierce says again. "Stop doing that. You can't do that every time you don't get what you want."

Loki forces himself to meet Pierce's gaze. He hates this. He hates this so much. The water is starting to burn — to really, really burn. He wants to say something. He's reached his limit; they've found their test result. It's time to put an end to this.

But he can't tell him that.

Because that would be complaining.

And Pierce told him not to complain.

He's backed himself into a box. He can't save himself. However warm the water gets, he has to suffer through it, silent except for his panted breaths. Even those, he's been told to stop, but he only has so much control. How he can be expected to calm down when he's being boiled alive, he can't even fathom.

The water burns his skin now, and his breathing only grows faster, his sobs growing louder. He wants to get out. He needs to get out. He can't do this.

"You're making this worse than it has to be," Pierce tells him. "Just calm down. I'll take you out when it gets too hot."

It's too hot.

It is so very hot.

He wants to scream it until he's blue in the face, but he can't. Natasha told him to listen, and Pierce told him to stop complaining, so he can't say a word.

"Heimdall." He's not sure he even gets the name out. "Heimdall, please." It's been years since Asgard abandoned him. He knows they're not coming for him. Nobody is coming for him. But right now, all he can do is hope that Heimdall changes his mind, and soon. He doesn't know how much longer he can take this.

"We've been over this, Loki," Pierce says irritably. "Heimdall doesn't care about you. He's not coming. This is your life now. Nobody is going to save you."

All Loki can do is sob.

He just wants to see Heimdall. He just wants to see somebody. He wants somebody to get him out of here. He wants somebody to hold him and tell him he'll be alright and to stay with him until they know that he is.

The water is too hot. He's going to burn. He's survived the worst kinds of torture, only to die now in a pot of water. The universe is a cruel place.

Loki must move the wrong way, because the water brushes against the burn on his arm, and he cries out in pain. He doesn't understand why it hurts so much. The skin is already burnt. How could he possibly burn it more? How could the water do any worse than the flames already did?

He pulls his arm out of the water, but the burning doesn't stop. He tries to silence himself, to stop complaining just as Pierce ordered, but he can't. He screams, head falling back helplessly. He hates this. He hates this.

"Too hot?" Pierce asks.

It hurts too much to try to form words, to form thoughts, so he just nods, his head bobbing up and down vigorously. It's too hot. It's too hot.

"Alright, we're done." Pierce hits a button on the side, and the water begins to drain.

Loki clutches his head, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. He needs to get out of here. He needs to. He can't do this. He needs to get out.

"Holy..." Pierce stands up and takes a step toward him, a hand outstretched, but it hovers cautiously over his chest like he doesn't dare touch it.

Loki wipes his eyes and looks down, following his gaze, and he has to cover his mouth to stifle his panic. His skin is red, raw, burnt well beyond its limits — though not nearly as badly as his arm, which is burnt straight through.

But it's not just red: it's jagged, with bumps and ridges rising from his sternum in purposeful patterns. He's never seen them before — not on himself, at least — but he recognizes them immediately.

It's the mark of a Frost Giant.

Whether it's hurting him or shielding him from the horrors, he can't tell, but it doesn't matter; it's atrocious either way and he has to look away.

"What is this?" Pierce asks quietly, brushing his hands over his skin.

Loki doesn't want to tell him. He doesn't want to admit it aloud. But Natasha told him to listen, and Pierce asked him a question, so—

"This is fascinating," Pierce mutters. "This..." He glanced toward the doorway. "Rumlow, get my phone. I want to take a picture."

Maybe he doesn't have to answer, then. Maybe Pierce doesn't expect him to. Maybe he doesn't have to admit that he's a Frost Giant, a monster not only because of his actions but because it's in his blood.

But he can't pretend he's not, either. Now Pierce has seen it. Soon, Rumlow will, too. And they're going to take a picture and they're going to show everybody and soon the whole of the Nine Realms will know what a monster he is.

He's going to be sick.

The back of Pierce's hand brushes over him once more. "You really weren't kidding when you said the water was killing you, huh?"

Loki just shakes his head. The water was killing him. He knew it. The water was killing him. He was dying. Every second he spent in that water was a second closer to death.

He really thinks he's going to be sick.

"Come out here," Pierce says.

Loki pries his hands away from his face and grabs onto the side of the pot. It's not all that hot. He's certainly surprised about that. He just has to step over it and...

Where is over it?

The world is spinning. It's not supposed to be... doing... that...

He wants to take a few minutes to orient himself. He's not breathing quite so hard anymore. Maybe the world will stand still and he can make some sense of it.

But Natasha told him to listen, and Pierce told him to get out, so, carefully, he lifts his leg over the side—

And he falls.

And then the world goes dark.