"Hello, Loki."

It's been months – years? – since he's heard that voice, but he would recognize it anywhere. No amount of time could possibly bring him to forget Heimdall. This is his friend, his guardian, and now, he's never been more relieved – or surprised – to see him.

Loki looks around, and he's greeted with the all-too-familiar sight of Heimdall's outpost in Himinbjorg. Its golden structure is a sharp contrast from the dull grays and whites he's become accustomed to. He never thought he'd see this again. He never thought he'd see him again.

When he meets Heimdall's gaze, he's hit with a wave of emotions.

Relief.

Fear.

Anger.

They left him for so long.

Asgard left him.

They abandoned him in this world of pain, left him to suffer through this alone.

And now, after all this time, they've come for him? As though nothing's changed? As though Loki hasn't been torn apart and put back together again hundreds of times over while they sat up there in Asgard and twiddled their thumbs?

He doesn't know which emotion is the most fair. He doesn't know which he should act on. At this point, he feels like he doesn't know anything. So, all he says is,

"Why now?"

"Loki..." Heimdall smiles sadly. "We never stopped looking for you."

Loki bites his lower lip. They didn't?

"Your parents were devastated when we lost you. They've torn this world apart trying to find you."

Loki can feel his eyes begin to sting. They have?

"They've thought of nothing else since you disappeared," Heimdall says. "It was hard to lose Thor. They couldn't stand to lose you, too."

The sound of Thor's name sends a pang of grief, of guilt through him, but the fact that Odin and Frigga have been looking for him... They never abandoned him. They never forgot him. They never stopped loving him.

His family loves him.

He didn't know he needed to hear that until he did.

"Do they know where I am?" Loki asks. He hopes they do, because he hasn't the slightest idea. He can't help them. He can't guide them to him.

"They do," Heimdall assures him. "They're coming for you now. They're going to bring you home.

Loki's eyes snap open.

They're coming for him.

They're going to bring him home.

"Mother!" He bangs his fist against the cage. "Mother! Father!" He slams his fists against the bars, over and over and over. "In here!"

He can't see.

This stupid blanket over the cage.

He needs to see.

He summons all the magic he can muster and flings the blanket off the cage. He can see the whole room now, and the lights nearly blind him after so long in the dark. But he doesn't care. He just looks to the window.

They're coming for him.

They're going to bring him home.

"Mother!" His throat hurts from screaming the name so loudly. He doesn't care. "Father! Heimdall!" He's right here! He's waiting for them! Don't they know that he's waiting for them?

He slams his hands against the cage, over and over and over. The racket hurts his head, but he doesn't care. The assault on the bars hurts his palms, but he doesn't care. He just needs them to hear him.

"Mother!" It's the loudest he's screamed yet, maybe the loudest ever, and it launches him into a coughing fit. He doubles over in the cage, head hanging low as his body heaves out cough after cough.

Even still, he doesn't stop. "Mother." It's a hoarse whisper now, barely escaping his lips between coughs. "Mother, I'm—"

I'm here.

Come find me.

Come tell me that everything is going to be okay.

Please.

One hand supports his body as it's racked with coughs, but the other goes back to hitting the cage. It's quieter now, much quieter, but it's something. He has to do something.

"Hey!" It's Rumlow's voice that greets him, none too happy to see him, though he never is.

"Mother." Loki's hand falls back to the bottom of the cage, but he can't give up now. He smacks his head against the bars, over and over and over. Anything to make a sound. Anything to tell them where to look.

They're coming for him.

There's a kick to the side of the cage and Loki yelps, shrinking in on himself.

"Shut up!" Rumlow snaps.

Loki takes a deep breath.

He's not going to cough.

He's not going to cough.

Coughing makes noise.and Rumlow told him to shut up, so he's not going to cough.

... He has to cough.

He rests his head against his forearms and coughs once, just to clear his throat. That one cough turns in two, turns into three and four until he's in the midst of a coughing fit once more.

Mother.

He just wants his mother.

Rumlow just shakes his head. "What the hell is wrong with this thing?"

Loki doesn't think all too much of it. He knows that Rumlow doesn't like him. He never has, and he likely never will. It's never bothered him before, and it doesn't bother him now.

But then he puts the blanket back over the cage, and that becomes a problem.

Loki's magic throws the blanket aside, and he doesn't even look where it lands, instead lifting his head to look out the window once more.

They're coming for him.

They're coming to rescue him.

He just has to be patient.

Rumlow lets out a groan. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demands, slamming his foot against the cage once more.

Loki ducks his head, covering it with his arms, and squeezes his eyes shut helplessly. He wants to fade away, to curl up into himself so tightly that he just disappears. But he can't. Because Natasha told him to listen to them, and Rumlow asked a question, so he has to answer it.

"My parents," he squeaks. His parents are coming. He's going to see his parents.

"Your parents..." He slams his foot into the side of the cage, and Loki curls up more, trying to make himself even smaller. "Don't care about you." Another kick. "So stop whining." Another kick. "And shut your fucking mouth."

Loki forces the smallest of nods. He'll stop whining. He'll shut his mouth. He just wants him to stop kicking his cage.

And then it's Pierce's voice. "What the hell is going on?"

"He won't shut up," Rumlow tells him, and the anger in his voice only terrifies Loki more. Another kick is coming; he's sure of it. "He was banging on his cage, screaming his ass off 'bout his parents."

"What?" Pierce doesn't sound angry; not like Rumlow was. He just sounds... surprised. Confused.

It's quiet for a few moments, and Loki can feel the rumble in the ground with every step Pierce takes. He tries to make himself smaller, but he's as small as he can get. This will have to do.

The cage door opens.

"Go ahead," Pierce says gently. "You can get out."

Loki opens one eye, looking at him warily, but he really does seem to mean it. So, carefully, cautiously, he crawls his way out of the cage.

He doesn't go far; he sits down right outside it, slowly stretching his legs out in front of him. One thing that's never gotten easier in all the time he's been here is those first couple of minutes out of the cage. There are times when he has to get right up, where Pierce has plans for him and he has to stand up and they start right away. But if he has the chance, if all Pierce wants is for him to leave the cage, then he'll take a moment to let his knees unfold.

"You have to be careful with him," Pierce says, his voice hushed, almost a whisper. "He's not Barnes. You can break him, and if you break him, we can't use him."

It's strange; Loki would have said that he broke a long, long time ago.

Pierce crouches down in front of him. "You're looking for your parents?"

Loki swallows hard and nods. He wishes Rumlow hadn't said anything. Pierce is going to think he's ungrateful. Pierce has done so much for him, and now he's calling out for his parents like an ungrateful brat.

"How come?" Pierce asks.

"They're coming," Loki says quietly.

"What?"

"They're coming," he says again. "He said they're coming."

All the color drains from Pierce's face. "Your parents are coming?"

Loki nods. "He said they're coming," he says. "They found me and they're coming."

Pierce looks up at Rumlow, eyes alit with anger. "See, this is why you have to talk to him instead of just beating him up," he snaps, pushing himself back to his feet. "If someone's looking for him, we have to get rid of him."

"He's full of shit," Rumlow says. "There's no one coming for him."

"You wanna risk your life on that?" Pierce asks.

Loki looks out the window. His parents are coming for him. Any minute now...

Pierce holds a hand down toward him. "Come on, stand up."

Pierce never helps him to his feet. This is strange. Still, he won't complain about a good thing, and he lets Pierce help him up.

"Where are your parents now?" Pierce asks.

"They're coming," Lokki says. "He said they're coming."

"I'm telling you," Rumlow says, "he's full of shit. He's delusional."

"And what if he's not?" Pierce snaps. He puts a hand on Loki's back and gently but pointedly pushes him toward the window. "Come on. We're going outside."

Loki lets Pierce lead him to the window, and he take him all the way to the glass door on the end. Loki doesn't think too much of it until Pierce opens it up and the fresh air hits his face.

Fresh air.

Fresh, outdoor air.

He hasn't felt the fresh air in... months? Years? Too long to count. He hadn't realized it was so different from the air inside, but it is. It's... fresh. The fresh air is so much more fresh. He doesn't know how else to put it.

Pierce leads him outside, and the feeling of the grass under Loki's feet is almost euphoric. He could just lie down right here, sprawl out on the grass for the rest of time.

Pierce drags him to the middle of the field between the building and the trees. "You're gonna stay right here," he says. "And if your parents come to take you away, tell them that you want to stay here – and, whatever you do, do not tell them about us."

"Yes, sir," Loki says obediently.

Pierce pats him on the back, and then he's gone, back in the building and far out of sight.

Loki looks around, taking in the view. He'd thought it looked beautiful from inside, but that pales in comparison to how it looks from the outside, how it feels from the outside. Today really is a good day. He got to talk to Heimdall; he got to go outside; pretty soon, he'll get to see his parents. This is wonderful. It's truly wonderful.

Loki looks up to the sky. "Heimdall!" he calls out. "Heimdall, I'm ready! You can send them!"

He waits.

And waits.

And waits and waits and waits some more.

But there's no sign of the Bifrost.

But then, Heimdall never said they would take the Bifrost. They've been on Midgard all along, he'd said. They're probably coming by foot. That's fine, too. It might just take a little longer.

So he sits down on the ground, letting his hands grip the grass, enjoying the prickling feeling against his skin. This is wonderful. This is so, so wonderful.

He hums quietly to himself while he waits. His parents are coming. His parents are coming! He's going to see his parents again. He's going to get to hug them again, to kiss them, to tell them he loves them. He can't wait.

Any minute now.

Any minute...

He hates to complain about a good thing, but it would have been nice if Heimdall hadn't told him until they were closer. The suspense is going to kill him. He doesn't want to wait. He wants to jump up and hug them and never let go. He can't do that if he's just sitting here and waiting.

But that's alright.

They'll be here soon, and it will all be worth it.

What is he going to say when he sees them? He's sure the first thing he does will be give them a hug, but what will he say? Is "I love you" too nondescript? Too dismissive of the time they've spent apart? What of "I missed you"? Will he be able to get those words out without sobbing? Is that going to stop him?

Or maybe he should start with an apology. It was his own stupidity that got their son, his brother killed. He knows that, and by now, they must know it, too. He needs to apologize for that. He needs to apologize for leading this ridiculous war on this planet. He needs to apologize for disappearing when Asgard was so fragile. It wasn't his fault, but he did, and he needs to apologize.

Or maybe he won't say that. Maybe he won't say any of this. Maybe he'll just hug them and hug them and hug them some more. That's what he needs right now is a hug. He's never needed a hug more than he does now. And he's finally going to get it.

He just has to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Until they show up.

... Whenever that will be.

The sun's moved quite a ways across the sky already. How long has he been waiting? A long time, he feels. Longer than he'd expected. Much, much longer than he'd expected.

But they're coming.

He knows they are.

Heimdall promised him they'd come, so they're coming.

"Loki?" It's Pierce's voice, and Loki feels himself deflate. "Nobody's come." It's both a question and a statement. He knows, then. He knows that nobody's come for him.

Loki shakes his head solemnly. "I don't know where they are."

Pierce comes out to join him, sitting in the grass beside him. Loki looks over at him, and he wonders if his heartbreak is as clear to him as it feels. His parents were supposed to be here by now. Where are they?

Pierce puts a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure your parents are coming?"

"He'd said..." He'd said they were coming. But they haven't, so maybe he was wrong. Maybe they're not.

"Who said that?" Pierce asks.

"Heimdall," he says. "He spoke to me. He told me they were coming. He told me that they found me."

"Well, if they haven't come yet, I don't think they're going to."

Loki lowers his gaze to his lap. He knows that. Deep down, he knows that. It doesn't make it any less painful to hear.

"Nobody's going to come for you," Pierce tells him. "Nobody will find you. Nobody's even trying."

Loki closes his eyes and swallows back a sob. He realized a long time ago that nobody was trying to find him. He accepted long ago that nobody was trying to find him. But for a moment there, he really thought...

Pierce sighs. "Let's go back inside," he says. "I'll let you rest today. We can go back to testing tomorrow."

Loki forces himself to nod, but he doesn't really care. He feels numb. He doesn't care what happens to him now. They could cut him open again and put his organs on a shelf and he wouldn't care. He's just... numb.

Pierce just looks at him for a few moments, until finally, he says, "It's been a few months since you've taken a shower, hasn't it?"

Loki shrugs minutely. How would he know? Time has no meaning anymore – nor does water, or cleanliness, or relief from the neverending tortures his life holds.

Pierce stands up and offers him a hand. "Come on; let's go get you cleaned up."

All Loki wants to do is sit here until he dies. The best thing Pierce could do is leave him here; the next best, letting him go back to the cage. But Natasha told him to listen, and Pierce wants him to take a shower, so, reluctantly, he takes Pierce's hand and stands up.

At first, it's quiet as they walk. Loki does his best to take in his surroundings – he's only left his room a handful of times since he arrived, and he'd like to have some idea of where he is – but he knows he'll just forget as soon as he stops trying to remember. His memory's gotten worse, he thinks, since he's been here. Maybe it's because he hasn't had to remember much. He doesn't have to use his brain much at all. Why would he, when his entire life is decided for him?

He's enjoying the silence. He'd like it to continue. Naturally, that means it doesn't.

"Are you really that upset that your parents didn't show up?" Pierce asks him.

Loki looks over at him, and though he tries, he's not sure he succeeds in hiding his surprise at the question. Of course he's upset. They're his family. He loves them, more dearly than he anybody else in the Nine Realms. He'd be devastated if he didn't feel so numb.

"I told you you couldn't go with them," Pierce reminds him. "Isn't it better that you don't have to tell them that you want to stay?"

Loki shakes his head solemnly. "I just..." He lets out a long breath. "I wanted to see them again. I never had the chance to say 'goodbye.'" That's what he wanted, really. The more he thinks of it, the more sure he is. He wanted to say 'goodbye.' He wanted to give them a hug, and he wanted to say 'goodbye.' That's all he wanted.

And he'll never get to do it.

When Pierce looks at him, he looks... sympathetic. He's sympathetic, but he's thoughtful. Perhaps more of the latter, really. He's thinking. Nothing good comes from Pierce thinking. But he was promised a day to rest, and he repeats that to himself silently. He's okay. He's going to rest today. Whatever happens tomorrow is a problem he can face then, but today, he gets to rest.

Finally, Pierce asks, "How do you feel about this?"

Loki furrows his brows. "I'm sorry?"

"How do you feel about this arrangement?" Pierce asks. "All of it."

Loki sighs. How does he feel about it? He feels...

"I don't feel anything."

He doesn't know how else to put it. Sometimes there are feelings of fear; frequently, feelings of pain. There are feelings of relief, feelings of contentment. But, for the most part, he feels nothing. Right now especially, he feels nothing.

Pierce takes a moment to think about that. "I asked you this a couple years ago, and you said you wanted to die," he reminds him. "Is that still how you feel?"

Loki just shrugs. "I don't know," he admits. He doesn't think about it. He can remember the times when he did, when he would beg for the release of death, but those days are over. These days, he doesn't beg to die. He just... wouldn't complain if he did.

That gets a slight smile out of Pierce. "Then things must be getting better," he remarks. "If it's not a 'yes,' then it's better."

It doesn't feel better, but then, maybe he misremembers how it felt those first few days, first few weeks. Everything was new to him. He still had all of that fear, all that resistance that's since been washed away. Maybe it is better now than it used to be.

He doesn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed.

Pierce opens a door, and inside is a toilet, a sink, a mirror, and a shower. It looks vaguely familiar. It might be where he took his last shower. Showers? He's had two showers, he thinks – three, maybe? He's had a few; he remembers now. He's done this a few times, though not for a long while.

"You go get yourself cleaned up," Pierce says. "I'll be back; I'm going to get something."

~~~

Loki has essentially taken four showers in one.

He's shampooed four times; he's washed his body four times; he's certainly been in the water as long as one would for four showers. But he doesn't want to get out. He didn't really want to get in, but he really doesn't want to get out. It's nice in here. It's comfortable. He feels clean. He wants to continue to feel clean. The sooner he leaves, the sooner he'll be dirty once more.

He pours some more shampoo in his palm, rubs his hands together, and begins to massage it into his scalp. His hair is much longer than it ever was in Asgard, and much more tangled, too. It makes washing it feel strange, but that won't stop him from doing it for a fifth time.

"You're still in there?"

Loki peeks an eye open just long enough to see Pierce in the doorway with some piece of fabric in his hands, then closes it again to keep the soap out of it. "Do I need to get out?" He's never been allowed a shower this long, but then, there's usually someone there to watch, to urge him to hurry, to drag him out. This time felt different. He made it different.

"Yeah, finish washing your hair and get out," Pierce says.

At least he gets to finish his hair.

He takes his time with it, making sure to get each and every bit of sweat, grease, and blood from his scalp, making sure that there's no soap left to dry between the hairs, making sure he's clean. When he's done, he turns the shower off and steps out.

Pierce hands him a towel, and Loki begins to dry himself off, starting with the hair and working his way down. Now that Pierce is here, he doesn't know if he can take his time anymore, so he works much faster than he did in the shower. He hardly even dries his hair; just enough to stop it from dripping. When the rest of his body is dry, then he tries to dry his hair.

"Your pants have been falling down for months," Pierce says, "even with the pin."

Loki lowers his gaze to his pants, still bunched up on the floor in front of him. He can just barely see the shining of the metal pin Pierce had stuck through the fabric to make the waistband smaller, tighter, less likely to fall. It helped for a while, but he's gotten too small for even that to help him.

"I was thinking we could try this." Pierce unfolds the fabric in his hands to show him. "It's a hospital gown. It's adjustable; it ties in the back, so it's not going to fall off."

Loki looks it over. It's... interesting. He's not fully sure he understands it. But if it's going to stop falling down, he appreciates it already. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it," Pierce says. "Now, get dried up and let's get this on you – and brush your hair. It looks like a rat's nest."

"Yes, sir," Loki says. He wasn't sure he'd have time for that. This is a nice surprise. Pierce must be in a very good mood, then. He's surprised, but he certainly won't complain.

Loki finishes drying himself off, and he tosses the towel on top of the toilet, then makes his way to the sink, where he knows the hairbrush is waiting for him. He starts brushing from the ends, trying to work his way up to the roots. He tries to be as gentle as he can. He already lost so much hair in the shower. He doesn't want to lose too much more.

When he sees himself in the mirror, he stops.

That's not him.

The man looking back at him, that's not him.

Who is that?

He narrows his eyes, cocking his head to the side, and the man in the reflection does the same. It's almost as though it is him, but it's not. It can't be. The man in the mirror has dull, lifeless eyes. His face is as pale as can be. He has hollow cheekbones, dark bags under his eyes.

That's not him.

It can't be.

His gaze lowers further, down to the reflection of his abdominals. There used to be muscle there. He was never Thor, but he had some muscle. He doesn't anymore. He doesn't have any fat, either. His skin sinks in between each rib, accentuating his ribcage in a horrifying way. His stomach curves inwards, almost like he's hollow, like there's nothing within him. His bruises really stand out against his pale skin; the scars, not so much, but he can still see them. He can still see where they cut him open; tore him apart.

For a while, he just stares at his reflection.

What happened to him?

"Let's get you dressed," Pierce says, breaking him from his trance.

Loki pulls his gaze away from the mirror, and Pierce helps him put on his hospital gown, tying it in the back at the neck and the waist. It has a loose fit, and though he once would have attributed it to the design, now that he's seen himself, he can't help but wonder if it's just him.

"How does it feel?" Pierce asks.

"It feels fine, sir," Loki answers flatly.

"Alright." Pierce pats his back. "Let's get you back to your room, and I'll get you some porridge — nice and warm this time, just for you."

Loki forces a smile. "Thank you, sir." It will be nice to eat something warm for a change, but after what he just saw, what he looks like now...

Well, it's going to take a lot more than one bowl of porridge to fix him.