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Thor sleeps, and his dreams are sweet, though disjointed and blurred.
His dreams are not usually so lovely, so full of his friends and his brother when he was young and innocent and the cruelty and madness in his eyes was not so pronounced.
Thor knows that this is because there is no need to have nightmares.
He lives them when he is awake.
So Thor sleeps whenever he is able to, but they wake him.
Always.
+
Thor has never wished for death, but lately he finds himself craving it.
He wonders if he will go to Valhalla, though he will not perish in battle.
It will still be a violent death.
He would rather simply sleep for all eternity.
His dreams are so beautiful.
Thor has always appreciated beauty.
He has.
Perhaps.
Lately, his memory is giving him trouble.
He does not know how long he has been here.
He wonders if his comrades still search for him, his Shield Brothers and Sisters, or if they have turned their backs on him for bringing all of this pain to Midgard.
Thor fears that his mind is leaving him, fears that he is weak.
He has been tortured before, but never like this, never for this long. Never in these ways.
The healers on Asgard always said that madness runs in families.
And he and Loki have always been brothers in everything but blood.
+
Thor wishes for water, for food, but he is not given any.
Not until he stops fighting, they say.
He is not sure who they are.
They wear masks, queer masks that cover but half of their faces.
They are scientists, they take notes as his body heals, as they cut him open with a precision that he marvels at.
The pain is almost unbearable, but Thor does not sleep, and he does not scream.
He wishes to, but he will not, because he is strong.
Thor, Prince of Asgard.
Thor, Avenger.
Avenger, Avenger, Avenger.
Who will avenge him?
+
He does not deserve to be avenged, that is what he is told, when the scientists are not cutting into him, looking at his insides.
He is a fascinating specimen, he hears them tell each other.
They do not speak to him.
Thor suspects that to them, he is little more than a creature to be observed, to be played with.
But when he is tortured by those that do not speak to each other, that do not write on a chart, that is worse.
They tell him that they are doing this to avenge their realm. (That word, that word, that word, again and again and again.)
I protected your realm, Thor screams, full of righteous anger, when he is first brought to this place, when he is still fighting to leave, before he realizes that he cannot. That somehow he has been boxed in by these fortified walls (like a castle, like a palace, he has a palace of his own, he is Thor, and this is his kingdom).
They say that he would not have had to protect their realm had he not arrived and compelled Loki to follow, and thus sowed the seeds for Loki's revenge.
Had Thor never arrived, the human race could have gone on without knowing that alien life forms existed, and thus a terrible uproar from the people could have been prevented.
Had Thor never arrived, Loki would never have attacked.
Had Thor made sure that Loki was in captivity he could not escape from, Loki would never have escaped again.
They speak the truth, but it is not one Thor wishes to hear, though it is one he has thought, with great guilt, ever since Loki fell from the Rainbow Bridge.
His tormentors are not even aware of why Thor left Asgard. Not even aware of his exile, and they are still aware that all is his fault.
As those men and women, the ones who are not scientists, hurt him, whip him and rip out his teeth and fingernails and attempt to drown him over and over and over again, they tell him of what he has done wrong. Over and over and over again.
He wants to say that he knows, but he does not believe words can form in his dry throat, can exit from his cracked, bleeding lips.
He has not had water in so long.
He finally understands that the reason for this is that the scientists wish to test how long he can go without food and water, before his situation becomes truly dire.
+
In the kingdom built for him that he does not rule, they call him Subject Zero, the Alien Life Form known as Thor.
Thor wishes to tell them that he is no test subject, that the title is too long for him anyhow, that he is simply Thor.
Thor, son of Odin, of Frigga, brother of Loki.
Thor, Prince.
Thor, Avenger.
Thor, who felt so much rapture when he picked up Mjolnir for the first time that he laughed and laughed and hooted in victory.
Thor, who would play war with his little brother and muss his ink black hair and sleep in his bed when he had a nightmare.
Thor, who is terrified but will not scream and will not break.
But he cannot find words to say all of these things, does not believe he will ever find words again.
So he is Subject Zero.
They only call him the full title when they speak into their recording device at the beginning of a session. Afterwards, he is Subject Zero, and not much else.
He feels horrible dread, now, when he hears his name.
+
They cut into his face, too. That is the only time that he struggles now, because he has never been able to abide wounds to his face, especially his eyes.
They carve into him, if he struggles or not.
If he finds the strength to fight especially hard, they strap him down more.
He becomes almost immobile.
He chokes when the scientists inevitably cause him to vomit, unable to roll onto his side.
He never used to vomit. In Asgard, the citizens do not acquire viruses, or food poisoning.
The scientists speak into their recording device. "Despite the fact that it has been fed food that would severely sicken a human being, Subject Zero has digested it normally for an Asgardian. Subject Zero only vomits when it is induced, specifically when a long object is inserted into its throat to induce vomiting. It appears that the gag reflex exists in Asgardians as well, but is much trickier to access than in humans."
Thor chokes and wheezes and knows he will not die. The thought gives him no pleasure.
The scientists turn him onto his side carefully. Finally he is able to expel the food from his insides. He is still restrained, and too weak to fight (something he has never been before), so he does not.
He has been restrained, in some way or another, for the length of his stay in his kingdom.
Thor misses having his body to himself most of all.
+
They have cut at him for so long now. They saw through the muscle in his legs and arms, peer at the bones, looking for differences between his body and those of Midgardians.
There are many, but Thor does not hear them, not often. Instead he pants, sucking in oxygen that he is sure is nonexistent, though he can go without breathing for hours, far longer than Midgardians. He knows this now. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his eyes that somehow regain sight every time. He shakes.
He has been tested in extreme cold. There is a point when parts of his skin become black and frozen. The scientists seemed especially fascinated by this. All Thor heard was frostbite, before he succumbed to dreamless sleep.
He has been tested in extremely hot conditions, as well.
There is a point when his skin begins to burn so terribly that it feels like it is melting. It stayed red and tender for days, even as he was experimented on and tortured. His tormentors like taking Thor for more of their torture when he has undergone especially trying experiments. They seem to enjoy seeing Thor weep from the pain.
In Asgard, weeping is not as shameful as it is here, but Thor understands now. He understands why it is considered so pathetic, so weak. Every time new tears run from his eyes, he vows that this will be the last time he shows his weakness to his tormentors.
It is never so.
+
Thor is a warrior.
He is strong.
He could crush any of the Midgardians who experiment on him, who torture him and tell him all of the wrong he has done that he is already aware of.
But he cannot.
He simply cannot.
He does not know what has been done to fortify his kingdom so well that he cannot even rise from his bonds. He has broken enchanted chains from around him before.
He has been able to strain his restraints. To almost tear them. But every time he begins to gain hope that he will be able to break his fetters and fight his way out of this situation, his restraints are changed when he is sleeping and become even stronger.
Or perhaps he is becoming weaker.
He does not eat enough--the tiny human portions that he is given do not do him any good. He does not drink enough.
He is constantly injured, and his injuries take time to heal. The scientists help him along, stitch his injuries while he sleeps. He does not appreciate this.
It only means that they wish to do more experiments on him.
It seems like they have done all they possibly can, but they have not. Science is never done, Tony told him once.
+
He is Thor.
Thor, son of Odin, and Frigga, brother of Loki.
Thor, Prince.
Thor, Avenger.
+
Even his tormentors, who are not scientists and thus have little reason to not call him by his true name, call him Subject Zero.
Most of the time, they do not call him anything.
This hurts more than the torture, at times.
And the torture hurts quite a lot.
As Thor becomes weaker, pain becomes more potent.
+
He is Thor.
Thor Odinson.
Thor, Prince.
Thor, Avenger.
Thor, Subject Zero.
+
Thor's dreams become fainter and fainter, more and more confused, but they are still better than his reality, awash in soft colors--not simply gray and silver and red and red and red and white--and fond memories.
Thor locks himself into his mind, lately, when his tormentors torture him, when the scientists cut into him.
He is not allowed to sleep, after all, when the experiments go on. They say it is because they wish to monitor his reactions.
Thor does not know if he has many reactions anymore.
He is a statue made of gold.
Loki always called him the golden child, the golden son.
Golden son, golden son, golden sun, Thor wishes to step into the sun, burn away, he already knows how the high temperatures will affect him, but he will manage the pain--he is a warrior, he has been injured, just as he has been well--he will burn away, he will be in agony and he will not scream, for he has felt agony before, and how could it be true agony if it allows him to embrace death?
There is no pain, Thor tells himself when the pain is dizzying and so all-consuming that it is almost unreal. There is no pain, there is no pain, there is no pain. His cracked, bleeding lips mouth those words, and he does not struggle.
He is strong enough to take this with grace, he knows now. He was a fool to ever think of escape, to ever formulate those plans in his mind, the mind that he does not have, because he is merely a vessel.
Escape is nothing but a faraway hope, the kind that children entertain.
Thor is not a child. He has been alive too long, and done much wrong.
He still thinks of escape, but is almost able to keep it a secret from himself.
He will accept this punishment for all the atrocities that he has brought upon Midgard.
+
Avenge, avenge, avenge, he has forgotten what the word means. It is somewhere in the back of his mind, in a prison. Truly, all of his mind is a prison.
He has forgotten many things, and remembered them, and made the decision to forget them, and been reminded of them by his tormentors.
One year.
Nothing, it is nothing. Not for Thor, who has been alive a thousand years.
But a year is a year, in the end, and it means more to Midgardians, who are so mortal, who would die so easily when enduring what Thor has endured.
Thor was an Avenger for a year, and some months, even.
It used to hurt, that he was not important enough to save, before he realized what he had done to their home, and understood.
Even so, the time that he spent with the Avengers, with his new teammates--
It was an excellent time.
+
He is Thor.
Thor Odinson.
He is Subject Zero.
He is not a King, but he has a kingdom, though he knows that something about that is not right.
However, in the end he has a title, all the same.
Subject Zero, the Alien Life Form known as Thor.
+
His breath rattles in his chest, and his hunger and thirst are gone because they are always there.
Words have escaped him.
He knows many things, has lived such a long life he must know many things, but so much of his mind has locked itself away, and so many thoughts race away before he can catch them, and many and more are simply nonsense that must mean something, he just cannot remember what.
He shivers convulsively, but does not know if it is cold.
He is not aware of many things.
The experiments still proceed, his tormentors still torture him and tell him those things that he truly does know.
They mean to kill him, the scientists. Thor does not know how he knows, but he supposes he must have heard it. They speak into their recording device, after all, so he can hear.
He has heard, certainly, because he knows.
They wish to know how an Asgardian dies.
He supposes it is quite similar to how a Midgardian does.
Death is death.
+
Thor is dreaming, but it is more intricate, feels more real than the others he has had lately.
His sharp ears hear the sound of battle down the hall, near his room, but that is impossible.
There will be an experiment today, he is sure of it.
His tormentors visit him less and less.
He supposes he must be thankful for that.
Thor remembers glorious battles. He remembers enough, the sights and sounds and tastes, in small pieces, all of them, but he remembers that he was exceptional.
There is shouting, there are voices, voices that Thor believes he recognizes.
He thought that he had stopped having such dreams.
There is a gunshot--that strange, dangerous Midgardian weapon that so fascinates Thor, one that he never learned to wield--and a scientist falls through the open door of Thor's room, dead. Blood, but it is not his.
Thor feels ill. He does not like blood.
And then there is a woman, and Thor remembers that somebody must have killed the scientist.
She is beautiful, dressed all in black, red hair, the same as he remembers it, perhaps shorter.
He knows her.
When she looks at him, her eyes widen and her mouth opens.
He must not look well. She was never one to show so much emotion.
But it is a dream, besides, and he never truly knew her.
"Thor," she says, and that is all.
That is his name, yes.
That is what he is known as.
Subject Zero, the Alien Life Form known as Thor.
She walks to him, briskly, and he smiles a little. He has not had much cause to do so for quite some time, and a drop of blood rolls from his cracked lips, down his chin.
Her light eyes are soft as she wipes it away.
"We'll get you out of here," she says, her voice soothing as she works at his restraints.
They will not break, Thor wishes to say.
Her eyes become bright with frustration, and she looks around the room, at the clean supplies that the scientists have, and finally finds some sharp thing that Thor is sure has cut into him to cut through the restraints.
It will not work.
It does not work.
She swears and finally disappears.
Thor wonders where she has gone, wishes she would not leave. But the restraints loosen, and loosen, and loosen, and finally are so loose that she is able to help him get his legs and his arms and his torso from under them, though afterwards he is terribly tired.
This dream feels very real.
He is lying down, and he looks into her eyes.
Natasha must see something in them that disturbs her, for she smiles and says, "You're safe now."
Thor says nothing. He mouths instead, with words that will not some out as anything but painful less than whispers. "This is a good dream."
Natasha's smile disappears to become something more mournful. "This isn't a dream. This is real."
Thor shakes his head. "No. Life is only sweet when I sleep."
She touches his hair, the hair that has been shorn so frequently throughout all this time. He feels her.
It feels real.
He wakes up.
+
Really, he sleeps.
When he wakes, truly, he is being prodded, and then he is where he was before, in his dream, unrestrained.
Natasha is still there, but along with her are the rest of the Avengers.
Steve has his hand on Thor's shoulder, and Thor pretends it does not frighten him, this sudden contact.
Steve's eyes are very blue. They look like glass. There are tears building inside them, Thor finally understands.
Do not weep, he wishes to say. Do not weep, go. Leave me, I am deserving of this.
He cannot say anything at all.
He trembles.
Bruce grips a large stack of paper in one hand. He is not his green counterpart. Thor wonders why. He wonders what the papers have written upon them, to give Bruce's skin that green tint.
Tony is there too, in Iron Man.
And Clint, with his bow, looking as though he has seen something very terrible.
Thor would like to ask what.
But he sleeps again.
He does not dream.
It is a blessing.
+
When he finally wakes, he does not open his eyes. He is in a hard bed, but it is a bed, with a blanket, and this must be another dream, but his sluggish mind reminds him that it is not.
Thor wonders how he is meant to feel.
Somebody is holding his hand, so he feels that instead.
"He's awake," somebody says. "Open your eyes, Thor."
And he does. He is in--
He...
The walls are white, but not the blinding white that he recalls.
There is a needle in his arm, and the sight of it makes his breath quicken, because he knows needles. But this is merely the intravenous device that Thor suddenly recalls Bruce explaining to him, one long, slow day.
He remembers this place...
"You're in Avengers Tower. In the hospital wing." Natasha says it quietly, and Thor is almost certain he remembers this place now, in a vague manner.
He shudders, and does not know why.
He does not think he is truly here. He will wake, soon enough, though he knows he has woken, in the back of his mind he knows that he has woken.
Natasha presses his hand harder. Her hand is very small, compared to his. But his hand seems smaller all the same, thinner, perhaps.
That hand has been cut open and resewed many, many, many times.
Thor does not wish to think of that.
There is no pain, he says to himself, closing his eyes softly. When he opens them, Natasha still looks at him, frown on her face.
"I pressed the Emergency button," she says quietly. "Everybody should be here soon."
Thor does not entirely understand what she says, because he feels terribly far away.
"Do you want water?" Natasha asks.
Thor has not had that choice for what seems a very long time. He nods yes. He wonders if words have abandoned him entirely, and decides that once his throat is no longer dry to the point of being unable to speak, he will know.
Natasha brings him water in a plastic cup. He sucks it through a straw. It tastes cold and wonderful, just as the water they would give him where he used to be would taste. Thor gestures for more, to know if he will not be denied it, and Natasha brings it to him.
He drinks deep.
He does not drink so much.
Near what seems to be the end of Thor's imprisonment, nature did not call so often as it used to, but it did, on occasion, and had more often before, and soiling himself was always humiliating. Often he would have to stay as he was, in stinking Midgardian underwear and little else, for far too much time until he was cleaned.
He does not wish to drink so much water that he loses control.
Thor has his pride, and he does not wish for those who were his teammates to see how pathetic he has become.
The rest of his teammates burst into his spacious hospital room.
"Thor, buddy!" Tony says genially, and Thor comes close to smiling, but does not, in the end. "I'd ask how you've been, but..."
Steve clears his throat loudly. "I'm so glad you're awake. It's...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that this happened, I'm sorry you weren't found earlier, I..."
Tony rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Thor doesn't need your sorries, Steve."
"What Thor needs," Bruce finally speaks. "Is for somebody to check him over now that he's awake."
Clint, who has not yet spoken, walks up to Thor's bedside, to the side that Natasha does not currently occupy.
Thor finally speaks, asks the question that has been on his mind for so long. He has basic ideas from his experiences, but he does not know the truth, not in full. "What..." he says, and is pleased for a brief moment that his words have not abandoned him. "...happened? Who...?" That is all he able to say, before he exhausts himself.
There is a change that comes over the room when he says those words, the first true words that he has said in a very long time.
Steve is the one who speaks. "Do you really want to talk about that right now? I mean, you've been through a lot, and...I think maybe you should rest before we explain."
Thor shakes his head, though it causes a jolt of pain to run through his mind. Please, he mouths.
Steve sighs, worried. "It's...simple, actually. There were people in the World Security Council...rogues, I guess, some of them really high up, who decided that." Steve clears his throat, clearly ashamed. "That you were at fault for the things that Loki has done, and after Loki attacked again, they decided to take matters into their own hands, on the down low. Early on, when you just joined the Avengers, these people made a high security prison that was specifically built to hold you, using data from SHIELD, given to them by some scientists that were...interested in you.
"So when you returned from Asgard, they were ready for you, and they took you. After that, well. After that, we realized you'd disappeared, and we started looking everywhere, because you weren't anywhere you were supposed to be. We checked with SHIELD, we checked with the Security Council, we couldn't find you. You weren't on the radar at all. We probably even talked to some of the people who knew where you were, but they hid pretty well. It took a long time to find you, to realize that the Security Council was behind it. Natasha and Clint did some spy work and recognized that the Council, even the people who weren't rogues, knew what was happening, they just ignored it to keep people happy. They found an informant in the Security Council who understood more about what was happening than most others, and didn't agree with it, and that informant managed to figure out where the jail was, and take us to you. So we took out everybody who was where you were at the time, and we've taken out all of the people who did this from the Security Council, and they're facing trial."
There are too many words for Thor to truly understand, but he knows what has happened well enough, knows who it has been that did this to him, knows that he is safe now.
But he is not.
He does not feel safe, so there is no way.
He cannot be.
Bruce comes over to him, moves Clint away from his side and moves to touch his neck, but Thor moves away violently.
Dr. Banner.
A scientist. Thor's friend, all the same.
"Thor," Bruce says quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to check you. The most invasive of the procedures were done while you were sleeping, and you're mostly healed. From what I can tell, you're malnourished and dehydrated, but I still want to check you."
Thor takes a breath, and allows Bruce to touch him. Thor is not certain of what Bruce checks, but it is done before much time has been spent, and Thor is able to come away from where he has gone inside of his mind.
He looks to the teammates assembled in this hospital room, and feels a rush of relief, followed by one of terrible fear.
He is not certain as to why.
"I apologize," he says. He says it because it is something he must say, because the filthy guilt that he feels for what he brought to Midgard will never be washed from his skin, but he can at the very least ask for forgiveness from these teammates that seem to somehow not disdain him for what he has done.
His teammates look confused. "Thor, big guy," Tony says, strained. "There's nothing to be sorry about."
Thor simply pushes on, because he needs no kindnesses or lies. "I apologize," he whispers. He is very tired.
"It's okay," Clint says quickly, and he smiles an easy smile.
"We forgive you," Natasha whispers.
The others nod.
Thor does not feel absolved, not truly, but perhaps he can sleep more easily, now.
For sleep is all he wants.
+
He does not sleep easily.
As he dreamed so sweetly in captivity, now he has horrid nightmares.
He wakes screaming and thrashing and weeping, because he is not truly safe he is not truly safe he is not truly safe.
When he is woken by an ashen-faced team, he is not entirely sure where he is.
"There is no pain," he whispers as he finally settles, trying to sooth himself as he shakes.
He looks up at his team and does not know who there is to trust--scientists, and a man with power, and a man that has a look about him that reminds Thor of one of the scientists that spoke into the recording device.
He begins to shake again. "Thor?" somebody says quietly, in a calm, calculated voice. Natasha.
She can protect him.
She has protected him. They have all done so, but she was with him, she was in the sweetest dream of all.
He reaches blindly for her, and with a raised eyebrow, she takes his hand, and sits on the chair next to the hospital bed, where she was before, and Thor falls asleep.
Even so, he does not for long. His dream is drenched in blood, his own blood, boiling in the unbearable heat.
He wakes and he stumbles out of his bed, pulling his hand from Natasha's as he does so. She is sleeping.
He walks into the bathroom, urinates, and then looks at himself in the long mirror.
He is not well.
He understands, now, why Natasha looked at him in such a shocked manner, when she saw him.
He is thin. His muscle is not so obvious now, not at all. In fact, Thor is almost certain that much of it has simply withered away. He is shaking. His face looks pinched and unsmiling, and his lips bleed. His hair is shorn, but it has been growing again, and rests at his chin in thin, dirty strands.
He wears a bathrobe that he cannot remember putting on and there is an IV in his arm, he has somehow pulled the stand along with him. He looks different. He is himself, all the same, he can see it.
But he is himself, diminished.
He does not know why he survived. Alone in the bathroom, he is terrified. The lights are harsh, and remind him of there, of his kingdom. It is warm, and he is suddenly, violently reminded of the blisters that formed on his skin after the heat. Still, he is afraid to take off the bathrobe, afraid that it will be cold, that his skin will become frozen again.
He believes he can see shapes out of the corners of his eyes, that there are people there to take him back to where he escaped from.
"Please," he wishes to weep. "Please do not take me, I cannot, I cannot, I cannot." But he does not speak.
His legs, too weak to work for so long a time, give out from under him, and he is kneeling on the floor, the white squares of the bathroom.
He trembles. He feels vomit building in the back of his throat, but knows that it will settle soon enough, unless it is induced.
He hangs his head. He is tired, he is tired, he is tired, but he cannot sleep. He fears that if he sleeps he will wake up there again.
Thor is broken, but he should not be. He is a warrior. He cannot break.
He is no warrior.
He is Subject Zero.
Somebody pads into the bathroom, and Thor attempts to move as far away as possible from them, but in the end is merely pressed against the wall.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Natasha says. "I'm not lying."
Thor cannot look at her, for he has begun to weep again, despite his constant vows to himself that he will not do so anymore.
"I'm sorry about what happened, Thor. Eight months is a long time."
Eight months is nothing.
But it felt as though years passed by every day, there.
Thor is strong.
There is no pain.
"There is no pain," he whispers to himself.
"No," Natasha agrees, and touches his hand lightly. He takes her hand.
She comes closer, resting her head upon his shoulder. He finds himself resting his head upon hers, her soft red hair.
He is less frightened, now. Even so, he should not be frightened at all.
All is well, all is well, all is well. There is no pain.
But it is as though his stomach is tearing apart, but he must not think of that, must not think of such things, because he remembers the scientists cutting into his abdomen and--and he must not.
He will forget. It is over, it is over, it is over.
It does not feel over.
His body feels as though it is buzzing, and his breathing is shallow. He concentrates on feeling Natasha's hair against his cheek. His tears burn down his face, and sink into her hair.
He does not know if he can forget.
He should have died, he thinks ruefully. He is no longer a warrior, merely a done man, a burden that his comrades shall begrudgingly take because they are good.
"You're scared," Natasha whispers. Thor does not respond, will not share his shame. "I will protect you." She says the words precisely, and Thor thinks, with little of the humor that he should be feeling, to earlier on, when those words were what he had briefly, madly believed. "We'll all protect you."
Thor is not quite able to believe her, but even so, the words make his trembling subside, make his breath come a small bit deeper, slower.
The body beside him, alive and well and free, allows him to begin to sleep again.
He is reluctant to do so, but his own body has grown weak, and he cannot fight sleep for much longer.
Natasha guides his head to her lap, and that is how he finally rests.
His sleep is troubled, but not by terrors.
And that is all he can truly hope for, now.