Archive of Our Own

Thor has been back in Avengers Tower for three days.

He isn't okay.

Natasha didn't expect him to be, of course. She's been trained to expect everything, so she'd planned for the worst.

But the truth is that when she finally found Thor--after a battle that she did not even feel because she could taste the victory, the battle the Avengers had been fighting for almost the full year almost at an end--the sight took her breath away. Natasha is not often surprised, and she is not often sickened.

Looking at Thor, she was both.

She shouldn't have been, of course. She's not supposed to be surprised, but she didn't even recognize Thor at first.

The Thor she'd remembered had been large, had looked powerful, well-muscled and healthy and always standing tall. The Thor she'd found had been strapped onto a table in nothing but underwear, his restraints keeping him almost immobile. The Thor she'd found had been thin enough to look sick, had lost too much of his muscle mass. The Thor she'd found had been pale, and had looked at her with clouded eyes, and had been unable to even speak, mouthing words instead, through wrecked, bleeding lips.

Natasha had been truly relieved to see him again, alive, but she'd also been surprised, and angry.

She's still angry, because for the past couple of days it's become clear that some awful things happened to Thor in his prison. Awful being an understatement, of course.

Things that not even Natasha can imagine, that none of her teammates can imagine.

Things that broke Thor.

Natasha knows that everybody has a breaking point, but she knew Thor for a year, fought next to him, befriended him. She'd been fond of Thor. She is fond of Thor. That hasn't changed.

But she knows how strong he is. She's seen him get up and keep going after things that would leave anybody else utterly wrecked. She's seen his brother try to kill him, and has heard fond stories about Loki despite it. Thor has even told her stories that involve him being tortured. Nothing like what's happened to him now, of course, and pretty standard fare, but...

Natasha has to wonder what could have happened to him to destroy him like this.

She doesn't want to know.

She will, anyway. All of them will.

Grimly, Natasha accepts this, as she feels Thor shivering, his head in her lap, dirty hair making a halo around his gaunt face.

Natasha knows she will have to accept part of Thor's burden as his teammate.

She cares, of course.

But she doesn't mind.

+

Thor has always had nightmares.

When he was a child, his dreams were dim and troubled and childish--losing people he loved, monsters under his bed, and so on.

He used to wake up and pant for a time, forgetting to breathe deeply, and then stumble to his feet, certain that there were monsters in the shadows.

He used to go to Loki's room and wait anxiously at the door, hugging himself, until Loki sighed and said, "Come on, then."

Thor would beam and he would clamber into Loki's bed and sleep next to his brother for the rest of the night, warm and feeling utterly fearless.

When Thor was older, and began going off to battle, he found that his dreams changed ever so slightly. Now, they were not so dim, but bright and horrible and violent, drenched in blood and dishonor and screaming and failure and eventually utter darkness.

Thor will never admit it, but he is afraid of the dark.

He loved battle, he did, the feeling of power and intense heat and righteous rage and an undercurrent of belonging, of being exceptional at something. Battle was in his blood, in his bones.

But it was not all so enjoyable. There were always times when the heat of the battle had passed and Thor and his men were left to pick their way through desolation, through bodies of dead soldiers who had fought well and true. There were times when they simply lost.

And afterwards, battle was in his dreams.

And in his dreams it was always terrible.

But Loki would let him into his bed, still. Would say, "Come on, then," in that put upon way, and even, at rare moments, hold Thor while he wept--for a lost comrade, for lost innocence, for his disturbed sleep, for the sound of screaming and the crunching of bones that would forever haunt him--and stroke his hair. "Hush, brother," he would say. "Sleep, now, you are safe. All is well."

Thor tries to remember those words, how Loki's arms felt around him, how he felt better, truly, when he shared Loki's bed, as he lies in the dark, terrified and alone, but cannot.

Loki is not here anymore.

Loki has abandoned him.

This is, in part, even Loki's fault.

But Thor pushes that thought away, because, in truth, none of this is Loki's fault.

It is Thor's.

He is trembling again. The world seems much colder lately. He pulls his covers further over his shoulders. He should not be so frightened, he tells himself. This is his home. He is finally out of the hospital wing--though Bruce has made it very clear that he will not be going back into battle for some time--and back on his floor.

A tear runs down his cheek and into his hair before he realizes he is weeping. He growls in frustration, but is then silence. Even making noises is exhausting to him, as of late.

"Thor?" JARVIS says gently, and Thor shivers in surprise at the disembodied voice, the magic in the building, the ghost trapped within the walls of Avengers Tower. "Are you well? Would you like for me to call somebody?"

"No!" Thor says abruptly. He does not wish for any of his teammates to see his weakness, especially because he has already shown so much of it. A figure moves in the corner of Thor's vision, and his breath becomes quicker.

"If your vital signs get any more erratic, I must warn you that I will be summoning Dr. Banner."

Thor controls his breathing. "No," he says weakly. "Please do not. I am well."

The dark is suffocating. He sighs. "Turn on the lights," he attempts to order in a princely manner, but instead he merely sounds like a frightened child.

"Of course."

The warm light in Thor's bedroom helps some.

Not enough.

+

Thor has been back home for three weeks, and he doesn't talk often. His eyes look haunted. He still stubbornly insists that he's fine at every turn, of course. He even tries to smile, as if he's trying to bring back a boisterousness to his manner that he's not going to be able to regain for a while.

He spends most of his time on his floor, or wandering around the tower like a ghost, even though he really can't.

It's clear enough that even though the injuries that Thor must have accumulated over eight months of torture have healed, his body is still weak. He can't stand or walk without help for too long, and his weight is far below what must be his average. It's strange to see Thor looking so thin, lacking so much muscle.

It must be strange for Thor too, because Steve can see how desperate he is to get things back to the way they were, to get his body back to the way it was. He probably thinks that that would fix everything.

But it wouldn't.

Thor ignores Bruce's warnings that he shouldn't be exerting himself so much and keeps walking and walking and walking until his legs give out, going up and down the stairs instead of just taking the elevator.

Steve hates it, hates the fact that he couldn't protect his teammate, that Thor's in so much pain and there's not really anything he can do about it.

It never takes long for Thor to fall. Generally, Steve manages to manhandle him back to wherever's closest--the living room couch or Thor's bed, usually with Natasha helping, not because Steve really needs help practically carrying Thor, but because Thor seems to feel safest around her, and he doesn't take well to people who aren't her touching him. If she's there, Thor doesn't seem to be so scared of Steve's touch.

Whenever Steve finally gets Thor to rest, he always says, "Please, just...take it easy. These things take time."

Thor never responds, just stares sullenly, never at anything in particular.

Steve thinks of Bucky.

Steve couldn't save Bucky, but maybe he can still save Thor.

"That's your problem," Tony says when Steve tells him. "You want to save everyone."

"You're one to talk," Steve mumbles.

Tony shrugs. "You're right. I want to help him too. But what you're not getting is that Thor doesn't need saving. We already did that. What he has to do now is get better."

Steve nods, because he always forgets that Tony's a genius and not only that, but strangely perceptive. "You're right."

Tony smirks. "Of course I am."

+

Thor has always disliked being weak for any reason, which is why he has always hated going to healers and being ill in any way.

Now he feels as though he is always ill, short of breath. Bruce tells him that he is fine to walk short distances, tells him that he must work on regaining his strength, but at the same time he tells him to not over exert himself. Thor wishes he could train, but he knows that he would never be able to do so, that his teammates would not allow it.

He is a Prince of Asgard, he thinks bitterly. He can do whatsoever he wishes.

But he knows that he cannot.

He has become weak.

"The recovery process is long," Bruce says with sympathy in his eyes. "Eventually, you will start to regain your strength, but you really shouldn't push it. That can do more harm than good. So no more stairs, okay? Do the exercises that I taught you."

The exercises are painful and yet do not feel like enough, simply lying on his back and moving his legs, or such foolishness. Thor does the exercises anyhow, and hates them, and does not understand.

He does not understand how it is that his body has broken down so thoroughly.

One night, a month after returning to the tower, he destroys one of the rooms on his floor. He smashes the coffee table to shards, throws the television against the wall, overturns the sofa--and that is all that he can do before he sits down suddenly, staring at the wreckage that he has begun.

Is this how he repays Tony's hospitality? Thor is disgusted with himself, does not know why he has done this, does not understand--

anything.

He does not understand anything at all.

His mind is muddled and has become weak, just like the rest of him.

Thor does not notice he is weeping until a small hand wipes away tears from his cheek, though they continue to run unbidden from his eyes.

"I am not weak," he says.

"I know," Natasha responds. "We all do."

Thor can sense the rest of his teammates behind him, either that or they are coming again, he is going away again, he does not wish to leave--

"Damn," Tony says. "Well, you've still got it."

Thor is trembling.

It is winter.

On Asgard, it is never cold.

But whether Thor misses Asgard, he cannot say.

He would not want his family to him this way, nor the Warriors Three and Sif, nor those who will one day be his subjects. He does not want them to see him brought down so low by Midgardians.

+

Tony watches Thor watching the sunset, shoulders stooped, and has no idea what to say.

I know how you feel, is a lie, or, at best, just a little true. Tony has an idea of how Thor feels, but he can't go as far as to say that he really understands. What happened to Tony was shitty and, yes, he can admit at this point that it was traumatizing, and it fucked him up, etc., but it's not like what happened to Thor.

Tony's not saying that what he went through wasn't bad.

But he knows that what Thor went through was worse. It's not really a contest, his therapist would say, nobody's pain trumps anyone else's.

But Tony wouldn't be Tony if he listened to everything his therapist said, and hey, he doesn't mind making it a contest.

Tony likes being number one, but Thor can win this time.

In the end, it's not really much of a victory.

Tony walks over to where Thor is leaning heavily on the balcony's balustrade and mirrors Thor's position. It's almost comfortable.

It changes you, doesn't it? Tony almost says, but doesn't, because sometimes he knows when to keep his mouth shut.

Thor's eyes are closed, his face turned up towards the warmth of the setting sun.

Tony follows suit, feels the sun on his face, and breathes in and out, because he's breathing and Thor's breathing, they're both still breathing, and usually that doesn't feel like a miracle, and it probably shouldn't feel like a blessing, but it's what matters right now.

+

Thor cannot breathe, and truly, it is a simple thing, inhale, exhale, but no, he cannot breathe, no, no, no, he does not want the figures in his vision to touch him, he will not go back, he will not go back, he will not go back--

(but he never left, never, never, never)

he is in the white room, he cannot move, he must be strapped down, he cannot breathe, what are they doing to him? what experiment is this? he cannot hear their words, he cannot breathe--

Brother, Loki says, look at what you've gotten yourself into now, but his voice is here and then gone and, oh, Thor is going mad, in the great Odinson tradition--

Subject Zero, that is not his name, that is not his name, that cannot be his name

the alien life form

that is what he is, he is nothing, he is flesh and he is bones and he is muscle, he is to be painted in the image of these scientists, this is not his body, this is not the body of a Prince of Asgard

known as Thor

oh.

it is it is it is

he will not be hurt anymore

please

He slowly comes back, realizes that he is not where he thought he was, shaking and breathing shallowly. His legs have given out from under him and he is not being held down, he is being held. 

Tears streak down his face, and he is tired of crying but also far too tired to hold back his weeping. He has half-destroyed the kitchen and the room outside of the kitchen, and he wishes he would not.

He buries his face in Natasha's hair, digging his fingers into her shoulders too hard, bruises bloom upon her bare skin like flowers.

He inhales as she breathes deeply, copying the rise and fall of her chest. They breathe in tandem.

She smells sweet, perfume mingled with sweat.

+

Bruce is angry.

He's not one for hate, but he hates the people that did this to Thor, who Natasha and Steve just managed to put to bed after a freak out. Bruce isn't really sure what triggered it, but he supposes a lot of things must trigger Thor.

Bruce sits in his lab and he takes out the hard copy of the transcripts of the experiments those alleged scientists did on Thor, on his friend, and he reads. He feels some kind of obligation to do so, to see what happened, to investigate, to understand.

He pretends he doesn't feel any kind of curiosity.

He loathes himself for the fact that before Thor was captured, he'd been thinking of asking him to take some blood tests, answer some questions about his physiology.

A few steps further, a few more breaches of ethics, and Bruce could have been a scientist like the ones that did these experiments on Thor, half of which seem to just be sadistic games. Bruce wouldn't do half the experiments described within the transcripts on a lab rat, let alone a being just as advanced as humans.

But somehow they seemed to miss that, these people. They seemed to believe that just because Thor wasn't human, they were allowed to do these experiments.

Bruce can't imagine what must have happened to Thor's sense of identity over those months, with the Midgardians he had protected treating him as less than an animal.

In the transcripts, the scientists call Thor "it", which is almost too much for Bruce, his vision going green every time he reads that little word.

It.

Golden Man, Hulk says in the back of Bruce's mind, confused about what has happened to his comrade, but knowing that he has been wronged. He's all broken up. Fix him.

Bruce massages his temples, trying to push back the other guy's confused rage with measured breathing. I'm trying. 

He's trying to understand what Thor has gone through, the things that may trigger him, the things that may have affected his health in the long-term.

But Bruce can't really understand what Thor has gone through, and one of the things that makes him shudder, that fills him with guilt every night, is that he has come so close so many times to being the dehumanized experiment they tried to make Thor, but he's always managed to narrowly escape.

Really, the question Bruce has been asking himself all his life is why, in so many different shapes and forms.

Now is no different. The question is still why. Why did this happen to him and not me? 

(There's no answer to that question, but Bruce feels no small amount of self-hatred when he realizes how relieved he is that it wasn't him.)

+

"Jane called," Bruce says. "She wants to know if you're ready to see her yet."

Thor shakes his head no.

He cannot face her this way, his Lady Jane. He has been alive for a very long time, but never has he so quickly loved a woman. The year they were together was wonderful.

Until.

Now he cannot see her.

He would rather they keep their lovely memories of each other than taint their time together making new memories of his pathetic struggles.

A year is a very short time, when one has lived a life like Thor's, but despite this, when the year is important enough, it can feel long all the same, which is why Thor has never fretted over the fact that many of the people he has grown to love will die so very soon. It is far better to experience something good for a short time than push away these things simply because they expire.

Thor is not going to ruin everything just to have more time with his beloved, time that he craves.

"She looked for you, you know. She looked everywhere. She never gave up. She loves you, Thor."

"And I her. That is why we cannot..."

"I don't think you're giving her enough credit," Bruce says quietly.

Thor hangs his head, because it feels too heavy to keep up.

"Think about it, okay?"

Thor cannot stop.

+

Thor's not allowed to spar or work out at the gym, but he likes watching the others.

He doesn't like letting them out of his sight, Clint's noticed, and he gets it. Thor's been basically alone for months, he's probably terrified of being alone at this point. Clint knows for a fact that he can barely even sleep alone. Thor always starts the night alone, sure, but in the morning he's always curled up with Natasha, who seems to bring him some kind of peace that his male teammates can't.

Clint guesses that it's because Natasha's was the first friendly face Thor saw after months of captivity.

It's a new side of Natasha, definitely. She's always been patient and protective of the very few people she cares for, but he's never seen her so nurturing. She's stepped easily into the role of caretaker. Clint's impressed, and he's glad. Natasha's always trying to make up for the things she's done, and this is going to help not only Thor, but her.

Clint just wishes that he could help Thor. It's been six months and Thor seems to be getting better, but it's always one step forward, two steps back.

Thor's trying to make it seem like he's getting better quickly, like nothing's wrong, but he's not fooling anybody.

In any case, Clint never feels like he can do anything for Thor, to make things easier for him, and Clint hates that, not being able to do things he wants to do.

They don't spend time alone together, either, except for when Clint's practicing in the target range late at night. Somehow, Thor always knows when it's happening, and ten or twenty minutes into the practice, he slips into the room with unnerving silence and sits down, back against the wall, and watches arrow after arrow hit the bullseye or moving target. It seems to calm him.

It always makes Clint feel better, to have Thor there watching, as if he's actually helping with the recovery. Hell, maybe he is.

He and Thor used to spend a lot of time together, before all of this, drinking and watching TV and sparring on occasion. Now, Thor seems so far away, and it hurts Clint to see his friend like that.

One night, the silence gets to him, and Clint starts singing even though Thor's in the room. It helps him concentrate, and he's cheerful tonight.

"And all the ni-ight's magic seems to whisper and hush,
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush...
Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?"

Clint gets through the whole song, almost forgetting that Thor's in the room until he hears the sound of laughter.

One of his arrows nearly goes wide, and barely hits the bullseye.

He spins around just as Thor's chuckle ends, and Thor's grin looks almost like it used to, despite the shadows in his eyes.

"I like that song," Thor says quietly, dreamily.

Clint smiles, turns around, takes an arrow out of his quiver, and sings it again.

+

Thor dislikes food.

It cannot make him sick, not truly, but even so, he fears that there are illnesses in it, that it has rotted and will simply fester inside of him, these strange human poisons. The scientists put things in his food, he never felt it as a human would, but he knows it, and though he cannot truly be hurt by these human diseases, still the food makes him feel ill.