Plagued

There is a methodical sense of determination that drives Tony from that point on, making everyday a little more productive and the dull ache in his chest die away slowly. Mercifully, it seemed the god realized that he could leave Tony alone and what he wanted would be done. It was a whole week since he had set foot in or near the tower and by then Tony had been able to solidify the proper equations and code he needed to use in order to develop a prototype of sorts. The design he had envisioned would be able to detect and deflect magical signatures of the person in control of it and render them invisible within the magical scope of things. Of course in this time he had gotten back into his insomniac, manic-depressive state that came with being Tony Stark, yet he found himself actually enjoying having a new project that wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D. or company related. With free-range to experiment and no one hovering over his shoulder, he felt like his old self in the sense that he was creating something unprecedented and solidly ingenious.

However, Loki's device plan wasn't without its snags. He was becoming more frustrated with himself as the days wore on because something in his readings was off. The resting energy patterns of Loki's body gave off a distinct anomaly which he had deduced had to be magic, but it was severely inconsistent with the heightened energy signal that was given off when he reactivated Jarvis or even the reading when he had attacked Tony (which of course Jarvis had taken and isolated like a good little AI unit). It didn't make any sense at all. They should at the very least be similar with slight variations caused by the specific spell used, right? They shouldn't look as if there were three separate entities at work. He compared the data for the umpteenth time, attempting to comprehend the reason for complete individuality in the three readings. "Jarvis, show the scans again," he said and started blankly at the screens as Jarvis replayed the frequency readings as they had occurred. They never once overlapped or even mirrored each other and it was getting on his nerves that he, a fricken genius, could not come up with any correlation between the three.

He stared blankly at the screen, the gears turning in his mind and still coming up with nothing. "Jarvis compare each frequency with the vital signs recorded," he said and waited for them to project on the screen. He examined them closely and began to notice that in the first, all the vitals appeared normal for a body at rest, which he had expected, but the second set of stats was alarming. It appeared as if the god had been going into severe cardiac arrest and shouldn't have been able to stand, let alone cast any spells. Tony counted it as a strange coincidence and went to examine the next set of readings, thinking almost nothing of it. A god could certainly manipulate their body and maybe it enhanced Loki's magical abilities; that could be normal. But what was bizarre was that when Loki had attacked him, the god flat-lined everywhere. No blood pressure. No heartbeat. No temperature. Nothing. It was as if Loki wasn't even there anymore. "Jarv, you sure you got his vitals the last time?"

"I am certain of it, sir. While it is a very strange occurrence, these are the correct data."

"That can't be right. Something's up. Even a god can't go on without a pulse," he muttered and replayed the data scans. It was at that moment that he felt the air chill considerably and he heard a sharp, bitter intake of breath behind him. He spun quickly, wielding a screwdriver and bracing himself on the steel tabletop. His eyes widened in shock as he was met with the incredibly red face and trembling form of Loki who looked nothing like the menacing, calculating, manipulative bastard that had forced him into this. He looked small and helpless, which was difficult when you towered above everyone and were the spurned stepchild of Odin. It didn't look right. The sight of Loki looking so broken and exposed made his gut twist and his face scrunch in distaste. "Stop it. You’re really starting to freak me out,” Tony said, still holding his screwdriver out as a weapon. Loki's eyes flashed up from the screen and landed on Tony's face with an unfathomable pain shining in the tear-filled eyes.

"My magic is killing me, Stark," he said, his voice still deep and deadly, but it lacked the heat of his usual spite and venom. “I am dying.” It was a solemn declaration as he lifted his eyes again to the scans behind Tony’s head again. He studied them silently and shook his head. “You were able to monitor the exact kinds of damage I suffered, you know better than I that this is true.”

"Why would your own body betray you? What would you even have to do to make that sort of thing happen?" Tony asked still bewildered and lost. So Loki had some sort of autoimmune deficiency going on, but that was more bio-medical than Tony knew how to deal with not to mention something completely alien and for all he knew it was impossible to fix.

"I...I don't know…" Loki answered faintly, his face souring with the words. "I don't feel right."

"How long has this been happening to you?" The touch of concern in Tony's voice scares even him. Why should he care that Loki is dying? This is what he wanted, to have the immortal meet his end as quickly as possible. So why, now that he was getting exactly what he wanted since he was flung out of his tower, was he feeling compassion and concern for his enemy? Loki sensed the shift in Tony and narrowed his eyes at the billionaire in confused anger.

"Why does it matter? I'm your nemesis, Stark, I am not the one you try to save," he replied coldly and turned away, shielding himself from the piteous look in the engineer's large brown eyes. He almost let himself slip, almost allowed himself to believe that someone could care for him in spite of himself. But the only emotions he could seem to stir in others were hatred, fear, and worst of all pity. Pity was a rotten emotion for the simple-minded and the weak and he neither wanted to receive nor give it to anyone. Pity, that's what led Odin to raise him after his greed had finally died away. Pity was the only form of love he'd felt from Frigga because he knew she'd never abandoned something as broken as he was. Thor's friends only tolerated him out of pity that he was such an outcast, that he wasn't like Thor. And when the moment of truth had finally come and everyone knew what he was, it was pity that had replaced all the love and warmth in Thor's eyes. The last thing he wanted was another person's pity at his poor wretched state.

"It matters because you still have my soul, and I figure if I square this away and save your life, then we're even. It saves your life and fixes your problem and there's no technology with my name on it in a psychopath's possession," Tony answered and Loki's eyes immediately dropped away. A bitter sigh left his lips and he nodded slowly. Leave it to the genius to best the god and completely throw him off.

“Do you not find it interesting how neither you nor I have been the same since or last little skirmish?" he asked darkly. "I with a physical infirmity, no doubt curse from those senseless Chitauri. And you, a soulless creature returned to your previous vapid existence. Does it not feel like an ill-fitting suit? Like a skin that is no longer your own, but all the same familiar? " There is more emotion in his voice and it takes Tony a second to process what is happening to the god before he can even consider the words he is saying. The demigod slid down to the floor, his face paling considerably and his eyes shutting as if standing and speaking has completely exhausted him. Tony took in the sight of the Loki sitting on the ground with his legs splayed wide and eyes downcast and began to feel uneasy. He looked almost vulnerable and nearly defeated.

"I have felt like a stranger in my own body for so long that I hardly noticed such a cataclysmic shift. And I was so concerned about you," Loki's voice trailed and his face lifted to look at Tony.

"Wh-what?" Tony asked, his face scrunched up in confusion and fear.

"You are a reckless idiot and someone had to stop you from dying out there between worlds."

"You, you saved me from the wormhole. It wasn't just lucky timing or divine providence, it was you?!" Tony's eyes widen and suddenly it makes more sense. The how of it all anyway. "But why? Why would you do that?"

"My reasons are my own, Stark," Loki answered and again his eyes are on the floor. He couldn't possibly understand his motives when Loki didn't even understand them himself. He remembered the sight of Tony flying straight into the portal and the complete terror that had gripped him that he might die and be sucked into the void just as he had. Maybe it was compassion; he'd never wish the torment of what he'd seen on anyone, not even his enemy. Even still it felt deeper, more painful and so terribly real when he saw Iron Man trapped and falling helplessly. "Consider it a selfish act. I find you my only worthy adversary on Midgard and therefore refused to allow you a merciful death that I did not directly cause," he answered, the ice sliding back into his voice easily. Tony still kept a disbelieving look on his face and harsh look in his eyes. Loki sighed and rolled his eyes, picking himself from the ground. "I am a notorious liar, but what does it profit me to withhold information from you? I only lie to gain something."

"Or to retain something," Tony responded without a second's hesitation. Loki cocked his head to the side and leaned forward towards the engineer.

"And just what am I trying retain?" he asked with an impatient expression.

"Your dignity to yourself and your manipulation over me. I think I've figured it out. You need me and the only leverage you have is your supposed control of my soul. But I don't think that's the case, you don't really have it, you haven't gotten that far yet because you were already too weak to take it. So whatever hold you have, it's waning because you're getting weaker and I'm feeling just like my little ol' self more everyday. You need me to believe you can still crush me, but you can't do more than maim me," Tony stated, his eyes narrowing with every word.

"Do you not fear pain and torture? Does it not bring back tender memories of your captivity?" Loki goaded, looking for another way to hold him.

"And do you not fear death and the void, sucking you back from whence your psychotic ass came?" Tony challenged and stepped closer. He scowled up darkly, wishing he could heave his rebellious body up to loom over him and present some sort of menacing façade.

"I could squash you, end your meaningless life,” he hissed with all the rage of a trapped animal.

"Your death wish. Without me, you'll die. You'll die just as if you were a regular old human with a fatal disease. I know that no Asgardian healing room will take you and I doubt they have what it takes to save you." Loki's face drew in a hard scowl. Clever mortal. Reckless, but clever.

"What currency would suffice as payment then?" he asked low and coldly.

"Lifting whatever spell you cast is a start, to cover the finder's fee. Then we'll talk."

"In order to do that-,"

"You'll use your magic and I'll get another reading to see if it attacks you the same way for a specific type of spell or if it's just randomized types of health damages," Tony finished impatiently and folded his arms across his chest.

"Fine," the trickster answered and struggled to his feet. He gingerly placed his hand over Stark's chest, a green glow spreading from his fingertips. It felt like a weight being melted away from something buried in his chest and when it was over, it felt like the first time he'd breathed in ages.

"You son of a bitch, I can't believe I didn't consider this was a possibility before now. You really screwed me over, Bambi. No kidding," he said and glared at the god. Loki was slumped over the side of the nearest workbench, looking green and about ready to blow. "Dammit, you gonna make it princess, I really can't have you doing the Technicolor yawn all over my stuff."

"Will you quit your incessant blathering and take your readings so I may take my leave of you," Loki hissed and scowled darkly, his hand still clamped over his stomach.

"The readings are already taken, princess, you're free to go," Tony responded and turned away to completely ignore the god as Jarvis ran the data scans across the screens. This time along with the numbers, Jarvis had run a full body ultrasound and done everything short of an MRI on Loki. The spell cast had attacked his digestive tract and while he couldn't prove anything definitively, he could guess that the backfiring of magical energy was poisoning him and making everything worse. He was engrossed in isolating similarities and configuring Asgardian physiology when a weak moan behind him broke his concentration.

"Stark..." Loki said weakly and caused the mortal to turn quickly at the sound. It was not Loki's voice at all; this sound was both defeated and weak as if he couldn't speak any louder than a frail whisper. He blinked furiously at the sight of Loki once again on the floor, now curled up on himself and shaking. "I can't seem to move my body any longer," he said, eyes wild and confused. Tony bent down beside him and felt an odd mixture of guilt and sympathy that he is almost certain he's never felt before.

"Uh, hang on, longhorn, I got you," he said and hurried over to his suits and attached the armor quickly. Using the added power of the suit, he managed to hoist Loki from the ground into his arms and carry him to the elevator out of the workshop. Loki whimpered in his arms and felt his gut lurch. "Not on the suit, not on the suit, not on the suit," Tony chanted and scurried to the bathroom, placing Loki next to the toilet. The god groaned unhappily and rested his head against the porcelain with a grievous moan as he finally let the contents of his stomach go. Tony winced at the sight and backed away mildly disgusted with the smell and sound of Loki vomiting. Before he made his horrified exit, he did note that the color of the sludge was dark and almost black, and that definitely was not a good sign. He went back to the lab and compared all the data still staring blankly at the screens unable to properly decipher any of it. He needed a biologist, someone who understood the body on a more intimate level and not just the basic mechanics of it. He needed Bruce.