Shattered

Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  PTSD (nightmares), mentions of torture

You quietly dismissed yourself from the others when you got back to the tower, mentioning something about taking a nap before closing yourself in your room.

You hadn't quite been able to shake the nightmare from the night prior, even after trying to distract yourself by going shopping with everyone.

When you first arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D and eventually moved into Avengers Tower 5 years ago, you had recurring nightmares almost every night.

It got to the point where you would keep yourself awake at night, choosing to endure the hours of sleeplessness rather than the horrors that awaited you in your slumber.

And the worst part was, you felt like you had no one to confide in. Being taken from a HYDRA base, even if it was technically a rescue mission, put you on everyone's radar, and no one was quick to trust you. Especially after your stunt to sneak out and see Loki. Although you do remember Tony giving you a pat on the shoulder and praising you lightly for your snarky comment towards Loki.

You had to earn everyone's trust slowly, and that was not a quick process. You didn't like the idea of sharing your struggles with a team of special individuals that could turn around and lock you up in an instant.

The nightmares slowed down gradually over the years, but never truly stopped. When you and Bucky had grown close enough after he joined the team, you told him a bit about your struggles, but never fully divulged the severity of them. Bucky was haunted by his own past, and the last thing that you wanted to do was burden him with the struggles of yours on top of his own.

Up until last night, you had gone about 2 weeks without having a nightmare. However, last night's was particularly bad.

You opened your eyes slowly to reveal the dimly lit enclosure of your cell. The air was thick with the smell of mildew and blood, and you could hear the faint screams of other prisoners to your left.

You shifted slightly, your limbs igniting in a firey pain at the attempt. You were strewn across the cold and dirty floor of your cell, undoubtedly thrown back by guards after you passed out during your last 'session'.

You hissed sharply at the sudden pain, but continued to move until you had pulled yourself up into a sitting position against one of the walls. You placed your head back gently against the jagged wall and closed your eyes, trying to recall how long you had been with HYDRA.

A week? Two weeks? A month?

Time was a strange thing. It seemed to fly by when you were doing something enjoyable, like reading under the covers at night back at the foster home, trying to hide your flashlight light from the other sleeping children.

Other times it seemed to drag on, like when you were hiding from one of your particularly nasty foster fathers after he had had one too many beers at night. Or, in this case, being prodded and probed at for hours with no end in sight, and no one besides yourself to comfort you.

After Thomas had been taken on your first night at HYDRA, he was replaced by cruel man, who you guessed to be in his late twenties. You couldn't blame his attitude too much though, most people would also be cold and reserved after being kidnapped by a secret terrorist organization.

Still, you longed for a friend in this horrible place, someone to keep from going insane from staring at the four corners of your small cell.

Your eyes snapped open suddenly at a sound coming from the corridor outside of your cell. You heard only one pair of footsteps, which was an odd occurrence, since most times guards would come in groups of two or four.

The person's pace quickened, and you narrowed your eyes to spot a dark figure running down the hallway. When he came close enough, you looked to his face. Immediately, your gaze snapped up to his bright aqua eyes. The same kind yet exhausted eyes that had greeted you your first night at this wretched place.

Thomas stopped at your cell, panting heavily, and fumbled around in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a rusty key.

"Thomas?" You whispered, not believing the sight in front of you. "You came back?"

He only nodded, focusing on unlocking your cell door. When the door creaked open slowly, he rushed to your side, finally speaking.

"Y/N?" He asked, his voice scratchy and panicked. "We don't have much time. I was able to sneak away from the guards. The place they took me..." he trailed off. "It was awful. So much worse than here." He seemed to realize that he was talking too much, and looked down at your bloodied and beaten figure with concern. "Can you walk?"

"I can try," you whispered back. You grunted quietly at the exertion it took for you to stand up, careful not to make too much noise and alert the guards you knew were patrolling the cells, and Thomas wrapped a hand around your waist to help steady you.

He immediately took off back down the corridor he had come down, keeping his hand on your waist to help you along as you limped painfully.

"Thomas," you stopped him after walking a bit. "I'm only slowing you down. You shouldn't have come for me. I'm too weak; you should leave me. Leave while you have the chance," you told him selflessly.

"I was afraid you might say that, Y/N," Thomas said, his voice uncharacteristically cold and dry, different from his usual kind and warm words.

Before you had time to ask him what was happening, four guards came out of the shadows in front of you. You could hear more behind you, and knew you were trapped. Thomas let go of his hold on your waist suddenly, and you dropped to the floor without his hold to support you.

"What's going on?" You said weakly, confusion flashing across your face as you looked from the approaching guards back to Thomas. He only smiled back cooly at you before turning his back and walking away from you slowly.

The guards grabbed your arms and began dragging you down the hallway to somewhere you didn't recognize. Your screams echoed down the stone corridor, laced with fear, hurt, and betrayal.

"THOMAS!" You screamed, your voice shaking and cracking at the effort. "YOU BASTARD!" You shouted at his back, but he seemed unphased and continued walking in the opposite direction.

The guards pulled you into a pitch black darkness, your shrill screams still echoing in the vast nothingness.

You shake your head violently as if to get rid of the memory, returning to your place on your bed in your room. I'm safe, you repeat to yourself, trying to calm down again after reliving last night's nightmare. They can't hurt me again.

But some part of you didn't believe these words. This was the first and only time you had seen someone you recognized in your nightmares. Usually it was just memories; memories of the torture and experiments you had been subjected to throughout your captivity.

Your vision blurs as you remember the blue of Thomas's eyes, so bright and caring before turning cold and emotionless. He seemed so real. It all seemed so real.

A knocking at your door interrupts your thoughts suddenly, and you quickly wipe your eyes with your sweatshirt, wiping away the tears that you hadn't realized were there.

You stand up hastily and open your door, expecting to see Wanda or Bucky on the other side. However, your eyes widen in shock as you look up to the raven-haired god who was standing there instead.

"What do you want?" You ask him, sniffling, and quietly curse yourself. You hated showing emotion to others, it was so uncharacteristic from your usual joking and sarcastic demeanor.

Loki's eyes cloud with a million different thoughts as he sees your slightly puffy eyes. Shit. The last person you would ever want to see you weak and vulnerable just saw you crying.

"What's wrong, Lady Y/N?" He asks softly, quickly forgetting about whatever it was he came to your room to talk to you about.

"I'm fine," you say quickly, trying to avoid his worried gaze. "And the same thing I tell Thor goes for you too. No 'Lady'. Just Y/N is fine."

"It does not take me being the God of Lies to see that you are clearly not okay," he says, his voice soft. You could sense the worry in his voice, which was so unlike him.

"The only thing that's not okay is your outfit choice from today. Seriously, you looked like a witch," you tease, but even you could tell that the half-hearted joke was futile at best.

He frowns at your remark, and you only sigh in response. "It's not a big deal. I get these nightmares, you know, stuff from my past, and last night I had a particularly bad one," you mutter, and you suddenly seem to become very interested in your shoes. "Like I said, no big deal."

"Does anyone else know about these nightmares?" Loki asks, the same worry and concern lacing his voice.

"Bucky does- well, sort of. I told him about them a while ago, but I never told him how bad they were."

You look anxiously out into the hallway, fearing that someone else would be listening. Loki senses your concern and moves out of the doorway and more into the room, giving you the space to close the door if you wanted to.

You sigh before backing up slowly and sitting back on your bed, closing the door with your powers in the process. Loki stays in his same spot near the door, not wanting to get too close or intrude on your space in any way.

"I just... I thought they were getting better. I mean, it's almost been five years since everything happened. Why can't I just move on?" You say frustratedly, tears returning to your eyes.

"Recovery takes time, and it isn't always linear," Loki says softly, and you raise your eyes from the floor to meet his own. "Everyone heals and processes things differently. You shouldn't feel bad or punish yourself just because you handle things different than everyone else. It's important to share how you're feeling with others, because keeping your emotions bottled up will only make you feel worse. I've seen how you interact with others around here, and I can tell that they care for you as well."

"But I don't want to seem like a burden," you confess, looking away again. "Everyone here has been through so much, the last thing I want to do is make them feel responsible for my own well being on top of all of the things they have to go through themselves."

"Like I said, everyone processes and works through things differently. For instance, Thor trains. I assume it is the same for Captain Rogers and Lady Natasha. Stark and Banner spend their time in the lab, and Lady Wanda cooks with Vision."

You look back up to him. "What do you do?" A second of silence passes by, and you realize what you asked.

"Oh shit, sorry, that's probably a personal question. I shouldn't have asked that-"

Loki chuckles and cuts you off. "It is quite alright. When I try to take my mind off things, I practice magic or read." You don't notice as he slowly moves closer to your place on the edge of your bed, and neither does he.

"I've tried reading," you confess. "I mean, I did it all the time as a child. Reading was my escape from the harshness of the foster homes, always being told that I wasn't wanted or that something about me wasn't 'right,'" You realize what you are saying too late, and immediate add, "Crap, sorry. I've never told anyone that before."

"Don't apologize for saying your truth," Loki smiles sweetly, and you finally realize that he has taken a seat on the opposite side of the bed. "It does good to share these things with someone."

You sigh and look away for a moment, a million different thoughts flooding your mind at once. Finally, you look back to him, and recount your nightmare to him. He listens quietly and respectfully the entire time, not interrupting once or seeming to lack interest.

You finally finish detailing your nightmare with a sigh, and feel a few stray tears streaming down your face. You turn away quickly and wipe them from your eyes.

"I- um, I don't know why I told you that," you laugh awkwardly to try and break the tension. "I do feel a bit better, though," you add truthfully.

Loki smiles softly, but his eyes tell a different story. You can see the sympathy in his eyes, but after a moment, you realize that it is something else. Understanding. Empathy.

"I understand what you went through, Y/N, a little too well. But I can assure you that this does not make you 'weak' or 'vulnerable'. Instead, it shows that you are a strong person who has been through many awful and unfair things that you did not deserve. But behind it all, I see your strength. It takes true strength and bravery to go through something like this, and even more to relive it and share it with someone else."

Before you realize what you are doing, you wrap Loki in a tight hug. He seems a bit shocked at first, but after a few moments, he returns the gesture. His embrace is warm and welcoming, and you feel safe in his arms. You bury your head in his shoulder, only feeling slightly guilty about the tears you are surely getting on his shirt.

You eventually pull back from the embrace and look him in his eyes. "Thank you, Loki. Seriously. I never told this to anyone because I didn't want their pity. I didn't want to feel like I was the victim," you whisper the last word.

"I know exactly what you mean, Y/N. I loathe people's pity and sympathy for the pure reason that it makes me feel like I was a victim, like I wasn't strong enough to fight back. And the truth is," he trails off, looking down at his lap. "The truth is, I wasn't strong enough to fight back."

You see the glimmer of tears in his eyes, and your heart pangs with understanding. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, "fight back? Fight back against what?"

Loki sighs shakily, seeming deep in thought.

"Shoot, sorry, that was too personal again," you begin to apologise, but he only shakes his head in response.

"I suppose I owe you the truth, Y/N. The real truth."