Try To Find The Other End Of The Yarn

Loki never wanted anything to do with this. Not Thor, not his stupid Midgardian friends and not their broken little soldier. He could usually unfocus himself from these trips, let his consciousness slip away from himself while his body stayed upright, moving when he was moved and sitting silently when he wasn't. He tried, but he couldn't make himself now. He was tired and in pain and his wrists chafed against the cuffs he was stuck in, damming his magic and making sure he was helpless against whatever it was his jailers wanted from him. 

He’d only said it in the first place to antagonize Thor, get him to stop dragging him along to his little ‘Avengers hang outs’ the same way he dragged him to play with his friends on Asgard as children, like some transitive property of idiocy would make his friends Loki's too.

He was brought to stand in front of the Avengers, all sitting around an ugly, expensive living room, obviously no more pleased about his being there than he was. So he spent his first five minutes in the tower systematically using every piece of information he knew about anyone in the room to say whatever would make them want to punch him the fastest. It’s not like he actually wanted to get hurt, of course, but it would be worth it to not be there anymore.

“Not like your little soldier here is any better.” He’d sneered at the man, the thing posing as a whole man, not looking at him. “Are you sure it can even think? Or is it just standing there, waiting for orders like a puppet with its strings cut or a goddamn doll?”

He was so worked up, so busy pretending to be nonchalant and calm, he didn't notice the thing move. Not until it was coming towards him, all blank eyed and firm with massive shoulders and a piece of metal work for an arm that seems far too advanced to have ever come from such a rotten world. It disgusts him, the mockery this man had become. He held no real love for mortals, of course, but even he didn’t erase a person's soul when he took them over. Under the blue haze, it was still them, just more... suggestible. Obedient. 

The man in front of him, staring at him, had been erased and tortured and broken down and erased again so many times it didn’t surprise Loki at all that it still didn’t know who exactly it was. This soldier, who fought in a great war, then died and became another kind of soldier entirely, had so much damage done to its mind, he wasn’t sure if it ever would. 

Not even Loki had been broken down completely, regardless of the suffering he had been dealt in the Sanctuary. He had still held a glimpse of himself when he held the scepter. He must have, to have been found culpable for his crimes. 

He expected to be hit, throttled, thrown to the ground before anyone bothered to try and get the freak away from him, but it just stared. Rogers and Banner were calling for the soldier, trying to hold him back because they thought it was going to kill him. It just kept watching him, like it was waiting.

“What?” He hissed, just hoping to get this over with. “What do you want?”

The thing blinked, slowly, like it was taking its sweet time registering that he’d said at all. When it spoke, it wasn't the rough, low murmur he’d heard before, but something breathy and pitched up. 

“Do you want me to make you something?” 

For the first time in a very, very long time, Loki didn’t know what to say. Was this some kind of joke? A trap? He didn't think automatons had the brains required, but perhaps combat trained ones did.

"Are you messing with me?" He asked, incredulous, looking between the soldier and the Avengers, staring at him like he'd done something wrong. "This is some kind of Midgardian joke you expect me not to understand."

"Did I do something wrong?" The soldier was closer, wrapping its arms around Loki's neck, too close and too much, he didn't want to risk that metal arm anywhere near his throat. "Did you want me to change?"

“What is it doing?” Loki looked at Rogers, because wasn’t this thing supposed to be his friend? Shouldn’t he know what’s wrong with it?

“Brother, what have you done?” Thor stared at him, and he realized that they didn’t understand either. They thought he’d done this. 

“What could I have done?” he asked, glaring, “I have no scepter, my magic is being blocked by these accursed cuffs, and honestly, I don’t fucking care about your friends. Why would I do this at all,  let alone in the middle of a room full of people who hate me? Do I look like I have a death wish?”

“Considering all the shit you just spewed?” the spider looked at him, “It kinda seems like it.”

“Please, you wouldn’t have killed me over mere words,” He was pretty sure, anyway, “Once it got bad enough, Thor would bring me back to my cell to lecture me and make sure whoever it was that eventually cracked didn’t leave me brain damaged.”

For once, it seemed like honestly would be the best policy here, if it meant he didn’t get his fingers broken for his troubles. Even if Thor could never tell when he was lying, he could always tell when he told the truth. 

“Where’s the kitchen, Dear?” It asked, eyes boring into him, standing still in some imitation of an embrace, waiting for him to give it orders. "This place is much bigger than usual."

He looked around him, the people waiting for his reaction, for him to give an order, mess everything up, caring faces twisted and strained to be prepared when something went so so wrong. Loki rolled his eyes. Looks like he would have to figure this out on his own. 

“What do you call me?” He asked, looking the thing in its eyes, heavily lidded like it had been drugged. He said it with conviction. He wasn’t asking a question, but giving an order.

“Sweetheart, Dear, Honey, Husband,” it answered immediately and without shame. 

“And what are you?” he continued.

“Yours.”

Not what he needed, but a good look at where it’s head was at least. What it had been taught to say.

“What are you called?” He tried again, “What do you respond to?”

This answer took a few more seconds, another long, slow blink. 

“Wife, Darling, Sugar, Dolly.”

That was what he needed. He’d been told about the soldier, how it was conditioned and hurt and forced to not just play a role, but become it entirely. How it was given commands that would stick inside of it, under its conscious thought, so it could be controlled no matter who gave the orders. Whoever had given these commands hadn’t wanted a soldier, but a wife (or a soldier that acted like one, at least), and those commands had stuck.

“Very good, Darling,” He purred, allowing himself to smile. He didn’t want to know what happened when this Dolly was hurt or angry, it was best to placate it until they found a way to bring back the other soldier. “You’ve done very well.”

“I’m so glad,” it smiled, dull eyed and serene, leaning its head against his chest.

“Why don’t you find the kitchen, Dolly,” He offered, hoping the look he gave Rogers was enough for him to know what he was asking of him. “I need to speak with my friends here.”

That at least, seemed to make the soldier aware that it wasn’t just the two of them, that there were other people around. It turned looking over at the others in the room, surprised and perhaps embarrassed. Just as it took it a moment to speak, it took a few seconds for its ears and cheeks to redden, another show of just how slow this version of the soldier was. Like they wanted to make sure it was weak, susceptible. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” It looked back to him, red and flustered, “I didn’t even realize we had guests- I- I’m not even dressed-”

“It’s quite alright, Mam,” Rogers finally stepped up, getting the thing's attention and reaching out for it’s hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Steve, Steve Rogers.”

“You can call me Dolly,” It smiled, “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Of course,” Rogers held it’s hand, not quite pulling, but guiding the Soldier away. “Let me show you to the kitchen.”

“Thank you, sir,” It smiled, looking back to Loki for permission to leave, and softening when he nodded. “I don’t know why I’m so turned around right now-”

They waited for the two of them to leave the room, before there was a fist connecting with his face, too fast for him to dodge, sending him sprawling on the ground. He fucking hates Midgard. He waited for another blow to come, laying very still for a few moments before he pulled himself back up, glaring at whoever it was that decked him. 

“That’s for calling Nat a whore,” Hawkeye, Barton, who’d been so quiet so far, was standing above him. He had very mixed feelings about the hawk, if he was honest.

“Oh, I’m sure it was about more than that,” he’d smirked, completely unsurprised when Barton went for another swing.

“Just tell us what the fuck that was before we have to call SHIELD.” Barton crossed his arms, “Would hate to ask daddy dearest to add a couple more lifetimes to your sentence.”

“Like you would hold any sway over-” Loki muttered, rolling his eyes, but pulled himself up (with exactly zero help from Thor). “I’d think you would understand more than me. Despite what you may think, I’m not a tome of knowledge about every barbaric or esoteric form of torture possible. It was likely given these orders years ago and none of you talked to it enough to stumble upon one of the commands.”

“If he had other roles programed into him beside just the asset,” Banner was mumbling, turned toward Stark and the falcon, “With how his treatment was been going-”

“We were focusing on breaking down those walls between the soldier and Barnes,” the falcon agreed, “we could have been knocking down the boundaries for any other roles too.”

“Suppose it’d be too much to hope Stepford over there is the only rogue Barnes we have to worry about?” Stark looked so... not overwhelmed, but tired.

“There’s no way to be sure how many-” Banner stuttered, bringing his hand to his eyes, “how many of these personalities there are. If they’re separate personalities at all.”

Honestly, Loki would have preferred staying in his cell.

*

Loki was still in the tower, sitting on the couch while Stark, Banner and Sam (the falcon’s actual name) plan among themselves, Barton and the spider communicate almost entirely in eyebrow raises and quick looks and Thor goes off to find out what Rogers and the soldier are doing. If he could, he would be back in Asgard already, but apparently he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to see what would happen if this new personality became confused or frightened, something very likely if it thought its ‘husband’ went missing.

They’re lucky, apparently, that whoever programmed this role into the soldier never gave it a set husband to imprint on. Either he was cocky, and figured no one else would ever know or (the thought made Loki a  bit sick), the soldier was purposely programmed to go with whoever woke it because it was made to be passed around. Loki had done many things in his life, many of which he had no remorse for, but he’d never bedded an unwilling partner. Controlled did not mean willing. 

Soon, Rogers brings the soldier, Dolly, rather, back into the room, freshly changed and smiling. It was an obvious rush job, Loki isn’t sure exactly where they would have gotten them, but Dolly was wearing a nice, white blouse and long blue skirt, big enough to cover it up conservatively, but visibly too tight on it’s shoulders. It was carrying a tray full of small snacks, tea cakes and simple baked goods, while Rogers and Thor carried two pitchers and a few stacked cups behind it. 

“I’m so sorry if I made you wait,” It said, placing down the tray on the table and looking up at him, hands placed demurely at its waist. “I simply couldn’t find anything to wear. Mr. Rogers has been so kind to show me around and help me in the kitchen.”

“No apology needed, Sweetheart,” Loki gave it a smile. It was responding and speaking a bit faster now, so perhaps it just needed a moment to process what it was. “What have you made for us?”

“Oh, yes,” Dolly perked up, pointing to the different foods, “Well, I didn’t know if you’d already eaten and I didn’t want to take too long, so I put together some tea sandwiches- these are tomato, these are goat cheese and pecan, these are cucumber and oh these are grilled pimento cheese! Then these are tea cakes, some muffins, left is blueberry, right is poppy seed, and for drinks I made sweet tea and lemonade!”

As it spoke, its voice gained a peculiar lilt to it, a drawl so familiar, but out of Loki’s grasp. It looked up to him, plainly seeking approval, and he gave it. He wouldn’t turn down a free snack.

“Just lovely, Dolly,” He came to sit at the table, beckoning it to do the same. He was expecting it to sit across from him, or maybe beside him, not come around the table and plant itself in his lap. Whoever had programmed the soldier hadn’t made it aware of its own weight apparently, because godly strength or not, getting a sudden near three hundred pound weight dropped on your thighs is hardly pleasant. It kissed his cheek and Loki could just feel the anger and worry radiating off of everyone else in the room. 

“I’m so glad you’re home, dear,” It held onto him, placing its head on his shoulder and wrapping its arms around him. “I feel like I’ve been asleep for so long.”

Banner and Sam were whispering to each other again, and Barton and the spider had blank, careful faces that he just knew meant they were nervous and uneasy. Rogers, Loki will give him, was taking this as well as he could, on the surface at least. He smiled and acted courteously, speaking with Dolly kindly and carefully. Loki took it all in carefully as he ate an admittedly very good cucumber sandwich.

It took a long, long time of observing and carefully answering and pretending his skin didn’t crawl whenever Dolly kissed him or held him too tightly, but eventually the sky outside the tower windows darkened and it yawned and whispered to Loki that it’s about time for it to be going to bed. It said it suggestively, very obviously implying that he should follow it to whatever room they set up for Dolly, and it made him sick to his stomach. Still, he smiled and told it to go on without him, that he needed to finish speaking with his ‘friends’ before going to bed.

Once he was sure it was out of hearing range, he stood, grabbed Thor’s hand and pulled him to his feet (away from the remnants of the tea cakes). 

“Thor, we are going back to Asgard now. ” He said it seriously, looking his brother in the eyes, trying to leave no room for argument. 

“Brother, we can’t simply-”

“No can do, golden calf,” Stark interrupted, infuriatingly, “You’re staying right here until Barnes is back to his quiet antisocial self.”

“You’re all big strong heroes, aren't you?” Loki sneered, looking back at them, “You can handle one housewife on your own.”

“Not a super serum’ed housewife with combat training,” he said, “trust me, none of us fucking like it, but we need you here in case she freaks out.”

“Here for what, Stark? To say the same brain dead affirmations every ten seconds? Let it crawl on my lap and kiss me?” Loki snapped, “Or perhaps you don’t see the problem with sending me up to bed with a broken machine that thinks it wants to fuck me? ”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Rogers stood, looking very much like he wanted to punch Loki out.

“Like what? You seem to think I have some stake in that thing’s well being, but I don’t. ” He pointed out to the hall Dolly had gone down. “Once I’m gone, I don't care if it wakes up and bakes brownies or kills you all. It would serve you right for bringing it into your home in the first place! If it were up to me, the soldier would have been put out of its misery the moment you found it.”

“Loki, that’s enough!” Thor tried to hold him back, but he just kept going, far too angry to listen.

“I’ve seen the way you coddle it, telling touching stories about its past and bringing it food and medication and new clothes, but what has it helped?” Loki looked Rogers in the eyes, “You tried your best, and you could keep trying until you die, but all the love and care in the world won’t heal someone. The friend you knew is gone and if there's any shred of him left in that thing, I’m sure he wishes you had killed him when you had the chance!”

They were all quiet for a long, long moment, and Loki was seething in both newly flared anger, and the deep discomfort he’d been pushing down since he got there. He hated letting himself get like this, but it was just too much. He couldn’t be here anymore.

Rogers turned away from him, so full of anger and pain, and walked away. 

*

“Sweet tea,” The man whispers into the asset’s ear once they're safely alone. 

It had been going through its usual post-mission maintenance, cleaning the dirt and grime from the plates on its arm and wiping away any traces of himself from his weapons. Now, it stood straight up, a haze moving over its vision. 

What was it doing? maintenance... Cleaning?

She should be cleaning. 

Dolly looked around herself, taking in the unfamiliar room. She always woke up in strange rooms, it was quite normal for her! Her husband is so nice to take her to so many new places. With all he’s done for her, the least she can do is keep the room clean. 

“Sweetheart,” She crooned, reaching out to touch her husband’s face. The fact that he was shorter than her didn’t seem to register in her mind. To Dolly, he was always her big, strong, husband. “Let me clean up in here, the place is a sty. I’ll make you dinner after, I promise.”

*

They put him in a makeshift prison cell, which really meant a guest room with extra protection on the window and door via the voice. Loki wasn’t exactly happy about it, but at least he didn’t have to share a bed with the soldier. The voice didn’t speak to him, and he didn’t get any visitors until the next afternoon, to bring him food, so Loki sat in silence, letting his mind fade to static and the world become unfocused. He’s more than used to solitary confinement. It was another whole day and night before he spoke to another person.

“Look alive, creep,” Stark came into his cell with no warning, “the ol’ ball and chain wants to see  you.”

“It’s polite to knock,” He said automatically, instead of answering, “What if you’d caught me changing?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities, ” Stark rolled his eyes. 

Loki went with him anyway, even though the last thing he wanted was to have to touch the soldier again. The feeling of metal around his throat, like a living collar, chaining him down. The thing doesn’t even know how much it’s been tampered with, how badly it’s been damaged. It disgusts him beyond words.

They went back down to the same living room (and Loki just hates the decor) and Thor stood when he walked into the room, but there was no Dolly. Instead, the soldier was sitting on the couch, carefully angled away from the others, and watching him through the hair in front of its face. So, a few nights sleep did it well. 

Banner and Sam stepped up to speak, both carrying clipboards and papers no doubt full of all the research they’d stayed up all night on and the questions they had bombarded the soldier with the minute it woke, but it’s the soldier who speaks first. 

"Thanks, I guess." It looked away from Loki, eyes darting anywhere but him.

"For what?" 

The soldier didn't speak anymore, just shifted further away on the couch. Rogers kept watching him, daring him to say something. 

Banner stood, when it was clear the soldier wouldn’t speak any more, and started to explain he and the falcon’s little pet theories and discoveries about the soldier’s mind- that in their attempts to break down mental blocks between the soldier and Barnes, they had been breaking barriers between the other mental states/roles/personalities as well. Apparently they had been trying to help it regain it’s memories that way, regardless of the threat of it becoming catatonic from the overwhelming memories of eighty years of torture, abuse and deeply ingrained mental damage. Midgardians weren’t meant to hold all of that at once, he knew that at least. How they hadn’t fucked up before now was beyond Loki entirely.

They’re lucky the soldier’s super serum was holding its body together as well as it was so long, because if its brain started to deteriorate physically at all, it would be over for them. The soldier had hazy memories of being Dolly the other day, but couldn’t consciously recall being her before. The mental walls blocking her off from him were cracking, but they were still holding. 

They have no idea what other personalities there might be, how long they had been there, who put them there, and for what reasons.

Loki still didn’t understand why he had to be there, and at that point the group was talking more amongst themselves than at him. It took another ten minutes of being completely ignored before he cleared his throat to get literally anyone's attention. 

"Is there a reason I have to be here for this?" He asked, "Don't suppose you were going to treat me to breakfast before I left?"

"I'm afraid we won't be going home anytime soon." Thor finally spoke, looking both wildly awkward and resolute in his apparent decision. 

"Pardon me, what? "

"I know it's soon, but my comrades and I have discussed a way for you to lighten your sentence," Thor explained like he’s trying to talk down a rabid dog. "If you help us to help Bucky, it can convince our father to-"

" No. I refuse to do this again." Loki sneers. "Call a healer or a therapist or- or- a priest or something. There's nothing I can do here."

“You can go into my mind.”

The soldier was looking at him, its eyes flat and focused on the space just above his eyes. 

“You controlled people before, went into their minds. If you can do the same here, you can figure out what all is wrong inside of me faster and less painful than any therapist.” It shrugged, looking at Rogers. The Captain didn’t look any happier about this than Loki himself. “It’s in everyone’s best interest that this gets solved fast.”

“You said before, no amount of love and care can heal someone,” Rogers said, looking him dead in the eyes. “Maybe you were right. But if there’s anything that can heal him, I’m willing to try.”

“Like I said, Reindeer game, no one’s exactly happy about this,” Stark popped in, then stopped nodding to Thor, “Except your brother, I guess. But this is a really simple you scratch our backs, we scratch yours kinda situation. You help us figure out Sybil’s deal, we tell your dad you’ve changed and you should get off early for good behavior. That’s way more than you deserve.”

“I hope Miss Potts is the one who does your business negotiations.” Loki frowned. 

“Brother, please, just consider-” Thor was wheedling at him, stepping toward Loki, then back again when Loki glared at him. 

He didn’t want to do this. He hadn’t wanted to come see the Avengers in the first place, and the only reason he hadn’t left on his own was because he literally, physically couldn’t. Norns forbid he was allowed any agency, any choice in how he is to spend his punishment. No, he must be dragged about the nine realms by his stupid oaf of a- well. Thor. paraded in front of his friends the same way he had been as a child, only this time he was far less able to fight back. 

He was surrounded on all sides by people who hate him. People who want to use him. He should be used to that by now, honestly. 

“Damn you, Thor.” He hissed under his breath. He had no chance of getting out of this. “You know I have no choice. My hands are literally tied.”

The hurt on his face was transparent and only gave Loki the barest amount of satisfaction, the realization that he had forced Loki into a corner. He wanted to relish in that small win, but Stark was clapping him harshly on the back. 

“Welcome to the team, Frosty.”