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[FIC] TWO STEP, or: how thor came to be where he belonged.
If Thor had to attribute his downfall to anyone? It would, strangely enough, be the man who looked more like a boy.
He'd been wiping the resistance force out easily, sweeping through their base, until he turned a corner and found him standing tall. He was a head shorter than Thor and looked like he'd snap with a strong breeze, but his chest was puffed out and he met Thor's gaze without fear though he had no visible weapon on him, stood tall though he barely blocked the hallway.
"Move aside," Thor said. Resistance or not, he would not get away with a clean conscience if he injured an unarmed man. But his foe simply squared his shoulders, made himself as tall as he could be.
"Why don't you just go through me?" It was a taunt, a barb, and Thor's lips twisted in a scowl. His grip tightened on Mjolnir's haft but he didn't move, didn't allow himself to rise to the bait. Not yet.
"I do not wish to harm someone who is unarmed."
"Those men and women may as well have been unarmed compared to you, and you know it." The man's fists clenched by his sides, an anger seeping into his tone that surprised the commando.
"They brought this fight onto themselves for defying the Institution."
"Then take me down, because I'm part of this and I'm not moving." He slid into a fighting stance that, despite his appearance, was definitely professionally-taught - it was perfect, feet set apart and hands raised in preparation for the first blow, and Thor found himself simultaneously confused, irritated and... perhaps a little impressed at the other's bravery.
"I won't tell you again: move."
"And I already told you I'm not going to." He set his jaw, staring at Thor with determined blue eyes, body tense. "The Institution is nothing but a bunch of warmongerers churning out more like you. It's probably not your fault, from what I saw back then, but your actions still can't be excused."
That threw Thor for a loop, brows furrowing. "What? What do you - "
He hadn't noticed the way the man's eyes flickered over his shoulder. There was just a sudden "Now!" And Thor was whirling around, too slow to avoid the arrow that landed at his feet, releasing a gas he caught a lungful of before he could block his mouth and nose. The world tilted dizzily and he crashed to the ground, suddenly feeling heavy and lethargic, like a leaden idol being called to sleep. His eyes fluttered, but he watched the man come back from where he'd rolled away to avoid the gas. Another man - taller, built, carrying a bow - rounded around to join him. They stared down at him, and Thor willed his defiance to show even as his eyes slipped closed and he fell into a deep slumber unlike anything he'd found before.
---
Thor refused to say a word, stiffening his jaw and merely glaring at the interrogators who came to see him, question him. They didn't torture him, at least not by striking him; no one laid a hand upon him, though he knew that, as they stormed out of the room, a few of them had wanted to. No, he was kept bound in a chair that resisted every effort he made to escape, forced to sleep upright, forced to humiliate himself by asking for assistance when he needed to use the facilities.
The worst of it was the lack of food and water.
His body felt like it was eating itself by what he guessed was the second week - time passed strangely in the white room - and he thought that even if he had wanted to speak he wouldn't have been able to, throat dry as parchment. He slumped in his chair, lacking the strength or energy to keep himself upright; he couldn't even generate the tiniest of sparks as he was now. And still he refused to give anything to his captors, simply glaring at them through a curtain of greasy blond hair. He would die before he let himself be a traitor.
He had been dozing when the door opened again, eyes fluttering weakly at the sound before he forced them open, forced himself to focus. He sat as straight as he could, back and body complaining at the movement, unwilling to show any more weakness to those who held him.
He wasn't expecting the smell of food to hit his nose, head whipping to the source. He felt starving and nauseous all at once, swallowing hard against the gagging feeling and coughing for the effort; then there was a hand grasping his chin, a cup pressed to his mouth.
"Here."
It was the man from before, the one who had stood against him. There was clear concern on his face as he held the cup to Thor's mouth, tilting it so he could drink, and Thor found himself leaning into it and trying to swallow greedily before he could think to reject it in case of poison. The man tightened his grip, held the cup back so Thor couldn't swallow too fast.
"Easy. You're going to make yourself sick." His voice was low, soothing, and he moderated Thor's intake as he looked elsewhere. "Jesus, Clint."
"I know." That was a new voice, unfamiliar, and it had Thor tensing and remembering himself. He pulled away, gasping and coughing. He snarled when the smaller man tried to get close again, a spark of dark satisfaction working in him when the other stepped back, wary. Then there was a hand on his shoulder and he turned, looking into the eyes of the archer who stared impassively back down at him. "Relax, big guy. We're just trying to make sure you don't starve."
"I do not need your pity." Thor could hardly recognize his own voice, rough and scratchy with disuse and dehydration, but he pushed as much anger and defiance into it as he could manage. "I will not yield to you!"
"We kind of got that message, yeah." This time it was the smaller man who spoke, a wry smile curling his mouth. It dropped quickly, the concern coming back. "But you need to eat and drink something or you'll die."
"And what concern of that is yours, other than the information I take to my grave?" He glared at them both, sitting straight despite his aching, malnourished body, tilting his head in pride and arrogance. "I know the game you play. The others wear me down with cruelty before you come in and win my favor with kindness. I will not be tricked. You'll get nothing from me."
"Actually, we're here against orders." The archer - Clint, Thor remembered - only shrugged a little at Thor's wary stare.
"You would defy your superior for the sake of an enemy?"
"Did it for Natasha. Steve, too."
He couldn't help the surprise, words clicking in his head as he observed the smaller man - Steven - who looked sheepish and shrugged as well. "You betrayed the Institution."
"They left me to die."
"Every man and woman must be ready to die for - "
"You don't understand." Steven's voice was quiet, but it commanded attention in a way Thor couldn't deny, mouth shutting against his own will. His expression was solemn, difficult to read, fingers wrapped around the cup of water as he continued. "If it had been in the line of battle? I would've understood. It's like you said, every man and woman was ready to die for the cause. But they... that wasn't what happened." Thor watched his grip tighten, pain etching itself into his eyes, the lines of his face. "I was a normal man before. Then they tested on me. I admit, I went willingly, but they told me there wasn't anything to worry about. It was Erksine's formula, it had churned out a squad of super soldiers before me."
"The Norse Corps." He wasn't aware of speaking until the words hit his ears. Steven simply looked at him, knowing in his eyes.
"You and the Norse Corps."
The silence that followed was heavy, tense, and Thor found it difficult to keep his eyes on Steven. He seemed lost in thought before he cleared his throat, continued.
"They didn't tell me that Erksine had fled and taken his data with him. Didn't tell me that the formula they were using on me was an experimental attempt to recreate it from scratch. They lied to me, and I was too loyal to the cause to think twice. It failed, turned me into... this." Steven motioned to himself, sweeping an arm down his person, grimacing like his own body shamed him. Thor couldn't look at him then, eyes going to the tiled floor beneath his feet. "They dumped me out in a frozen wasteland, where I would die from hypothermia and my body would never be found. Except someone did find me."
Thor's eyes moved over his shoulder, up to Clint. The archer was staring at the wall, jaw tight and arms folded over his chest as if to prevent himself from reacting. His attention went back to Steven, who gave him a weary smile.
"I was lucky. And I'm not the first victim either. There've been... others, who've suffered in so many different ways, and not just in an attempt to reclaim what Erksine took with him. It's hard to see when you're with them, because they don't want you seeing those things. They know soldiers follow more loyally through faith than fear." He moved toward Thor again, cautiously; Thor found himself allowing it, though he should have snapped at him again. This man was a traitor, a betrayer of the Institution that kept them safe. Yet there was no malicious intent to him, no signs that he was lying, deceiving Thor intentionally. Steven reached out, grasping his chin again, putting the cup to his lips once more. Thor drank without pause. "I don't think you're a bad guy, just... blind. Like I was. And Clint happens to agree."
There were no more words as they helped Thor to eat and drink, moderating the pace so he wouldn't get sick and helping him through the nausea and spasms when he did, fingers holding back his hair and a hand on his back as his body rejected what it'd taken in. There were no words when they left, only a short nod from Clint and a small smile from Steven before the door closed behind their backs, leaving Thor in the silence to consider it all.
---
Eventually he was released. Not freed, but allowed reprieve from the chair and the thrice-damned holding room, and for all his strength Thor could have wept for joy. He hadn't realized how much the situation was wearing on him until he was released from it. He was allowed some roaming room, though nowhere where he could glean information to take back to the Institution, and he was never unattended - even when he took his shower he was guarded, which didn't faze him much as he recalled the group showers in the earlier days of his service. His hands were to always be bound, which kept the marks on his wrists from healing properly, and Mjolnir was locked away somewhere, but Thor couldn't complain. At least he could walk and sleep in a bed, even if it was a cot. It was miles above the uneasy rest in the chair of that room.
He was accompanied by highly accomplished agents, ones who would stare ahead and say nothing to him, and Thor didn't mind. He had nothing to say to them either. Some of the faces he recognized from his initial rampage through the compound, if barely. At rare times he was allowed the company of Steven, flanked by Clint who kept his bow on his back and stayed quiet as they conversed.
It was Steven who informed him he'd been kept captive a little over two months before Fury had agreed to let him out on 'good behavior'.
Steven kept the conversation casual, not prying for information, speaking to Thor as if he was an old friend and not a prisoner of war. Like he didn't have cuffs on his wrist, like Thor wasn't staring at him like he'd grown a second head as he slowly answered. The third time the two guarded him Clint joined the conversation, adding a note of humor that reminded Thor of Fandral.
"I need to go back." It was a sudden burst from him that had Steven and Clint quieting, glancing uneasily between each other.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Clint said slowly, though Thor knew what he actually meant: We can't do that. And what sense would it make to let an enemy return to the other side after seeing a place like this, with potential information to give?
"If what you say is true about the Institution, I need to make certain my allies are all right." He had told Loki the truth of his intent when he left to storm the resistance base, but if the message had somehow not been received then there was the possibility the Corps had been punished for his perceived betrayal, and Thor couldn't stand the thought. He lowered his head, stared at his shackled hands as he drew in a breath, willed his pride not to interfere for what he was to do next. They were the enemy, but they had been nothing but kind to him these past weeks, something like friends when they had no reason to be. He dropped his voice, forced the word out when every instinct said he should be ashamed for even thinking of this: "Please."
Clint and Steven were quiet, looking at each other again. Their conversation was a silent one, nothing but looks and body language to form words, before Clint let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
"This is going to be tricky," he muttered, and Thor brightened like he hadn't since his arrival here. Steven's smile answered it, a hand resting over one of Thor's.
"We'll work it out somehow."
"Thank you." And it was the most sincere he'd ever been, saying those two words.
---
They had to recruit another for the job, a Natasha Romanoff who frowned deeply at Clint but relented, helping to sabotage the cameras so Steven and Clint wouldn't be caught smuggling Thor out in the dead of night. They took a van to the nearest Institution checkpoint, Clint driving as Steven stayed in the back with Thor, undoing the shackles around his wrists and frowning at the dark marks that were there. Even the lightest touch of fingertips had Thor hissing, teeth grinding.
"Those are going to scar, even with your healing." Steven's voice was hushed, obvious guilt in the words. Thor managed a smile for him, careful to avoid knocking his wrists against anything as he folded his hands in his lap.
"I have suffered worse."
Clint stopped at a halfway point, not willing to risk getting any closer to the enemy. He let Thor out, showing no fear despite the fact that Thor was returning to the opposing force, that his hands were free and Mjolnir was hanging from his belt, and Thor couldn't identify just what the realization caused him to feel. He shook it off, clapped Steven and Clint on the shoulders and watched them drive off until he couldn't see the van, making sure they were away safely before trudging toward the checkpoint.
Booming thunder announced his presence, and the watchmen at the gates cursed in shock when they realized who was approaching.
He was rushed inside, taken to the bowels of the fortress, a place he'd never seen before. All he wanted was to get information on the Corps but he should have expected it wouldn't be that simple; he'd been gone for months, after all. He was taken into a wide, spacious room, thrust before projections of the council, a force he'd only heard whispers of before. More surprising were the projections of Odin and Loki that accompanied them. Their expressions gave nothing away and Thor felt something twist uneasily in his stomach.
Still he fell to one knee, bowing his head before them all. It was familiar, comfortable almost, despite the reminders of the stories Clint and Steven had told him.
"Rise," said a deep voice he did not recognize, and he followed, standing at attention before them all. The council was comprised of three members, their faces as unyielding as Loki and Odin's - one was a woman, with skin as pale as porcelain and jet black hair that fell over her shoulders, her eyes like ice as she stared at Thor. Another was a man, with dark skin like Heimdall's and close-shaven hair, a long scar winding down the right side of his face and eyes of jade. The last was androgynous, of a gender Thor could not determine, eyes narrow and dark and face framed by hair the color of flame. They all exuded a power even when they weren't there physically that made Thor swallow uneasily, made his hands clench into fists at his side.
The woman spoke first. "You have been away for a long time, 7C-1."
Thor nearly flinched at the use of his ID code, unused to hearing it now. "I was captured, a prisoner of the resistance."
The androgynous one scoffed. "'Captured'? And just how did they manage to capture a man who is one of our most lauded soldiers?"
Thor grit his teeth against the jab, forcing his voice to be smooth. "Their forces are stronger than expected."
"Are they?" The woman leaned forward, tapping dark nails against her lower lip, a thin brow rising. "You look... remarkably well for a prisoner newly escaped."
"Do you doubt what I say?"
"Your comrade 7C-2 tells us differently," spoke the man, and Thor froze, staring at the Mischief Maker. Loki didn't show anything, stared evenly back at Thor, waiting for the man to wave a hand to him before he launched into his speech.
"It's terrible, really. I should have spoken sooner, but..." He gave the council members a guilty, shamed look, before his eyes went back to the dumbstruck commando in the center of the room. "Thor was a trusted ally, and a dear friend. It was... difficult to believe when he told me he was leaving to join the resistance, asked that I come with him. Harder still to confess to the knowledge, even when I knew it was for his own good, and for the good of the Institution."
Thor found his voice then, rage causing it to boom, echo off the walls. Distantly he could hear the responding clap of thunder through the thick walls. "You lie! I left to crush the resistance, I told you that! Why are you saying these things?!"
"So you fought them, were captured, and escaped... with only wrist burns to show for your stay?" Loki arched a brow delicately, his expression one of pity. Anger, hurt and confusion were intertwined in Thor's mind, and he didn't know which to focus on, to act on. Loki merely shook his head, continued, sweeping his hand to Thor as his attention turned to the three council members. "Thor is, if nothing else, an incredibly capable warrior. We all know this. Odin and I have seen this first hand in all the battles we've shared with him. For him to be captured... while it's certainly not impossible - well. We see his condition. It doesn't seem they've been all that unkind to him, for a prisoner."
Loki finished his part, steepling long fingers, flashing the council a wry smile. The silence in the room was almost thick enough to feel as Thor stared at them all, trying to comprehend what had just happened, the betrayal he'd been given by one of his own. The council members turned simultaneously to Odin.
"What say you, 7A?"
"Odin, please - "
The woman's voice was like a cracked whip, and Thor physically flinched from the verbal blow. "Silence, 7C-1. You will speak when spoken to."
Odin didn't speak, not immediately, deliberating the situation and his response. All eyes were on him, waiting for his verdict. Thor wanted to speak, to yell, scream, smash something, anything to break the maddening silence that filled the room because he couldn't stand it when he knew his life was on the line.
Finally, Odin raised his head. He did not look at Thor as he let the hammer fall. "Thor has always been... impulsive, so it is easy to believe he could have gone with the intention of wiping out our foe. But to come back in such a condition - he may have been led astray."
The council members nodded all at once, and there was barely time for Thor to breathe before there were guards on him, grabbing his arms, taking Mjolnir away. Thor didn't struggle, didn't fight, couldn't find the strength in himself to, because Odin was right. He had been led astray, had let it happen. He allowed himself to be dragged away though he could have easily thrown his captors aside, the last things he saw before the doors closed being Odin's faint disappointment and Loki's cruel smirk.
---
The Institution was not as kind in its torture as the resistance had been. He was locked in the lowest parts of the fortress, no light but a dying bulb in his cell and the ones in the hallway, the air filled with the stench of sweat, rot and decay. He could hear screams echoing from somewhere, all through the day and night, could sometimes see the gibbering faces of other prisoners through the small glass window in the steel door.
He was beaten to his limits, bruised black and blue with all the force the guards could muster because they knew less wouldn't make a lasting impression. They pulled him by the hair, forced him to kneel as hit him with fists and clubs, hit him in one spot until something gave and he was howling in agony, the sound echoing in the small cell. They wanted information that Thor didn't have to give, but they didn't believe him, and so they left him limp on the dirty rock floor each night, in too much pain to move to the threadbare cot. He was fed just enough to survive, given just enough time to recover so that the next round of beatings hurt worse than the one before.
He missed Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun and Sif, wondered if Loki had told them the lies he'd told the council, wondered if they thought him a traitor just as Odin did. He missed the compound, spartan and yet so much more inviting than the barracks had ever been. He missed Steven and his spirit, so much bigger than his body, and he missed Clint and his calming presence.
He didn't know where he belonged, where he wanted to be, and that was, perhaps, the worst part of it all.
He couldn't find the will to move when the alarms started, his head swimming from the last assault. Could only stare at his door as he lay on the cool stone and wonder what was going on outside. There was noise, too much noise for his pounding head as the door was ripped free from the wall, and the last thing Thor saw before the darkness was green, red and gold.
---
He woke to light, hissing in pain and throwing an arm over his eyes. His body was aching, sore, but it was the lingering pain of recovered injuries instead of the lancing agony of fresh ones. Everything was blissfully silent even if it was too damn bright, the air was clear to breathe, there was a mattress under his body instead of a hard floor.
And then there was a touch on his arm, light, cautious. "Thor?"
Steven's voice. Thor felt the inexplicable urge to sob, suddenly weary from everything he'd gone through, feeling so much smaller than he actually was. He was shaking, didn't realize it until Steven carefully lifted his arm up, maneuvered himself so he blocked the light above. There was nothing but concern on his face, small hands resting on Thor's biceps as he stood above him.
"It's okay," was all he said. "You're safe now."
A choked sound rose from Thor's throat, and he found himself crying for the first time since he could remember.
---
They didn't put the cuffs on him this time. Clint and Steven stayed with him almost all the time, helping Thor recover from his ordeal with their presence, their friendliness. He was given a proper room in the compound and he slept with the light on, because waking to darkness would send him into a panicked fury and the last time it had happened Clint had to use several tranq arrows on him to get him to stop.
He met Natasha properly, her resemblance to Sif in demeanor and skill causing him more pain than he expected. He met Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, two more escapees from the Institution and his saviors, finding himself amused by the way they could go back and forth with each other like no one else in the world existed. He got to know more of the agents, like the curt Hill and the mild-mannered Coulson. He saw everything with new eyes and made his decision.
It was Coulson who heard it first. "I would speak with your superior."
"I was wondering when you'd say that," had been Coulson's response, before he'd led him into the center of the compound.
The voice behind the resistance went by the name of Nick Fury, and he was awe-inspiring in his very presence. His stare was piercing, taking Thor apart piece by piece as he stood before Fury, as he kneeled to him.
"I would pledge my loyalty - "
"Get up," Fury interrupted, exasperated. "None of that shit. No poetics either. Just say it."
Thor stood, more than a little embarrassed, cleared his throat and started again. "I wish to join the resistance."
Fury smirked, like a man who'd gotten everything he'd been expecting, and Thor felt like this was a long time coming somehow. "Very good. Welcome to the resistance, Thor." He turned away, waced a hand to Coulson. The agent led him out, Fury's words trailing after them: "Welcome to SHIELD."
it's not the long walk home that will change this heart,
but the welcome i receive with the restart.
He'd been wiping the resistance force out easily, sweeping through their base, until he turned a corner and found him standing tall. He was a head shorter than Thor and looked like he'd snap with a strong breeze, but his chest was puffed out and he met Thor's gaze without fear though he had no visible weapon on him, stood tall though he barely blocked the hallway.
"Move aside," Thor said. Resistance or not, he would not get away with a clean conscience if he injured an unarmed man. But his foe simply squared his shoulders, made himself as tall as he could be.
"Why don't you just go through me?" It was a taunt, a barb, and Thor's lips twisted in a scowl. His grip tightened on Mjolnir's haft but he didn't move, didn't allow himself to rise to the bait. Not yet.
"I do not wish to harm someone who is unarmed."
"Those men and women may as well have been unarmed compared to you, and you know it." The man's fists clenched by his sides, an anger seeping into his tone that surprised the commando.
"They brought this fight onto themselves for defying the Institution."
"Then take me down, because I'm part of this and I'm not moving." He slid into a fighting stance that, despite his appearance, was definitely professionally-taught - it was perfect, feet set apart and hands raised in preparation for the first blow, and Thor found himself simultaneously confused, irritated and... perhaps a little impressed at the other's bravery.
"I won't tell you again: move."
"And I already told you I'm not going to." He set his jaw, staring at Thor with determined blue eyes, body tense. "The Institution is nothing but a bunch of warmongerers churning out more like you. It's probably not your fault, from what I saw back then, but your actions still can't be excused."
That threw Thor for a loop, brows furrowing. "What? What do you - "
He hadn't noticed the way the man's eyes flickered over his shoulder. There was just a sudden "Now!" And Thor was whirling around, too slow to avoid the arrow that landed at his feet, releasing a gas he caught a lungful of before he could block his mouth and nose. The world tilted dizzily and he crashed to the ground, suddenly feeling heavy and lethargic, like a leaden idol being called to sleep. His eyes fluttered, but he watched the man come back from where he'd rolled away to avoid the gas. Another man - taller, built, carrying a bow - rounded around to join him. They stared down at him, and Thor willed his defiance to show even as his eyes slipped closed and he fell into a deep slumber unlike anything he'd found before.
Thor refused to say a word, stiffening his jaw and merely glaring at the interrogators who came to see him, question him. They didn't torture him, at least not by striking him; no one laid a hand upon him, though he knew that, as they stormed out of the room, a few of them had wanted to. No, he was kept bound in a chair that resisted every effort he made to escape, forced to sleep upright, forced to humiliate himself by asking for assistance when he needed to use the facilities.
The worst of it was the lack of food and water.
His body felt like it was eating itself by what he guessed was the second week - time passed strangely in the white room - and he thought that even if he had wanted to speak he wouldn't have been able to, throat dry as parchment. He slumped in his chair, lacking the strength or energy to keep himself upright; he couldn't even generate the tiniest of sparks as he was now. And still he refused to give anything to his captors, simply glaring at them through a curtain of greasy blond hair. He would die before he let himself be a traitor.
He had been dozing when the door opened again, eyes fluttering weakly at the sound before he forced them open, forced himself to focus. He sat as straight as he could, back and body complaining at the movement, unwilling to show any more weakness to those who held him.
He wasn't expecting the smell of food to hit his nose, head whipping to the source. He felt starving and nauseous all at once, swallowing hard against the gagging feeling and coughing for the effort; then there was a hand grasping his chin, a cup pressed to his mouth.
"Here."
It was the man from before, the one who had stood against him. There was clear concern on his face as he held the cup to Thor's mouth, tilting it so he could drink, and Thor found himself leaning into it and trying to swallow greedily before he could think to reject it in case of poison. The man tightened his grip, held the cup back so Thor couldn't swallow too fast.
"Easy. You're going to make yourself sick." His voice was low, soothing, and he moderated Thor's intake as he looked elsewhere. "Jesus, Clint."
"I know." That was a new voice, unfamiliar, and it had Thor tensing and remembering himself. He pulled away, gasping and coughing. He snarled when the smaller man tried to get close again, a spark of dark satisfaction working in him when the other stepped back, wary. Then there was a hand on his shoulder and he turned, looking into the eyes of the archer who stared impassively back down at him. "Relax, big guy. We're just trying to make sure you don't starve."
"I do not need your pity." Thor could hardly recognize his own voice, rough and scratchy with disuse and dehydration, but he pushed as much anger and defiance into it as he could manage. "I will not yield to you!"
"We kind of got that message, yeah." This time it was the smaller man who spoke, a wry smile curling his mouth. It dropped quickly, the concern coming back. "But you need to eat and drink something or you'll die."
"And what concern of that is yours, other than the information I take to my grave?" He glared at them both, sitting straight despite his aching, malnourished body, tilting his head in pride and arrogance. "I know the game you play. The others wear me down with cruelty before you come in and win my favor with kindness. I will not be tricked. You'll get nothing from me."
"Actually, we're here against orders." The archer - Clint, Thor remembered - only shrugged a little at Thor's wary stare.
"You would defy your superior for the sake of an enemy?"
"Did it for Natasha. Steve, too."
He couldn't help the surprise, words clicking in his head as he observed the smaller man - Steven - who looked sheepish and shrugged as well. "You betrayed the Institution."
"They left me to die."
"Every man and woman must be ready to die for - "
"You don't understand." Steven's voice was quiet, but it commanded attention in a way Thor couldn't deny, mouth shutting against his own will. His expression was solemn, difficult to read, fingers wrapped around the cup of water as he continued. "If it had been in the line of battle? I would've understood. It's like you said, every man and woman was ready to die for the cause. But they... that wasn't what happened." Thor watched his grip tighten, pain etching itself into his eyes, the lines of his face. "I was a normal man before. Then they tested on me. I admit, I went willingly, but they told me there wasn't anything to worry about. It was Erksine's formula, it had churned out a squad of super soldiers before me."
"The Norse Corps." He wasn't aware of speaking until the words hit his ears. Steven simply looked at him, knowing in his eyes.
"You and the Norse Corps."
The silence that followed was heavy, tense, and Thor found it difficult to keep his eyes on Steven. He seemed lost in thought before he cleared his throat, continued.
"They didn't tell me that Erksine had fled and taken his data with him. Didn't tell me that the formula they were using on me was an experimental attempt to recreate it from scratch. They lied to me, and I was too loyal to the cause to think twice. It failed, turned me into... this." Steven motioned to himself, sweeping an arm down his person, grimacing like his own body shamed him. Thor couldn't look at him then, eyes going to the tiled floor beneath his feet. "They dumped me out in a frozen wasteland, where I would die from hypothermia and my body would never be found. Except someone did find me."
Thor's eyes moved over his shoulder, up to Clint. The archer was staring at the wall, jaw tight and arms folded over his chest as if to prevent himself from reacting. His attention went back to Steven, who gave him a weary smile.
"I was lucky. And I'm not the first victim either. There've been... others, who've suffered in so many different ways, and not just in an attempt to reclaim what Erksine took with him. It's hard to see when you're with them, because they don't want you seeing those things. They know soldiers follow more loyally through faith than fear." He moved toward Thor again, cautiously; Thor found himself allowing it, though he should have snapped at him again. This man was a traitor, a betrayer of the Institution that kept them safe. Yet there was no malicious intent to him, no signs that he was lying, deceiving Thor intentionally. Steven reached out, grasping his chin again, putting the cup to his lips once more. Thor drank without pause. "I don't think you're a bad guy, just... blind. Like I was. And Clint happens to agree."
There were no more words as they helped Thor to eat and drink, moderating the pace so he wouldn't get sick and helping him through the nausea and spasms when he did, fingers holding back his hair and a hand on his back as his body rejected what it'd taken in. There were no words when they left, only a short nod from Clint and a small smile from Steven before the door closed behind their backs, leaving Thor in the silence to consider it all.
Eventually he was released. Not freed, but allowed reprieve from the chair and the thrice-damned holding room, and for all his strength Thor could have wept for joy. He hadn't realized how much the situation was wearing on him until he was released from it. He was allowed some roaming room, though nowhere where he could glean information to take back to the Institution, and he was never unattended - even when he took his shower he was guarded, which didn't faze him much as he recalled the group showers in the earlier days of his service. His hands were to always be bound, which kept the marks on his wrists from healing properly, and Mjolnir was locked away somewhere, but Thor couldn't complain. At least he could walk and sleep in a bed, even if it was a cot. It was miles above the uneasy rest in the chair of that room.
He was accompanied by highly accomplished agents, ones who would stare ahead and say nothing to him, and Thor didn't mind. He had nothing to say to them either. Some of the faces he recognized from his initial rampage through the compound, if barely. At rare times he was allowed the company of Steven, flanked by Clint who kept his bow on his back and stayed quiet as they conversed.
It was Steven who informed him he'd been kept captive a little over two months before Fury had agreed to let him out on 'good behavior'.
Steven kept the conversation casual, not prying for information, speaking to Thor as if he was an old friend and not a prisoner of war. Like he didn't have cuffs on his wrist, like Thor wasn't staring at him like he'd grown a second head as he slowly answered. The third time the two guarded him Clint joined the conversation, adding a note of humor that reminded Thor of Fandral.
"I need to go back." It was a sudden burst from him that had Steven and Clint quieting, glancing uneasily between each other.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Clint said slowly, though Thor knew what he actually meant: We can't do that. And what sense would it make to let an enemy return to the other side after seeing a place like this, with potential information to give?
"If what you say is true about the Institution, I need to make certain my allies are all right." He had told Loki the truth of his intent when he left to storm the resistance base, but if the message had somehow not been received then there was the possibility the Corps had been punished for his perceived betrayal, and Thor couldn't stand the thought. He lowered his head, stared at his shackled hands as he drew in a breath, willed his pride not to interfere for what he was to do next. They were the enemy, but they had been nothing but kind to him these past weeks, something like friends when they had no reason to be. He dropped his voice, forced the word out when every instinct said he should be ashamed for even thinking of this: "Please."
Clint and Steven were quiet, looking at each other again. Their conversation was a silent one, nothing but looks and body language to form words, before Clint let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
"This is going to be tricky," he muttered, and Thor brightened like he hadn't since his arrival here. Steven's smile answered it, a hand resting over one of Thor's.
"We'll work it out somehow."
"Thank you." And it was the most sincere he'd ever been, saying those two words.
They had to recruit another for the job, a Natasha Romanoff who frowned deeply at Clint but relented, helping to sabotage the cameras so Steven and Clint wouldn't be caught smuggling Thor out in the dead of night. They took a van to the nearest Institution checkpoint, Clint driving as Steven stayed in the back with Thor, undoing the shackles around his wrists and frowning at the dark marks that were there. Even the lightest touch of fingertips had Thor hissing, teeth grinding.
"Those are going to scar, even with your healing." Steven's voice was hushed, obvious guilt in the words. Thor managed a smile for him, careful to avoid knocking his wrists against anything as he folded his hands in his lap.
"I have suffered worse."
Clint stopped at a halfway point, not willing to risk getting any closer to the enemy. He let Thor out, showing no fear despite the fact that Thor was returning to the opposing force, that his hands were free and Mjolnir was hanging from his belt, and Thor couldn't identify just what the realization caused him to feel. He shook it off, clapped Steven and Clint on the shoulders and watched them drive off until he couldn't see the van, making sure they were away safely before trudging toward the checkpoint.
Booming thunder announced his presence, and the watchmen at the gates cursed in shock when they realized who was approaching.
He was rushed inside, taken to the bowels of the fortress, a place he'd never seen before. All he wanted was to get information on the Corps but he should have expected it wouldn't be that simple; he'd been gone for months, after all. He was taken into a wide, spacious room, thrust before projections of the council, a force he'd only heard whispers of before. More surprising were the projections of Odin and Loki that accompanied them. Their expressions gave nothing away and Thor felt something twist uneasily in his stomach.
Still he fell to one knee, bowing his head before them all. It was familiar, comfortable almost, despite the reminders of the stories Clint and Steven had told him.
"Rise," said a deep voice he did not recognize, and he followed, standing at attention before them all. The council was comprised of three members, their faces as unyielding as Loki and Odin's - one was a woman, with skin as pale as porcelain and jet black hair that fell over her shoulders, her eyes like ice as she stared at Thor. Another was a man, with dark skin like Heimdall's and close-shaven hair, a long scar winding down the right side of his face and eyes of jade. The last was androgynous, of a gender Thor could not determine, eyes narrow and dark and face framed by hair the color of flame. They all exuded a power even when they weren't there physically that made Thor swallow uneasily, made his hands clench into fists at his side.
The woman spoke first. "You have been away for a long time, 7C-1."
Thor nearly flinched at the use of his ID code, unused to hearing it now. "I was captured, a prisoner of the resistance."
The androgynous one scoffed. "'Captured'? And just how did they manage to capture a man who is one of our most lauded soldiers?"
Thor grit his teeth against the jab, forcing his voice to be smooth. "Their forces are stronger than expected."
"Are they?" The woman leaned forward, tapping dark nails against her lower lip, a thin brow rising. "You look... remarkably well for a prisoner newly escaped."
"Do you doubt what I say?"
"Your comrade 7C-2 tells us differently," spoke the man, and Thor froze, staring at the Mischief Maker. Loki didn't show anything, stared evenly back at Thor, waiting for the man to wave a hand to him before he launched into his speech.
"It's terrible, really. I should have spoken sooner, but..." He gave the council members a guilty, shamed look, before his eyes went back to the dumbstruck commando in the center of the room. "Thor was a trusted ally, and a dear friend. It was... difficult to believe when he told me he was leaving to join the resistance, asked that I come with him. Harder still to confess to the knowledge, even when I knew it was for his own good, and for the good of the Institution."
Thor found his voice then, rage causing it to boom, echo off the walls. Distantly he could hear the responding clap of thunder through the thick walls. "You lie! I left to crush the resistance, I told you that! Why are you saying these things?!"
"So you fought them, were captured, and escaped... with only wrist burns to show for your stay?" Loki arched a brow delicately, his expression one of pity. Anger, hurt and confusion were intertwined in Thor's mind, and he didn't know which to focus on, to act on. Loki merely shook his head, continued, sweeping his hand to Thor as his attention turned to the three council members. "Thor is, if nothing else, an incredibly capable warrior. We all know this. Odin and I have seen this first hand in all the battles we've shared with him. For him to be captured... while it's certainly not impossible - well. We see his condition. It doesn't seem they've been all that unkind to him, for a prisoner."
Loki finished his part, steepling long fingers, flashing the council a wry smile. The silence in the room was almost thick enough to feel as Thor stared at them all, trying to comprehend what had just happened, the betrayal he'd been given by one of his own. The council members turned simultaneously to Odin.
"What say you, 7A?"
"Odin, please - "
The woman's voice was like a cracked whip, and Thor physically flinched from the verbal blow. "Silence, 7C-1. You will speak when spoken to."
Odin didn't speak, not immediately, deliberating the situation and his response. All eyes were on him, waiting for his verdict. Thor wanted to speak, to yell, scream, smash something, anything to break the maddening silence that filled the room because he couldn't stand it when he knew his life was on the line.
Finally, Odin raised his head. He did not look at Thor as he let the hammer fall. "Thor has always been... impulsive, so it is easy to believe he could have gone with the intention of wiping out our foe. But to come back in such a condition - he may have been led astray."
The council members nodded all at once, and there was barely time for Thor to breathe before there were guards on him, grabbing his arms, taking Mjolnir away. Thor didn't struggle, didn't fight, couldn't find the strength in himself to, because Odin was right. He had been led astray, had let it happen. He allowed himself to be dragged away though he could have easily thrown his captors aside, the last things he saw before the doors closed being Odin's faint disappointment and Loki's cruel smirk.
The Institution was not as kind in its torture as the resistance had been. He was locked in the lowest parts of the fortress, no light but a dying bulb in his cell and the ones in the hallway, the air filled with the stench of sweat, rot and decay. He could hear screams echoing from somewhere, all through the day and night, could sometimes see the gibbering faces of other prisoners through the small glass window in the steel door.
He was beaten to his limits, bruised black and blue with all the force the guards could muster because they knew less wouldn't make a lasting impression. They pulled him by the hair, forced him to kneel as hit him with fists and clubs, hit him in one spot until something gave and he was howling in agony, the sound echoing in the small cell. They wanted information that Thor didn't have to give, but they didn't believe him, and so they left him limp on the dirty rock floor each night, in too much pain to move to the threadbare cot. He was fed just enough to survive, given just enough time to recover so that the next round of beatings hurt worse than the one before.
He missed Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun and Sif, wondered if Loki had told them the lies he'd told the council, wondered if they thought him a traitor just as Odin did. He missed the compound, spartan and yet so much more inviting than the barracks had ever been. He missed Steven and his spirit, so much bigger than his body, and he missed Clint and his calming presence.
He didn't know where he belonged, where he wanted to be, and that was, perhaps, the worst part of it all.
He couldn't find the will to move when the alarms started, his head swimming from the last assault. Could only stare at his door as he lay on the cool stone and wonder what was going on outside. There was noise, too much noise for his pounding head as the door was ripped free from the wall, and the last thing Thor saw before the darkness was green, red and gold.
He woke to light, hissing in pain and throwing an arm over his eyes. His body was aching, sore, but it was the lingering pain of recovered injuries instead of the lancing agony of fresh ones. Everything was blissfully silent even if it was too damn bright, the air was clear to breathe, there was a mattress under his body instead of a hard floor.
And then there was a touch on his arm, light, cautious. "Thor?"
Steven's voice. Thor felt the inexplicable urge to sob, suddenly weary from everything he'd gone through, feeling so much smaller than he actually was. He was shaking, didn't realize it until Steven carefully lifted his arm up, maneuvered himself so he blocked the light above. There was nothing but concern on his face, small hands resting on Thor's biceps as he stood above him.
"It's okay," was all he said. "You're safe now."
A choked sound rose from Thor's throat, and he found himself crying for the first time since he could remember.
They didn't put the cuffs on him this time. Clint and Steven stayed with him almost all the time, helping Thor recover from his ordeal with their presence, their friendliness. He was given a proper room in the compound and he slept with the light on, because waking to darkness would send him into a panicked fury and the last time it had happened Clint had to use several tranq arrows on him to get him to stop.
He met Natasha properly, her resemblance to Sif in demeanor and skill causing him more pain than he expected. He met Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, two more escapees from the Institution and his saviors, finding himself amused by the way they could go back and forth with each other like no one else in the world existed. He got to know more of the agents, like the curt Hill and the mild-mannered Coulson. He saw everything with new eyes and made his decision.
It was Coulson who heard it first. "I would speak with your superior."
"I was wondering when you'd say that," had been Coulson's response, before he'd led him into the center of the compound.
The voice behind the resistance went by the name of Nick Fury, and he was awe-inspiring in his very presence. His stare was piercing, taking Thor apart piece by piece as he stood before Fury, as he kneeled to him.
"I would pledge my loyalty - "
"Get up," Fury interrupted, exasperated. "None of that shit. No poetics either. Just say it."
Thor stood, more than a little embarrassed, cleared his throat and started again. "I wish to join the resistance."
Fury smirked, like a man who'd gotten everything he'd been expecting, and Thor felt like this was a long time coming somehow. "Very good. Welcome to the resistance, Thor." He turned away, waced a hand to Coulson. The agent led him out, Fury's words trailing after them: "Welcome to SHIELD."
but the welcome i receive with the restart.