The Smallest Words, an avengers fanfic

Author's Note:

All right, here's the thing I made mention of in my profile: a story that starts somewhat in the middle of the action, and you don't know exactly where (To me, that effect can give a story an ethereal quality and mystery, but if you're looking for plot explanation, it can be a bit confusing) but, yes, this is one of those stories that I finished before I wrote the prequel to it. (Yes, I did start the prequel- it's just not finished. yet It will be called (If I ever finish it- It Brings the Night) And I so seldom finish a story that I thought, you know, what the heck. I like it, and even though I haven't finished the prequel, it might not get published and it would be a shame to leave this one here, sitting in the dust. I'm not entirely pleased with it; the idea kind of overcame me, and I had trouble expressing it to my highest ability, but I tried; Literary criticism is indeed welcome. :)

To give you an idea, though, this story takes place during the Avengers, right after Thor, the Captain, and Iron Man arrive at the Helicarrier with Loki, before the Table Scene. Thor looked so troubled in that scene, so confused, and very much in thought, that I wanted to write a preceding scene.

In Tribute to Alydia Rackham.

Loki did not look at him again after they landed. A plethora of guards arrived to escort him away, and numbly, Thor released his brother to them. He watched as Loki disappeared beneath the doors, and this time, an actual physical chasm separating them was to Thor more preferred than the invisible, impenetrable pane that mounted ominously between them. He swallowed painfully, the awareness acutely sinking in.

The night held a mysterious air, thick and dark, yet... mournful. The storm he'd created coming down here had not fully dissipated, merging with the normal weather here to create an eerie prelude to the dawn. It was somehow fitting, and Thor's mood certainly didn't warrant the sky appearing anything less.

A few guards appeared to lead them inside, and the Metal Man, Stark, disappeared into a corridor, and a guard spoke to Thor and the Captain.

"They'll want to brief you in a half-hour. Your quarters are this way."

The S.H.I.E.L.D. guards directed him to door, where he was told he could rest, if needed, until the Captain turned to him.

"Sorry I didn't get a chance to, ah, properly introduce myself earlier. My name is Steve Rogers. You can stay here if you need to rest, and I'll come back by to show you to the bridge when it's time to go."

Thor gave the smallest ghost of a smile in acknowledgement, his exhausted mind worlds away.

His eyes flicked over the tall captain, seeing something of a kindred spirit in the blue eyes that looked over him curiously. "Thank you."

Rogers smiled back, sensing his need for solitude, and walked away to his own quarters, the door hissing shut behind him.

The metal room was impersonal, cold, and diminishing, a far cry from the warm rooms and gentle touches of his chambers on Asgard. He suddenly felt like he was suffocating. Breathe in. Breathe out.

'You are not suffocating.'

Or so he told himself. It seemed like he'd been held at the bottom of a deep, dark sea, still struggling upward, trying to come up for air for a year. Longer.

Despair clawed at his soul and he swallowed painfully.

Breathe in, Breathe out.

Not for the first time did he wonder how he could have handled their last conversation differently. In all seriousness, he had still been so overcome with shock, he had not noticed the dull ache in his core that he had so long ago accepted as a part of him. Now, it flared with a vengeance, flooding his soul with heartbreak and torment, in infinitely greater measure than he had ever remembered. It gnawed at him relentlessly, reminding him how utterly empty he felt.

Do you feel it, Brother? he wondered absently. Did you ever?

How powerless he was.

Although a warrior of great renown in Asgard, famed for his strength and his triumphant feats in battle, he felt himself impotent now, powerless, and lacking in what was his greatest battle yet. He knew how to out strategize an opponent. how to beat it back into submission, fighting it until it weakened, gave in, succumbed. But this...

This was not a battle he had fought before. It would require different tools, weapons he had seldom used. This opponent was new, and possessed a knowledge of his own heart, knowledge enough to terrify him. Destroy him.

How ironic. A great warrior who didn't even know how to conquer his own mind.

For his greatest battle now seemed to ever be against himself. His own heart, his own mind, a vicious war clashing inside him, filling him with turmoil. He didn't even know which voice to listen to anymore.

Was that how Loki felt?

Does the pain reach you?

He sighed. Still so impatient. Still reaping pain from his mistakes. Constantly reminded of his greatest shortcomings and failures. Paying for it with the bond of brotherhood continually being stretched.

He feared it was going to snap. If it hadn't already. No... no, it had not. Not yet. He thought it had, when his brother had let go, the horror and the despair and the shock tearing through him freshly, as he recalled the awful sensation of ripping, pulling, stretching, tearing, clawing, wrenching unspeakable agony that poured through his mind, his heart, his soul, through every part of his being as that bond had severed.

No.

Strained to sever.

It still hurt because it was still stretching.

It hadn't snapped.

If it had, he would feel only darkness. Emptiness. Loss. Hollow and deathly still. He'd be a living shell.

No. It was still there.

Yes... there was still pain. Oh, such glorious, heartbreaking, agonizing pain! It was so real, so vivid, still there, wrenching through his core, gnawing at his soul, with far greater potency than at the Bifrost so many months ago- and Valhalla- he had thought it would crush him. But as hope died, the pain dulled to an ache deep within him, never leaving, but shredded to a veil, ripping away his innocence, and leaving him scarred, bruised, and broken. And with a start, he realized the pain had never gone away because Loki had not died. How had he been so Blind? He had not noticed it on the mountain because the shock had prevented him from focusing on it. Yet now that he was alone, it returned with a vengeance, so amazingly REAL that he rejoiced in it! It was still *there!* And it burned brightly, now more than ever. But it was there. Never did he think that he would be rejoicing in this until this moment, but Pain was infinitely preferable than the black, cold void of indifference. To the dull throbbing emptiness in his soul.

So much pain.

Oh, it was glorious.

The pain was ALIVE.

There was pain. And he gave thanks for the pain, and the tears that now fell were tears of joy, because he could still feel the pain. It wasn't gone. He wasn't gone.

Was Loki?

Even if he wasn't, that didn't stop Thor from the sorrow of wishing he could've done things differently. Said something- anything- differently. And in his mind, he went back over, and made the words kinder, softer, understanding, compassionate, and infinitely more gentle. Even the same words, spoken in a different spirit, would have been preferable.

If only he could change the past! But it was a futile hope. Wishing wouldn't change the present. But it didn't stop him from wishing. And even then, knowing that it would have turned out for the better had he made a different decision, said a few words of kindness, stopped and just listened for once, would that make the pain all the more real? More poignant? Knowing that it could have been different, but it wasn't, and it was HIS fault.

No. If there had been any way, knowing that it was his fault that it hadn't been different, then it would have been a tormenting relief. If it was his fault, than he could still change it now! He just had to know that there was hope! But he wasn't even sure if he had that anymore. That Loki had been alive had been a source of joy for him. Discovering who his beloved brother had become in that death had more than taken the joy away. Had ripped it out of him and left him with tortuous despair.

But it was still pain.

Thor sighed, a breath that was taken from the depths of despair and torment. He shut his eyes, desperately wishing to know, to just understand... anything that would have made this nightmare change. To know that he could've changed it, would be better than dwelling in the present, where he currently felt so utterly useless.

And alone.

He let his mind wander, turning to happier thoughts, happier times, in the past, and gradually, a small smile slipped onto his face as he was lost in a thousand memories of brotherhood, happiness, mischief, camaraderie, love, adventures, discoveries, pain, loss, comfort, and trust.

Eventually, though, his heart came to one memory- very recent, comparatively, and he let his mind follow suit, losing himself in the memory, the last truly happy memory he had of his brother.

He hardly needed any more focus- he'd lived this memory ten thousand times since that day. Yet he found himself falling deeper into it this time. Striving to see what he couldn't see before. Yearning toward it. Seeking an answer for both their tormented souls.

Strangely, a sort of haze seemed to cloud his mind, and he suddenly felt incredibly dizzy. Yet in that darkness that threatened to swallow him, he saw a light. He found the familiar aura that was that memory, that was his brother.

And pulled.

The thick darkness washed over him, and he could hear his heart pounding somewhere a long way off. A mist wafted over him and gradually he became more aware of his surrounding. Even though he still couldn't see well, he began to walk, needing the motion to regain his awareness. Gradually, the mist was swallowed into the walls, yet he still felt somewhat heavy. As if in a dream. Yet he continued walking, and suddenly, without a shred of doubt, he knew. His heart knew. He'd walked this hall a thousand times in Asgard, and thousands more in dreams. Absently, he reached out a hand, and let his fingers brush the cold wall.

Thor slowly made his way down the corridor, his steps long and heavy, taking in deep, measured breaths. He slowed even more, faltering. He knew what was coming, could recite every movement, ever whisper of cloth, every sound, every expression in his head perfectly. He had relived this moment in his mind more times in the last year than he could ever begin to count. Had he only said something different… has his spirit only been clearer... his mind ran through all the possibilities, all the words he could have said that would have been better… would it? Would ANYTHING he could have chosen to say have prevented what had happened that day?

Inhaling softly, deeply, he strode forward, trying not to let his apprehension show in his face. He was not skilled at masking his expressions- that was always Loki's forte. He would not let this pass. He had a part to play. But he also needed honesty. To be himself. He sighed audibly. Perhaps that was best. Just be himself. Today, even though he was not the Thor that had lived this moment previously, he would be everything that he was. Everything that had made him who he was now had not yet happened, but he had a chance to see… to change… to say everything he had wanted to say right now. And he would not let it pass. He felt his brother close, noticing the scent of spice, mischief and silky fabric that he sensed instinctively rather than noticing physically. How had he not noticed it before? Oh, my brother... when did I fail you?

Was it here?

He let the moment come to him.

Loki slid up next to him smoothly, and it would have made him proud had he known how great a mask his brother was wearing. But he didn't.

"Nervous, brother?"

Thor chuckled, softer this time, more contemplative.

"Have you ever known me to be nervous?"

It was like a beautiful nightmare. One so calm and lovely and bright, but made you sick knowing the pain that would follow in mere hours…

"Well, there was that time in Nornheim…"

When did you fall?

It was like living in a blurred myriad of colors. He let laughter swallow the tears.

"That was not nerves brother- it was the rage of battle! How else do you think I managed to fight our way through a hundred warriors to safety?

He played the part, taking note of every nuance, every twitch, every expression, yet basking in his brother's presence. In the memory.

In every spoken word.

Living it.

"Ah… as I recall… it was I who veiled us in smoke in order to ease our escape…"

Breathing it.

"Some do battle, others just do tricks…"

Was this a lie? Were we a lie? Were we ever real?

Loki promptly turned the wine into snakes, leaving the poor terrified servant with a severe case of nerves for the rest of the day, no doubt.

"Loki… now that was just a waste of good wine," He gave in, letting the affection soak through his voice freely. And it was then he noticed the hurt. The pain. Oh, how he had missed this! The huge chasm in his chest that he had been successfully veiling split open with renewed fervor. Pain.

And with it, conviction.

The familiar smirk was replaced with a wonderfully contrite expression that, to anyone else, would have looked utterly genuine.

"Sorry. Just a bit of fun."

How innocent. How naive.

How utterly… well, compared to the Loki Thor had left behind, this one was practically a child. A boy.

How searing the burn of knowledge. Burning away the innocence, the faith, the child…

The love too? Was it gone forever? He tested the waters anew, teasing him, every effort spent in covering the ache that was threatening to spill over.

"...you're not going in that outfit, are you?" Loki asked in troubled amusement.

"What?" Thor looked down, remembering that he had failed to change into his full set of armor before coming down here. Minor mishap. "Oh. I... I must have gotten distracted." And he had been distracted. Very.

"Ha. I'll say. Though I can't fathom how being offered a... clearer view of your physique would do you any disfavors among the... feminine audience- leaving out Mother, of course."

"Loki! You... You are incapable of sincerity!" Exasperated. Smiling. Watching.

"Am I?"

Loki watched Thor curiously, noticing for the first time a slight… was that apprehension? Surely he must be mistaken. Though he couldn't imagine Thor being nervous… something was clearly bothering him. His brother was an atrocious liar, after all. However, this time, Thor's gaze was intense. Watching. Gauging. His eyes flickered over Loki's face, asking a silent question. Loki sighed inwardly. Smiled. Set him at ease.

And he let the words come out, unrehearsed, flowing over his tongue easily, as they always did, yet this time… he was truly sincere. Just because he had set out to teach his brother a lesson through earning him their Father's potential disfavor this day didn't mean that he had to disregard their bond. It was true. He was jealous. But he would not let this moment be marred by his own pain. There was time enough to dwell on that without Thor around.

"I've looked forward to this day as long as you have," his voice quieted, and he paused, looking away from Thor's suddenly intense expression. "Sometimes… I'm envious…" he admitted, "…but never doubt that I love you."

And he did. More than anyone. And it was because he loved him that he was doing this, he told himself.

Unaware that Thor knew of it all, even now. Unaware of everything. If he could have guessed at the thoughts in his brother's mind at that moment, never would he have guessed the truth.

Thor's gaze intensified even more, if it were possible, and he reached up, gently taking Loki's head in his hand. Was silent for a long moment.

"…thank you."

Loki gave him a smirk, unable to resist the urge.

"Now give us a kiss."

At this Thor's face lit up with a smile and he gave a ridiculously humored glare at his brother.

"Oh, Loki…"

His hand had not left Loki's shoulder, and it tightened unconsciously, but he didn't let go. Loki's brow furrowed, glancing at Thor, and frowned ever so slightly. His brother's expression- usually open and amazingly easy and honest, his thoughts written across his face- was blank. Unreadable. Deep in thought.

Very unusual.

Hm. Thor was more nervous than he thought. Loki's words and antics were usually always more than enough to draw that look off his face, set him at ease, wipe all seriousness away with his incessant teasing...

He watched as a fierce expression of sorrow and pain flickered across Thor's face so quickly he wasn't even sure that he saw it. And suddenly, he was stricken with how… old his brother looked. Yet so young at the same time. Like a lost child. A lost child burdened with a million sorrows so deep, so wrong for his time.

Was that… regret?

Slightly concerned now, he whispered, willing his brother to tell him what was bothering him. "Thor?"

"Brother…"

And Thor's breath hitched, his voice full of boundless regret and pain, longing and despair, and such sorrow that was so unexpected it stopped Loki's train of thought instantly, startling him.

Thor took a deep breath, and after a moment, gently set his hammer on the floor, gathering his words. They swirled around in his head, every one screaming to get out, but refusing to come together in a coherent string of thought. Forcing his composure, he demanded the words into hopefully acceptable sentences, barely even paying attention. All that he was aware of was the infinite regret, the gaping hole in his chest where fulfillment should be, and he barely managed to fit the words together into understandable sentences before they left his mouth.

So many things. So much he needed to say.

So short a time. He only prayed that it would be enough time, prayed that he would have the strength to say- to finish what he was meant to do so long ago.

He stood to face his brother, and gently, very, very gently, lifted Loki's helmet off his head, revealing a face furrowed with confusion. Placing both hands on his shoulders tenderly, and willed the words to a voice, hoping that it was all that he needed. All that they both needed. Hoped that Loki would understand. If not now, than later. He HAD to understand. He had to know.

That was what he regret most. Loki not knowing. Had he known how much he was cared for? How much he was loved? Had he truly known that and in all knowledge, let go? Had he even felt half the pain that Thor had?

Thor could not believe it then. Could not believe it now. Especially not now.

Loki's eyebrows knit together as he watched Mjølnir take a seat on the floor.

Something was clearly working through his brother's head. He wasn't sure if it was disturbing him more than Thor- not whatever he was going to say- it couldn't possibly be that important- no, more disturbed at the intense demeanor change. Never in all their centuries together could he recall such an expression on his brother's face. However, for all his pride in being able to read language and expression, never, never, never in ten thousand years would he have anticipated what was going to come out of Thor's mouth next. And it was Thor, Thor trying to 'make it better'. Always trying to 'make it better', in the only way he knew how. Words were not his forte. Thor's talents had always lain with actions. Nevertheless, he needed to say this, and to say Loki was getting uncomfortable would have been a massive understatement. Thor had the habit of saying what was ever on his mind, emotions be damned, and Loki, for the life of him, rarely left anything of himself exposed to be discovered. It made things... very interesting, and dynamic, at times, even violent. And yet Loki wouldn't have traded it.

Much safer that way. And he had to be. He was usually cleaning up Thor's messes, after all…

He was still uncomfortable, yet he moved his body slightly, as Thor turned to face him in full now, and proceeded to gently remove his helmet and set it in Loki's hands, placing his hands back on his brother's shoulder's, far more gently than he was used to.

It unnerved him.

"I… I realize that I have not been the brother to you that I should have been-"

And it was here Loki opened his mouth to stop him, stop the ridiculous sentimental flow of nonsense that was about to pour out, that he did not want to hear, not now, and Thor certainly did not need it on his conscious. Better they get this over with without any emotional baggage on Thor's psyche- and goodness knows his psyche didn't need it. "Thor-"

However, before he could speak further, Thor stopped him. "-No, brother. Listen to me. Please." He had to listen, and he would not be stopped now. Not here, not now when everything was perfect.

"I- I have been… less than the man that I am able. Less than the brother I was meant to be. You are right…" and here he let out a self-deprecreating smile- "I am nervous. In fact… I do not think I have ever been more nervous in my entire life."

Loki suddenly knew it wasn't because of the coronation. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew.

Thor was abruptly aware of a distinct pull on his mind, and it seemed very far away. Yet somewhere inside, his soul cried out to him to hurry. His time here was running out.

"...and I know that this day pains you, in more ways than one."

"It has not escaped me that the affection bestowed upon me by this kingdom, and as much as I am loathe to say it… by our father, has not settled upon you in the way that you deserve. It is to my great regret that I admit I never said anything to you- or to our parents before because you never mentioned it. I once thought that it didn't bother you, but I realize now that that isn't the point. I had a responsibility- I saw, and I did not act. I have been selfish, careless, and arrogant and I ask…" He paused, catching his breath, straining to settle his composure, though his voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper.

"…I beg you, my brother, please, please forgive me.

Loki had, by now gone very pale, and though his mouth opened, his voice remained trapped in his throat. Thor looked down, ashamed, and softly continued.

"Many things have been sacrificed for power, for kingdoms, brotherhood not the least among them, and I cannot-" he swallowed.

"-cannot begin tell you how much I need you. You are my brother, my advisor, my conscience, and more than all of these and far more, you are my friend. I need you with me, I want you with me, beside me, as my friend, as my brother, as my equal. And I want you to know that to me, you are-have never been- will never be, anything less than my equal. My better half. I would be nothing without you, Loki. I have never thought of you as anything else, and I never will. No matter what the kingdom thinks, no matter what our father thinks, no matter what anyone thinks or says, you are my brother, my equal, and…"

He felt the pull again, closer this time, much closer, and he desperately forced it to the back of his mind.

He took a half step closer, framing Loki's pale face in his hands, and said the words he should have said, so long ago, so very long ago, and so many times after that, had he only seen, had he only listened, but he had been too blind, too selfish, and too hasty to notice.

"…I am proud of you!" he whispered fiercely, releasing all the passion of a lifetime. "I am so proud of you! I have always been proud of you! So many times-" His eyes blurred and he struggled to finish his thought before he broke. "-I wanted to tell you. I should have told you. I just… I was so… so hasty. So many times… I never paused long enough to think further than myself, much as it shames me. I did not still my soul enough to see. But I see! I want to see! I want to listen! And it's hard, sometimes, but I want so much to listen! And I'm trying. I am trying… Please… will you… can you forgive me?"

"… I am proud of you! I am so proud of you! I've always been proud of you…"

Loki's face had long ago lost all it's previous color, as he was frozen into a still, deathly silence as Thor begged for his forgiveness. Listened as Thor poured out everything that had wormed its cold, dark way into his core so many years ago. Had festered inside, feeding on the need for attention, mixing with pride, power and desire, becoming a truly detestable combination that threatened to release a raging, terrible beast.

How?

And he was terrified. In a few simple words, in mere seconds, despite all those carefully constructed walls, all the lies, all the year of the facades, through all the desperate hidden shadows, Thor had found that Beast, found everything he thought hidden so carefully, had known the silent fear…

How did he know?

…Had taken the deepest insecurities of his heart, had taken his heart, delved into his soul, took each and every one of the fears, the bitter thoughts, the jealousy, the envy, the ugly darkness, the heartbroken pleas… each one, took them. Caressed them. Tenderly placed them back inside. Letting him know. Letting his brother know that he knew. He knew and he cared. He saw! He had listened! And in one moment, he realized that someone had been listening. Someone had seen him. And all the pain, all the bitterness, the fear, the longing, the insecurity, the need and the despair- The mask had vanished as Thor took them all out, one by one, lain them in front of both of them, forced him to look... to see what he had become... no. Put them aside. Like it didn't matter. And he could not stop the choke hold of an invisible hand upon his throat. Unbelieving. All he could do was listen, powerless, as he was emptied of the secrets he had thought so neatly kept from his clumsy blonde oaf of a brother who was suddenly not near as obtuse nor shortsighted as he had previously been thought.

"…can you forgive me?"

Tender hands softly caressed his numb face and pleaded with him, desperate and imploring, begging him for an answer. An answer that wouldn't come. He had lost all semblance of normality and the shock and fear crept over his face, Followed by… by joy? An insane, tumultuous combination of sorrow, shame, pain, bitterness and unfathomable happiness raged within him. Heat stung the back of his eyes, and he forced himself to swallow, an insanely difficult and admirable feat, considering his throat felt about the size of a needle eye. So many years.

So many years living.

Yet not believing. Not really living at all.

Because no one saw him. He had accepted it.

But that hadn't been true. He saw the veil torn. Saw the face behind it.

And while his mind furiously demanded him to turn away, to deny this ridiculous stream of nonsense and utter madness, his heart reached out, and he was unable to stop it. It was in pain, and it was desperate, and it viciously clawed its way out of the dark hole he had forced it into, and pulled him toward the soul before him like moth to a flame. He barely had time to register the thought in his mind before his heart took over.

The desperation took a leap of faith.

Thor implored Loki to just understand, to listen, to HEAR him… and his brother's face had gone still and deathly white. The cocky smile had vanished, leaving in its wake a threatening combination of shock, followed by resentment, and denial, which was quickly replaced by fear, then horror, pure terror, followed by shame… and guilt…?

He struggled to read the tumbling myriad of emotions surging through his brother's face in an potently uncharacteristic display. Of all the reactions he had anticipated, this had not been one of them. Not to this extent.

When Loki didn't move after a few seconds, his expression still frozen, his eyes not leaving Thor's for a moment. Staring into them. Behind them. Beyond them. As if he was striving to read his soul. Unable to hold the gaze, Thor's eyes dropped to the floor, as he quietly started to slide his hands off Loki's shoulders.

He had wanted Loki to know.

Nothing more.

"I-I just… wanted you to know… I don't intend to be presumptuous, or even think that y-"

His words were cut off as his arms were suddenly full of said brother, long arms wrapping around his neck, and a warm body pressing against his, desperate, apprehensive, full of distress, disbelief, and… and joy?!

He didn't waste any time wondering, and promptly crushed Loki to his chest, delight swelling within him at the feel of his brother in his arms. He had not held his brother since… since...

A gnawing cold feeling grasped at him as he struggled to remember. It had been at least year, accounting for his time change, but before this…

He could not place it.

Guilt weighed heavily in his chest. One more thing in which he had failed in his brotherly duties. Oh well. No time like the present, or so they said.

He reveled in the touch, lifting his brother ever so slightly off the ground, delighting in the very weight, in everything that screamed now, demanding that he make it right.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, Loki…"

Somewhere along the way, Loki had unconjured his armor, considerably lightening Thor's burden, not that it was much of a burden to begin with. He reached up a hand, running it through dark hair warmly, massaging the back of his head. He pressed his face into Loki's shoulder, as hands tightly fisted into his cape desperately, grabbing handfuls of him. Hot tears fell on his neck, and he couldn't have cared in the slightest.

This was what he was born for.

This was what he longed for.

This was what he had waited for for a year.

And it broke his heart because this was not his brother. His brother was still currently in a glass cage on the Helicarrier on Midguard. The Thor that had been here would never have seen. Never had believed. Wouldn't have reached out. Was too focused on himself. And that truth, cold and unfeeling though it may be, was enough to make him nearly physically ill. But here, now, in this beautiful dream, he was given a glimpse. One small, glorious glimpse, of the truth. Here was not entirely real. And he was viciously reminded of that fact as he felt something reaching down into his soul, close, now, so unbearably close, calling him back and he knew he would have to answer soon.

But this was almost as good. Almost.

He knew.

He Understood. Thor was here, and he had seen him. Listened. Heard. Heard when no one ever had. When even Loki had expected him to remain oblivious. Had counted on it.

And now, with his arms wrapped around his brother's larger frame, his composure utterly nonexistent, he had no words. His voice wouldn't make the sounds, couldn't force all the possible answers he could give into a sentence that was anything but coherent. He pressed his face into his brother's neck, which was wet for some reason. He was lifted and crushed to an armored chest with superhuman strength, and warm hands caressed his head, and in that moment, so utterly absurd, so unpredicted, so unexpected, so… so welcome… Loki found himself feeling strangely… exposed. He rarely let his guard down, and if he did, it was only ever with his mother, or with Thor.

Mostly Thor.

And even this hadn't happened in… well, decades.

It was glorious.

After a few moments, Thor's arms gentled, and he softened the embrace, holding his brother against him, tenderly tracing patterns along his back, stroking the back of his head, his neck and down his back again. Loki rested his head in Thor's collar, feeling something settle in his chest, no… Something had left.

Something that had been so foreign, yet so long with him he had not even noticed it was there until it was gone.

Tension.

The tight ball of knots that had wound up in his core had loosened, faded, and he relaxed into that wide, welcome chest, fearing absolutely nothing. How could he?

Gently, calloused fingers slipped downward, settling lightly below his collarbone, and despite the breastplate, warmth somehow traveled through to skin, manifesting itself in the chain that was always there.

And the next words, Thor spoke not to Loki's ears, but to his soul. Willing the echoes of this promise to be imprinted, engraved, and forever emblazoned upon his brother's spirit, a promise that could not, would not be broken, regardless of where Loki's soul resided. He had never infused words with such desperation, such will, such determination. Such love.

His voice was so quiet, so eerily still, that no one could have possibly heard him. It was almost as if he was speaking… to a ghost. Into his mind. His soul. And it was curious because it had absolutely no relation to what Thor had been saying previously. Not that Loki really was dwelling on this fact. The words were heard.

"I am with you. No matter what happens, no matter who you choose to be, no matter who you choose me to be, always remember, that as long as the East stands from the West, I will be YOUR brother. Yours, and no one else's. Forever. Remember that. Remember today. Remember that I love you."

Thor moved his head away from its resting place on his brother's shoulder, and seconds later, warm lips pressed softly against his forehead, earning an exasperated, contented sigh.

"I- I was only jesting, brother…" The voice barely even resembled his, raspy and hoarse, and not audible to any but the one who held him. Thor smiled. "I know..."

"…but I wasn't."

Honest to the grave.

It would be the death of his dear, foolish brother, to be sure. Unaware that he had spoken that last thought aloud, he managed a sound between a cough, a laugh, and a sigh with what followed.

"Hmm… you'd better stick around then. Think you could do that? For me?" Low. Teasing. Shaky.

Loki smiled, moving away to look his brother face to face, but not relinquishing his arms from his waist. Unsteady. But still undeniably Loki. The familiar smirk smoothed the shaky smile.

"Have I ever let you down?"

"I don't plan to let you."

Thor laughed again, deeper this time, and Loki laughed with him. He relished the vibration as it traveled up his chest, into every part of him, echoing in his soul. Oh, how he had missed this! He had nearly forgotten what it felt like. Strange... he could not recall the last time he had let anyone this close, even his brother. Thor pulled him into his arms again, and he gave in, half-mumbling in his brother's chest, "We're going to be late."

"Fashionably."

Loki scoffed at that, watching a servant scurry behind them, a confused look on his face, and then hurry out of the hall. He smirked again.

Fashionably, indeed.

It was Thor's turn to sigh now, smiling at the memories invoked as he watched the servant hurry out of the hall, no doubt looking for them. Many a day where the two of them would be standing right in the middle of a room in broad daylight and none were the wiser. His brother was a lifesaver.

Well. Here anyways. The latter term was debatable in his own time.

His own time.

A painful ache throbbed in his chest, and he tightened his grip ever so slightly. This was beautifully real, and more than anything he could have ever wished for, yet…

It wasn't the Loki he was supposed to be holding. The chasm in his chest had closed, but the ache was still there. Still familiar. Suppressed, but still very real. He needed his brother. *His* brother. The one he had failed. He would not fail a second time. He let himself enjoy the moment, cherishing every second, until eventually they parted.

"Crying before the crowning… bad omen," Loki muttered, and Thor playfully ruffled his hair, messing it up.

"Thor- don't- You know I hate that."

Thor just chuckled. Yes…

Loki was a wonderful liar, that was certain.

What wasn't certain was that he wasn't going to get to stay here. This was a dream, a different past, leading to a different future.

Not his.

What was certain was that now he knew what made his brother tick. There was a hole.

Just like his. A gaping, huge hole where the other was supposed to be.

Just like him.

They were far more similar than he ever would have previously supposed.

His tactics completely re-written, and his thoughts freshened and encouraged, he moved forward after his brother, now again armored, his face impressively concealing all traces of the former emotional meltdown, albeit not without some difficulty, but there was a soft glimmer in his eyes, a peace that hadn't been there before. And something else.

Trust.

Thor met his eyes, mirroring his brother's intense expression with one of his own, a truth lodged firmly in his mind and soul so deep that not even he was sure of all its intricacy.

His eyes glittered with an unspoken secret and Loki gave him a curious smile.

Yes... He had his answer.

The call was upon him now, and he could feel himself slipping, as his mind began to close around him, but this time, he was ready. He had his answer. He followed after his brother, and Loki said something to him, a murmur to his ear, and Thor struggled to hear what it was. He heard himself laugh, and more content than he had ever been, he left himself slide away. The mist crept over him, and echoes of laughter bounced around him. He suddenly felt like drowning, and inhaled a deep breath, willing the darkness to take over.

A half second later, he opened his eyes, and saw the floor of the SHIELD room. He was still sitting on the bench, and it was silent. Yet something had awoken within him. Sprouted something fierce and protective. More determined and alive than it had ever been. It surrounded him, penetrated him, filled him, and he basked in it, breathing it in. Feeling it pound in his heart, flow through his blood, entwine in his soul, and give him life.

Yes.

The Pain was Alive.

And so was Hope.