You most certainly need to read Quicksilver and Phage in order to understand these vignettes. As a thank-you to fans and reviewers, this series WILL be taking requests for scenes you would like to see. Please PM me with your thoughts, and thank you for your support.
Life had become a series of routines, and Lynn could not sleep.
Of course, sleeping had always been a sort of distant relative, someone who visited when they needed something and left when they were through with her. She had never mastered the art of regular bedtimes. Her body had won that battle years before, and these days she simply existed in a state of constant drowsiness, content to let her body decide when she would be allowed her next restful moment.
This, however, was worse - far worse. Bad enough that JARVIS, the nosy thing, asked her every day if she had visited the doctor about it. He assured her that he recognized the signs of PTSD, an assertion she huffed at angrily.
"I haven't been in a war, JARVIS," she angrily asserted, and the A.I. fell silent. He knew better than to argue with her, because he'd had much the same arguments with his creator, and likely still was.
Tony never said a word to her about the circles under her eyes, or how she drooped, body and spirit, when she thought no one was looking. She kept busy, and he kept busy, and together they shared silent counsel on the shared experience of losing to their own bodies.
Natasha came to see her once a week. Lynn asked her in the beginning why, to which the assassin replied, "Are you ready to see the boys?"
Lynn understood. She was seeing Natasha because Natasha had told the boys to stay away. It was an agreement among them to respect her privacy, particularly impressive since Tony and even Thor struggled with the concept of leaving a woman in peace for extended periods of time. Natasha would take her to dinner, and they would eat and gossip and chat about life, and Natasha would then ask her what she wanted the boys to know.
Lynn always had a simple reply: Tell them about school. Tell them about work. Everything's fine.
And Natasha would say: Tony knows you're not sleeping. You know JARVIS tells him that.
But he doesn't say anything to me, Lynn would say, and Natasha would smile in a way that seemed more like a grimace, and say nothing else. She knew as well as the rest of them that pushing the matter would shut them all out, abruptly.
Natasha would leave soon after, and the cycle continued for another week. School, work, visit with Natasha. Catch moments of sleep in between days of wakefulness. Wake up soon after, shivering and afraid, and vow to never sleep again.
The routine was soothing, in a way.
There was only one truly unpredictable aspect of her life, who came and went as he pleased. Loki did knock these days, which amused her each time, and she suspected the laugh he got from her for it was more to do with the continued habit than actual politeness. She also suspected that he had little to no concept of her own schedule, and merely showed up when the mood took him – whatever mood it was that led him to seek her out.
She had no idea what it was. She had also not made a decision, the decision, and he never reminded her. She thought he might hope that she forgot, and didn't want to bring the idea roaring back to her.
He still preferred to sit on her coffee table, the heavily fortified wood not creaking under surprising weight. She had thought he was just ornery, choosing a non-seat as his seat, until he had tried the sofa at her urging. Seeing him sink into the cushions, his vestments bulging and creasing in odd locations, had made her admit defeat. It had looked silly, and he didn't fit on a couch anyway. So she let him have the coffee table without any further comments.
Today, Loki sat on the edge with his hands folded, his more casual position. There was a falseness to it – he was putting on a show, and she was tense through the shoulders waiting to see what was coming.
"I have been informed by Stark, through my brother, that I am to ask you about your sleeping habits, or lack thereof," he said. He sounded uncomfortable, and he should; the topic of her health was a no-go between them. He was implicitly to blame for a good bit of her issues now, and they both knew it.
"If it was Tony who asked, I know he didn't ask like that," she said. She was jotting notes inside of a school textbook. The habit drove Loki mad, and she couldn't help but rile him in such a small, silly way. He watched the pen – permanent, and green – slide across the sacred pages and grinded his teeth.
"He said I might learn something," Loki said with a sour tone. "I feel as though I know quite enough, these days. Perhaps what I should strive for is to forget."
"Feed Maxwell," she said, and he scowled and grumped his way through the task. But he did it, taking a pinch of fish flakes and crumbling them into the water while the betta snapped at the offerings. Another task done because he knew it amused her to watch him.
She knew she had failed to distract him when he said, "I have not forgotten my question. Does something ail you?"
"I don't want to talk about it," she said, and she didn't.
"Nonetheless I am here, set upon this task," Loki said. He dusted the tips of his fingers free of debris and looked over to her. The slight swish, swish of a fish eating broke the silence between them.
"Don't be a dog with a bone about it," she said. "I don't want to talk about it, especially not with you."
If he were anyone else, he might have been offended. He laughed instead.
"It is not I who makes this choice for you," he said. "In fact, I am unconcerned about it entirely – if you do not sleep, you will not hurt yourself -"
He stopped, and glanced at her. She raised both eyebrows. Yes, she thought, you reminded me.
"At least, not at present," he said, more sullenly. He did not like to feel this way, and turned to her windows to look over the city below. "I feel I should mention that Stark was more concerned about your studies than your health. I believe he, as he put it, 'has no ground to stand on.'"
"That's true," Lynn said. She put the book down because he wasn't watching anyway, and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I guess he's gotten better, but we don't talk about it either."
"You won't hurt yourself, will you?" Loki asked. He tried to sound casual. His fingers twitched.
"No, Loki," she said. "I won't hurt myself."
"Why are you not sleeping, Amma Lynn?" he asked. He sniffed once, quietly. "You are not ill – you cannot be ill – and you have ample opportunity."
"I don't want to." She uncurled from the sofa and stood, walking to the kitchen. He followed her, as she knew he would. He couldn't stand to be alone if another person was close by, like a feral cat following people at a distance, constantly hissing when paid attention to.
She didn't drink coffee outside of the shop; she used her small, cheap coffee-maker to make tea instead. She set two bags inside and flipped the switch. Loki scoffed behind her.
"I am astonished that Stark allows you to keep that pitiful contraption," he said. "He could build a better machine with scraps."
"He hates it," she said. "I don't mind it. It's functional. There's no reason to change it."
"Except that it could be improved upon." Loki raised one hand, his fingers already glowing green.
"Leave it alone!" Lynn scowled at him, and he laughed and lowered his hand. He enjoyed riling her as much as she did him. He thought it made them friends, when she was in a more charitable mood.
He glanced at the electric timepiece above her stove and noticed that the time was long past what most would call a reasonable hour. Indeed, she would be expected to wake soon, and she had clearly not slept at all this night.
"Amma Lynn, surely you should attempt to rest," he said.
"Right after you do," she said, and he pursed his lips. She used much the same methods with Stark, who gave in immediately when reminded of his own imperfections.
There was a simple way to win this conversation, and though it galled him terribly to do it, he was alone here with her, and she was not the type to spread gossip.
"Very well," he said. "I will sleep here, on this terrible furniture you mortals deem fit for leisure, and you will sleep in your room."
Lynn looked over at him. The circles under her eyes gave her a sunken, sick appearance, and he was reminded of days gone by. He tilted his head and blinked at her, and she unconsciously mirrored the blink.
"You'll stay here?" she asked, quiet and dull. She didn't sound happy or hopeful, but there was a slight spark in her spine which gave her away.
Why are you afraid to sleep, he wanted to ask. He nodded his head instead, and waited. In another moment, the pot began to burble and she reached to flick the switch into the off position.
"Alright," she said hesitantly. "I'll sleep if, if you'll be out here."
"I will stay," Loki said. She found a blanket for him, gave him one of her pillows, and stood as a lost waif in her doorway, hands clutching her elbows. Loki waited until she closed the door, and laid himself out on the sofa.
He would not sleep, of course, but the illusion apparently provided her solace. He watched the crease under her door until the light inside was turned off, and listened closely. He couldn't hear her breathing from this distance.
Loki closed his eyes, and drifted. It was less than an hour later when a voice prodded at his awareness.
"Mr. Laufeyson," JARVIS said through the speakers rigged throughout the room. Loki opened his eyes and sat up, looking upward.
"Yes?" he asked.
"You should check on Miss Creed," JARVIS said. Loki was already standing and heading for the door.
"What has she not told us?" he asked as he turned the knob.
"She forbade me from telling," JARVIS said as he swung the door open. Lynn was awake in the center of her bed, her head buried inside of her curled-in knees. She was shaking terribly, so hard that the blankets had fallen from around her. She looked up when Loki cleared his throat, and sucked in a sharp breath.
"Don't h-hurt me," she whispered desperately, and Loki knew that she saw him exactly as he was. She was not caught in some nightmare, seeing a false manifestation – she was seeing Loki himself, and the sight perturbed her.
He stepped closer and she flinched.
"I will not hurt you, Amma Lynn," he said soothingly. Her trembling reminded him so clearly of Sleipnir, frozen with fear, abandoned in the woods. Loki mimicked his movements from that discovery now, slow and cautious so as not to startle her. He settled himself at the corner of her bed, not touching her but close enough to do so if needed. He had been trained as a warrior once, and knew these signs. She was in the throes of a panic.
"If you touch me, I'll scream," she said in that same tight whisper. Her heart was beating so quickly that he could hear her blood rushing. "I'll scream and he'll come in here."
"Who will, Amma Lynn?" Loki asked. "Who will come?" he asked, and she shook her head again.
He felt his patience snap.
"Enough of this nonsense," he rasped at her. She jolted away from him, mouth open. He hated to see her so small and pathetic, so weak. So human. His frayed temper parted at the seams, and he snarled at her.
"I said enough. You sit here mewling for nothing!"
"Go to hell," she snapped, and kicked out with one leg. He grabbed her foot and she froze, sucking in a sharp breath and going rigid. He felt as though he could fracture her down the middle, a glass statuette in the shape of a small, dark mortal.
"Ornery little thing," he said, and she flinched and looked away. "Why do you fear me so?"
"Why shouldn't I?" she asked. She sounded resigned. "Haven't you hurt me enough?"
"I've apologized, I think," he said. He hadn't, and he likely never would. He was not one to suffer regrets. She was picking at her toes, an odd sort of habit that brought stranger memories. A world coated in ice, and a small blind mortal who still defied him.
"Do you remember when you strangled me?" she asked. Apparently his memories were shared.
"That was a long time ago," he said.
"Not so long, for me," Lynn said. "Two years at most. It doesn't feel as long as it was." She glanced at him. "I still dream about it. And…other things."
She shuddered. He did not miss the way her arms and legs shielded her body.
"I will not hurt you, Amma Lynn," Loki said. Gentle, so gentle. She looked so very tired. "And Thanos is not here."
She closed her eyes. "He looked like you when he – he threatened – he looked like you, and the others. And Mr. Turner…I never told anyone that."
She sounded confused at her outburst. Loki knew what this was; as her body came down from the effects of panic, she was left with a drunken sort of sensation which loosened her tongue and made her mind malleable. She would agree to nearly anything now, he knew, if he phrased it carefully enough.
He reached to replace the blanket around her shoulders, and warmed the cloth with a gentle spell. She sighed, and her eyelids drooped. It would not be long now.
"I don't hate you," Lynn said. Her words weren't quite slurred, but they weren't quite clear. "I should, I think, but I don't. Isn't that strange?"
She had never forgotten that he was dangerous, and would forever remain dangerous. The thought made him smile.
"I am very charming," Loki said. "I have perfected the skill. Won't you lie down now, Amma Lynn? Rest is sure to come if you do."
"Don't tell," she said as she laid back at his command. "Don't tell anyone. If you do I'll never hear the end of it."
"I am most accomplished at secret-keeping," he said. He stood and pressed at the corners of the blanket to ensure she was covered entirely. She watched him with blown pupils, and he suspected she was halfway asleep already.
"I'm trusting you," she whispered.
"You know the folly in that," he said. "Rest now, Amma Lynn."
Lynn closed her eyes and turned slightly; her breathing evened, and she slept.
"Heimdall," he said into the dark, "not one word."