Baldr had always known his parents were slightly delusional when it came to Loki's condition, but this was a whole new level of crazy.

Sometimes he wondered if it should have been his parents locked up inside the loony bin instead.

He could not believe that they really thought this was going to work, and anger built up inside him at the thought of having to live like last time.

But the issue was, that anger had manifested from a deep fear. What something awful happens again, or someone gets hurt, or worse- Loki gets hurt.

But Baldr ignored what it truly was let himself believe his anger at them all was well-placed. -

Fear was something Loki was familiar with. Fear and pain.

He was afraid of other people, of himself, but most of all the bad people who spoke to him. This fear had filled his mind, and silence became no more than a pipe dream.

There was always too much noise. The people were hurting him, yes, but Loki's thoughts and anxieties swirled around in his head, constantly mixing what was true with the lies. All he had ever wanted was silence.

Now the people were gone, muffled voices under an ocean and all Loki was left with was himself, but he still couldn't find the silence.

Maybe this was how he was always supposed to be.

It had started with him left in the cold, meant to die, but he didn't. Maybe that's where the problem began. Should've listened to what fate had in store. This was who he was now though, a burden to his family, a monster.

That was perhaps the scariest part, although the bad people were gone now, all Loki had left was himself and he had to come face to face with who he really was. Nobody ever did understand him, and now neither did he, this should make him upset, but the thoughts are still turning again and again in his head.

His own personal prison. -

Decorators rushed from one place to another, arranging what would be her son's new bedroom. The wall had been painted a muted icy blue, what she had found out was a rather calming colours. The floor was carpeted and soft to the touch, and a canvas stood in one corner of the room near a huge bay window.

There was a shelf of books and a drawers full of clothes that would last many years.

Frigga couldn't be more happy, that after years of Loki being apart from them then coming back for a short time, he would be at home with them, for hopefully a long time.

She could only hope that Baldr would accept this too. It had been difficult for Baldr but he had to try to understand how hard it had been for Loki, more so than any of them.

Every time she had gone to visit him, he reminded her of how different he was from them, but that did make her think of him any less.

It didn't matter who the wicked people who abandoned him were, he was hers. -

After days had passed with constant check ups and paperwork, the uncertainty and waiting had made the days feel more like years.

When he had first been told Thor was overjoyed, after all he would finally get his brother back.

But as the days went on and the original shock had worn off, it had seemed more like a dream, and despite there being no issues arising- it just didn't feel real.

But now, finally, the day had come to take Loki out of the hospital, and with the day being a Saturday, the whole family was free to go.

And yet Baldr hadn't wanted to give, instead citing some unknown work to get done, stalking off to his room.

However not even Baldr's poorly hidden objections, could quell the joy that was gleaming from his parents, more so than they had in a very long time, and Thor could t blame them- for he too was feeling an excitement like none other as they pulled up to the hospital after hours of driving.

All past anxieties immediately returned though, as he stepped into the shocking white walls of the building, so cool and clean, and yet felt like it was screaming of terrible things that have happened.

He supposed 'if walls could talk' applied pretty well here.

They were escorted to the now familiar waiting room and sat close enough to comfort, but far apart enough for it no to be claustrophobic.

As he waited, Thor let his mind wonder, and began thinking of what they would be doing now if Loki had never gotten ill- something that he would have usually never allowed himself to do- and yet he found himself doing it now. -

Maybe he would have been at home, sitting, waiting for the upincoming football match with Baldr and father.

His mother cooking dinner in the kitchen, a hearty meal for hearty boys she would always say, and then there would be Loki.

Perhaps he would be in his room, studying or writing, or even drawing. More likely however, he would be in the room with them, not in their close vacinity, but close enough to observe from the he sidelines, never wanting the attention on himself.

Thir could picture him now, furiously- yet somehow smoothly- creating an image or story, that would almost definitely be degree-worthy, but never showed off or done out of any desire to look better than anyone.

That was the way Loki was. Always doing things so subtely and quietly, that you would never know if it weren't for the few times he would show his drawings and writings to his parents or the report cards full of astonishing results.

No compliment could ever be given without it being shrugged by off with a bashful smile and- again subtle- dismissal of any praise or reward. -

Thor decided it was time to stop thinking about what could of been now.

Because it wasn't real.

They had to stop chasing dreams and deal with the way things were. But it was hard to stop remembering how much potential he had, and how unfair it had been for such a kind person could have such horribld things happen to him.

A far better person than any of them.

Before he could allow himself any more time to mourn, the blinding spotless door began to open and a collective breath was let out between the tense group.