Waking before the sun the next morning, I guessed I had slept for about three hours. In my sleep, my mind had conjured up images from the falling building. Images of the tumbling rubble, shattered glass, crying children wrapped in their mother's arms and the chunk of building that had knocked me out flashed before me, and all I could hear was the screaming of the family I was trying so desperately to save. I woke up sweating and struggling against my blankets, weighed down by something that pinned my arms to my mattress. I was shouting and crying in the dark of my room, afraid that I was still trapped in the rubble.
A soothing voice reached my ears over my own shouting, and slowly I began to register where I was.
"Kite! Calm down! You're safe, its okay. You're at home, you were dreaming. Shh…" A deep, rumbling voice filled my ears, and I ceased my struggling as I saw Thor stood by my bed, his warm hands wrapped around my wrists, pressing them into the bed so I wasn't able to hurt myself. Breathing heavily, I began to sob, turning my face away from his concerned stare. I hated that I was crying. Hated that he could see. Hated that I had such an awful reason to cry. Between the sobs I tried to muffle with my pillow, I begged him to leave.
"I will not leave while you are in pain." Came the calm reply, and in my upset, his caring angered me.
"Get out! I don't want… I just… You can't… See me cry…" He had released my wrists and I had turned to bury my face in the pillow, so he heard me only until I said 'You can't'. He laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, steadying me through my tears.
"I can't what? Kite?" He asked, and I mumbled my last three words a second time. He sighed. I felt the mattress give as he sat down behind me, and his hand rubbed soothing circles into my side.
"It is not a weakness, you know." He rumbled, his deep voice anchoring me to the present, driving away thoughts of my most recent tragic failure. I sniffed disbelievingly, and he grasped my hand, tugging me to sit upright and face him.
"I was always taught that to show your feelings was one of the greatest weaknesses you could give yourself." I mumbled as he wrapped a heavy arm around my shoulder. I leaned into his chest and smelled his unique scent of leather, mint and something distinctly Thor. He frowned.
"Whoever taught you that was wrong. Your feelings are your strengths. Without them, you would be nothing but one of those machines that Stark appears to have built his home out of." He chuckled, and I smiled despite myself.
"I saw them, Thor. I keep seeing them. Those kids, just screaming as their mother held them and cried. I saw the rubble, crushing me, pinning me down and cutting off the air. It's too much. I think about them every second I am awake and now they're in my head when I finally let myself sleep. I don't know how to get away from it." I confessed, and his arm around my shoulders pulled me closer to him.
"You do not get away. You understand that you could not have changed what happened, and then you let it go. You certainly do not hurt yourself any further by attacking a leather bag for four hours." He murmured, gently taking my newly bandaged hands in his, gently running his fingers over the bandages that padded my knuckles. I clenched my fists, hissing as my knuckles protested. Thor released me from his embrace and stood.
"You should eat. I have not seen you take a single bite since we pulled you from the rubble." He said, offering me his hand. I bit my lip and wrinkled my nose.
"I can't. I can't keep it down. This is the first… the first death that I caused. I feel too awful to stomach anything right now." I mumbled, shuffling a little further across the bed, out of his arm's reach. He frowned.
"Kite. Please, eat. That building collapsing was what killed those people, not you. It is not your fault. Just try to eat, for me?" He asked, but I just faced away from him and curled back into my bed, scrunching my body as small as it would allow, despite the stabbing pain in my middle. I heard him heave a sigh, then pause, as if he was going to speak again, but footsteps and the click of my door as he opened it and shut it behind him soon followed.
Feeling particularly guilty, I hugged my knees to my chest, biting down hard on my lower lip as the gash to my abdomen screamed in protest. I sniffed, trying to stop myself from crying any more as I closed my eyes and slipped back into an unhappy sleep.
A few hours later, around noon, I was woken by the delicious smell of chicken soup, and though I tried to pretend to be asleep, the hunger in me was brought back in full force, and I struggled reluctantly into a sitting position. Thor smiled from his position in the doorway, and carried a tray of soup, bread and water into the room, setting it on my thighs. I frowned, suddenly feeling ill at the thought of swallowing food, but a warm hand came to rest on my ankle, and I decided that attempting to eat couldn't hurt me any worse. I gingerly raised a spoonful of the liquid to my mouth, and swallowed its contents, gagging a second later as I tried to keep it down. Thor rubbed gentle circles into the bare skin of my ankle, and I stomached four more small mouthfuls of the soup before dropping the spoon back onto the tray.
Thor gave me a concerned, disappointed look, and I wiped the back of my hand across my lips, mumbling that I couldn't eat any more, that I felt sick. He stared at me for a few seconds more before gently removing the tray from my lap and setting it on my bedside table. He lightly gripped my shoulder and encouraged me to drink the water he pushed into my hand. I took a few gulps, half emptying the glass, and then passed the glass back to my friend. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall.
Thor, glad that I had some food in me, though not as much as he'd have liked, smiled and pressed a friendly kiss to my temple before gathering up the tray and tiptoeing noisily away in his Asgardian boots. As the door swung shut I leapt up and emptied my stomach into the en suite toilet, coughing and retching. Damn. I thought I could keep it down. I washed my face and dressed in a baggy tee and a pair of gym shorts.
A quick glance back at my bed let me know that I wouldn't need to sleep again any time soon, so I padded silently on my bare feet out of my door and to the lift, quietly asking JARVIS to take me to the gym, and not to tell anyone where I am for a couple hours, unless there's an emergency. JARVIS tried to discourage me, but when I ignored his protests, he told me that he would alert Stark in exactly one hour as to where I was. I sighed and thanked the AI as the lift door pinged open, and I jogged off to the line of punching bags that were now hung from proper chains from the ceiling.