Less than an hour later, Loki sits on the edge of the bed in a sparsely furnished apartment and stares at the bank of windows. The day is bright and beautiful.
"What just happened to me?" He can hardly process everything. He can feel time acting on his body. He cannot feel that connection he once had directly to the energy that binds all living thing- the tendrils of the World Tree, the Great Ash. And staring at the concrete, steel, and stone world beyond the glass, he feels even more disoriented. He does not belong anywhere. What started as numbness and disbelief turns to incredible crushing sadness.
There is a knock on the door and he bids whomever it is to enter. Anyone is better than spending time with his own thoughts, even if that anyone is Midgardian. He catches himself. He is like them now. The thought is crushing. His visitor is one of the women- not the one he encountered a few years before, but one with long dark hair.
Her voice is melodic, her accent intriguing, "I thought perhaps you could use some company."
"You speak differently than they do." It is impolite, he knows, but it is also the only thing he can think of through the weight of his circumstance.
"I was not born in this country and another language is my first."
"Do you have a name?"
"Wanda."
"You already know mine."
She leans on the bedroom doorframe, "Yes, but you did not have the chance to introduce yourself. So if you wish..."
"Loki. My name is Loki. The one thing he did not take from me."
"Would you like someone to talk to?"
"I do not know." She sits on the floor beside his bed, cross-legged, and waits, "In the past day, I have been cast out of the realm I grew up in, thrown away by the man I once called 'Father', had my life shortened, and had my magic ripped from my heart- I can feel its absence with every beat. I do not know what I can possibly say... Have you ever felt your own body dying, Wanda? I can. I can feel myself aging. Every second. Five thousand years to a mere hundred at absolute best, changed in an instant."
"That must feel terrible."
"Not compared to knowing that you have no place in this world or any other."
"How do you know that you have no place in this world, having only been here a day?"
He sighs, "I cannot. That would simply be impossible."
"I once believed I absolutely could not live without my brother. Then he was killed and I have found that while it is difficult, it is possible. Perhaps you will also find that the impossible is merely the difficult, something to be conquered one day at a time."
"Thank you. But I think I need to rest now. I spent last night shivering, naked in a desert."
She stands, "Of course- that is a terrible way to arrive in a new land. I hope you rest well and that when you wake, things seem a little less dismal."
She leaves, and he falls back on the bed, easily dropping into sleep. But when he wakes that evening, things are no easier. They are worse. Loki bathes and stares in the mirror at his naked body and is ready to cry. Nothing about it feels right. In Asgard, he would simply change his shape. He would become she, and she would don flowing silk gowns and plait her hair. It was no secret that the youngest Odinson was fluid and was to be addressed as either Loki the man or Loki the woman depending on the day. And some day she or he was interchangeable, as Loki would rest somewhere in between, a body bearing slender curves and fine features, but no distinct sex.
As Loki stares in the mirror, she frantically searches for the way to shift into her other self. But this, too, is gone. She dresses and drops to his bed in despair.
"I hate this. Why did he not execute me?"
She returns to the bathroom and rifles through the cabinets until she finds a shaving kit. The razor looks sharp enough. She pries the blades from it. If the All-Father would not do the job, she will. Stealing this from her is the last straw.
Floors above, Tony and Steve argue about the merits of anonyminity while Sam tweaks the mechanics of his wings. James talks philosophy with Vision and Natasha listens. Wanda sits near the security monitors. She glances at Loki's feed and wonders what he is doing.
"Nat? A moment?" Natasha joins her, "Why is it no one else will watch him?"
"Because most of us don't really care what he does. He did try to kill us."
"And will you tell me what he is doing? The picture is too small."
"Looks like he's messing with a razor."
Wanda jumps from her stool, "Oh god...tell the others."
"Tell them what?"
But Wanda is already running. The elevators are too slow, so she leaps down the stairs.
Natasha watches as Loki returns to the bed and positions the blade, "Oh fuck." She calls to the others, "Guys, we've got a problem."
Wanda blows the door in and stumbles into Loki's apartment as the blade digs deep into flesh, "Stop!" She grabs the blade and tosses it on the floor, pressing her thumb above the cut to try to slow the bleeding, raising his wrist above his chest.
"Just let me go, please..."
"No." She calls to whomever is listening, "Send help!"
"Don't, actually." Loki lays back on the bed, "Leave me be."
"No." She keeps the wound elevated, "Why?"
"You would not understand."
"You cannot know that."
"Stop trying to save me."
Steve runs in the room, "A doctor's on the way. Tony's on the phone with Thor."
"Why did you have to call him?" Loki whispers, eyes closed.
"What happened?"
Wanda answers, "Too much at once. Sit, but let him rest. No questions."
Steve sits on the edge of the bed away from all the blood and waits, watching her adjust her grip and listening to her talk, "I, too, have been to the dark places in my heart. They are hard to return from, but return from them we can. It is no shame to name them, or to let them consume you for a time. Right now, I simply ask that you focus on my voice and live. Breathe in, breathe out. One second at a time."
She continues like this- gentle reassurances, a steady and calm presence as Loki's blood seeps between her fingers. She does not seem to notice. Every once in a while Loki takes a deep breath and she coaxes until she hears a second. A medical team arrives, loads their gurney, and whisks their patient to the building's surgical centre. Wanda stays close with Steve near by until she is told she must leave.
He gestures to one of the large sinks, "You might want to wash up."
It is only then that she notices just how much blood she is wearing, "Yes. I should." She scrubs her arms and then stares at her clothes, "I should also change." She hesitates.
"I'll stay while you do."
With a quick nod, she hurries to her apartment.
When she returns, Loki is stitched, bandaged, and sedated; Steve sits beside the bed, "Did he say why?"
"No. But does it surprise you? His entire world has changed in less than a day, the identity he had stripped from him. And it is overwhelming. Did you feel no sense of despair when you returned from the ice? No tearing at your heart when you realized that the world you knew was entirely gone?"
"A little. But there was nothing I could do about it, so I just dealt with it and moved on."
"Loki has lost his long life, his magic- pieces of his identity since his very birth. Perhaps that has hurt too deeply to simply move on from."
"Maybe. Why are you so willing to help the guy? You just met him, and he did try to invade New York with an alien army."
"And I released the Hulk on an African city. Once your enemy, now your friend."
"You think he's going to become our friend?"
"I think there is hope for everyone."
"Fair enough." He pats her shoulder, "Make sure you get some rest. Don't stay up all night keeping vigil." He stands and walks to the door.
"Thank you. Goodnight, Captain." She smilies- a teasing smile, one that knows he is always the leader, looking out for everyone, even when he isn't in uniform.
"Goodnight, Witch. And I mean that about staying up. You need your rest."
"Of course. I will sleep." He knows she will, even if it is only a few hours. Wanda does not lie, even if she omits the truth. She settles in for the long night, dozing off in the uncomfortable chair by Loki's bed.