A/N: So, writers block and school combine as poorly as I remember... But, new chapter! I decided I really did not want to write another "OMG I'm sick and raving" chapter (been there, done that. It's not much fun... for me, and therefore for you too, imo, because then I write crap.) So. I started a bit later in the action :)
II.
Loki had always been a terror when sick, and this time was no exception. At first he had done little else than moan while his fever ran its course, and Thor had stayed by his brothers side. But, as soon as Loki was aware enough to realize Thor was hovering, the trickster chased him off with harsh words.
That was why Thor was in the yard chopping wood. Being so sedentary had made him restless, and he wanted to do something for the farm family who had shown them such hospitality. Thor only slowly realized what terrible guests they had been. While Loki's fever burned, he had eyes for little else, and Sif gave him a poor report of his conduct.
His mind had been much like the sickroom, tormented by his brother's delirious ravings and stuffy to the point of choking. Out in the crisp autumn air, scented with dry leaves and the coming frost, Thor felt his head begin to clear. The rhythmic swing of the axe was comforting, the physical exertion giving him a clarity of thought he was usual incapable of while sitting still. Thor was finally able to unravel the thoughts that had troubled him through Loki's fever.
The warriors three and Sif had not understood the protectiveness and lingering sense of guilt that had glued him to Loki's bedside, and Thor began to regret some of the harsh rebuffs he had given to their entreaties for him to rest. In his delirium, Loki's tongue had wandered over subjects that would have left him mortified, had their friends learned of it. His childhood fears, ramblings over strange encounters, which Thor could not tell whether they were real or imaginary. Sometimes he spoke no words at all, only incomprehensible strings of syllables. Thor wished to save his brother the embarrassment.
Beyond that, Loki occasionally seemed to touch upon the events that had lead to this disaster, but never enough for Thor to remember that night in its entirety. All he remembered was the desperate need to draw his brother close before he drifted away, the feeling once again clutching his heart the same way his hand had gripped Loki's.
Thor tried to imagine what offence he could have committed that would cause Loki to shut him out so completely. It wasn't until he brought the axe down to split the final piece of wood that the answer came to him. Much like that morning, Loki had pushed him away when he got too close. They must have been gotten very cozy for Loki to shun him so completely. It was a development in his brother Thor was having difficulty understanding.
Wiping the light sweat from his brow, Thor began to stack the split logs underneath the awning attached to the side of the house. The work had not been difficult, but even this close to winter the midday sun was warm. The farmer's wife told him before he began chopping that she was preparing a soup. It should be done by now, and perhaps he could take some in to Loki and placate his brother's ill humor.
It was dim in the small bedroom room, the single window letting in only a little square of light. Thor had tracked its course as the days went by during his brother's delirium; the path it traced on the floor never seemed to reach all the way to the bed. Loki was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard, his face in shadow.
"I have brought you some broth," said Thor, hoping Loki's mood had improved.
"I could smell it cooking. A peace offering, then?" said Loki coolly, without revealing any emotion.
Thor blushed; embarrassed to be so easily caught out, although Loki's ability to divine his motives as if they were transparent was nothing new. Of course, Thor was never one to hide. "Yes," he confessed, setting the tray with the bowl down in front of his brother, "Kaya, the farmers wife, said it was ready."
The tray had feet so it could sit on the bed across Loki's lap. Loki paused for a moment, making a great show of considering the soup, before carefully taking his first sip. Thor wondered, not for the first time, why Loki felt so compelled never to appear to accept something without reservation.
Thor resisted the urge to tell his brother to just give over and eat the excellent broth, and instead spoke, starting with what had irritated his brother that morning. "I am sorry we had words earlier, brother, but I still do not understand why you were so upset with me—why you do not want others to know of your deeds in the forest."
He waited for a reply, but when Loki continued to silently sip his soup, Thor felt himself becoming frustrated. "Why do you not answer?"
Loki paused and gave him a withering stare, "Do you wish me to speak, or do you wish me to eat? I cannot to both at once."
Thor growled and turned away. Loki was bating him, again.
The view out the window reminded Thor of his morning spent chopping wood. His brother would have scoffed if he knew. But Loki did not know, and some of the contentedness seeped back into Thor and gave him the rare strength to have patience with his willful brother.
For a moment Loki caught his eye and then began to eat his broth with deliberate slowness. Thor's newfound resolve quickly began to fray, "Brother."
Loki merely responded with a wicked smile.
"Come now, brother, why hide the tale?" Thor attempted approach the subject again, "One would think you would relish the chance to brag about how you saved my hide!"
The change in Loki's mood was instant, and he snapped, "Thor, you do not understand how it will appear to others! What the fools will say."
"What could they possibly say?"
"I do not know if you simply lack any skill in observation, or if your skull is too thick to grasp the obvious. Thor," and Loki looked pained, as if the words were knives that cut as they were spoken, "I was wounded severely across my back. No matter what the circumstance, it is a coward's wound."
"None would dare make such an accu—"
"To your face! But they will think it, and laugh about it far from your hearing."
"I would tell them the truth. Anyone low enough to think otherwise is below consideration!"
"It would make no difference," Loki seemed suddenly exhausted as he sagged back against the pillows, all the fight draining out of him.
Thor pressed anyway, "Why not?"
And Loki gave his brother one of those piercing looks, as if he were trying to read into Thor's soul, before he decided to speak, "Because they will believe you are merely covering for me, a kindly lie meant to save face."
Thor scowled, "Loki… you have too little faith in others."
"And you have too much."
They were quite for some time, eyes averted, before Loki spoke, "I do not ask you to understand why I wish what happened to remain between us and… the present company, but brother, please, respect my wish not to speak of it."
Thor felt his frown slowly relaxing back into a neutral expression, not realizing he'd been holding the same scowl until he released it.
"As you wish, brother."
A feeling of exhaustion settled on Thor once he agreed. He noticed for the first time the deep shadows under Loki's eyes, even as his dark haired brother held himself stiffly, arms crossed over his chest. Deciding the moment of truce was a good time to leave before they got into another squabble, Thor took up the now cool tray of soup. Loki had only managed to eat half.
"Do you need anything else?"
"No. Just rest," said Loki, closing his eyes, and thus the conversation.
Somehow, they had once again fought without coming any closer to discussing that night, as Thor wished.
He quietly left the room. Perhaps Sif and the others would soon return from their hunt with fresh game for dinner.
A/N: This chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, originally, but I couldn't decide where to start, and added a scene with Sif, and finally decided to break it up. Next we get the healer!
Comments are always welcome, and many thanks for the faves and alerts!