Disclaimer: I still don't own Marvel.

But Bob is all mine!

And a good friend of mine gave me a ,Loki necklace. If you read this thank you!

Chapter Four

Loki's sleep was a deep one, caused by the pure exhaustion of his body and the emotional strain of the day. His body shivered and he shook during a dreamless slumber. A small layer of cardboard was the only thing separating him from the soft earth beneath him. Darkness fell outside and the midnight hour passed without him even being aware of it. Other drifters that resided in the area went to their respective "homes"—shacks made from leftover cardboard, plastic, and sometimes plywood, constructions held by rope or the sheer willpower of their owners. The lucky ones had a tent or a sleeping bag, but most made due with whatever they could find. This world is a cruel one for those that have nothing left.

The night was dry and the dark sky was clear of clouds. It would have been a beautiful vision, filled with a bright glowing moon to illuminate the sky, had the city lights not blinded people from its natural radiance. City dwellers rarely had the occasions or pleasure of seeing such rare sights.

The beggar called Bob was still awake the early morning hours. He was a short and stout man. Age and experience took the hairs from his head, but he still had a thick, black moustache growing under his round nose. He was one of the eldest drifters that stayed in this area.

Once he had a family. A home to go back to with eagerly awaiting loved ones. A fireplace to warm his hands during the winter and a large green garden filled with neighbours during the summer. Kids from the neighbourhood played on swings with his son, happy and smiling. Bob used to be content. He was a blissfully happy man, but terribly naïve.

His wife, a woman named Lauren, was his high school sweetheart. They married early during college. After that, Bob got a decent paying job, slowly working his way up the company ladder. Eventually he became assistant manager and bought a good home for his family. When Lauren told him she was pregnant, he was ecstatic. A young boy was born with fair hair and soft, light eyes. Blinded by his love, Bob never saw what everyone else had over these years - the boy did not look like him at all.

Fate stabbed him in the back with a bunch of rusty old knives, the kind that psychotic killers use in horror films. The company went bankrupt, followed by a foreclosure on his home. His wife divorced him and she and his son went to live with the birth father. Betrayal was a frightful thing, but nothing could stop him from seeing the young boy. That is, until Lauren got a restraining order. Finally, the last thing he could cling on—his fatherly love for a young boy named Steven—was lost. Feelings of shame and regret ate at his core. Angry at the world, he shouted drunken obscenities for days.

He recognised some of those feeling in the foreign man he'd met earlier today. A man seemingly consumed with confusion and madness. He had seen him act like a perfect, smiling gentleman, one that would turn grown women into fawning teenagers. Yet an arrogant air surrounded the man and he acted like a spoiled child when something did not go his way. So he'd given the nameless man a nickname. They all had one down here. Your Highness.

Too bad for his Highness, the owner of the doughnut shop was an overprotective and greedy father that both hated men that went after his daughter and bums, beggars, and people otherwise down on their luck, what Dirk he frequently called scum of the earth. Bob hoped that with some food in his Highness' stomach and a decent night's rest, the man would recover from the previous day. His injuries seemed superficial, but Bob had learned over the years that some things are much deeper than the eye can see.

Loki twisted in his sleep, unaware that outside a person worried for him. Sweat rolled down his cheek and he sank into a fever-induced dream, a nightmare. One of the many benefits of being a god was an incredibly fast healing time. Humans, on the other hand, were slow to heal, and Loki was about to find this out the hard way. When he woke, his head felt like Mjolnir had been banging on it the entire night. Heat radiated from the skin surrounding his shoulder wound. On top of everything, he was sleeping in a box!

He knew that a person gave him some sort of sustenance the other day, but he could not recall any events after that. Perhaps it was wise to pay this person a visit. Loki seemed to require further "sustenance" for his body. He recalled the man's name—"Bob." It sounded like a name humans would give a pet, but Loki could use a worthy servant.

Gods, crawling out of a box was humiliating! Loki stood up, still trying to have some air of dignity. He made a poor attempt to get the dirt out his hair. "Where is the one called Bob?"

A short man looked his way. The man's face was dominated by a big, black moustache and a bright smile. "Glad to see you're awake, Your Highness. How's your head?"

Loki realised that lying would do him no good since he didn't have the slightest clue as to how humans cured minor wounds and illnesses. "It feels like a battle axe cleaved my skull in two."

Bob let out a loud laugh at this and a man he did not notice earlier was also grinning widely. "Oh well, you're awake and that's what counts. It would've been a bigger problem if ya stayed asleep." He motioned to the unknown man beside him. "Your Highness, this man here is Hank Thompson, but we all call him Jack Daniels for obvious reasons."

Jack Daniels made a salute while holding up a bottle with warm, yellow-looking fluid inside. The man took a large sip and—"BUUUURP! Yeah, pleased to meet you, Highness. I'd spare you a sip but this small thing here has to last the whole day." Loki could smell the reek of the man's alcohol-stained clothes from afar.

"Ah boy, don't mind good old Jack here." He sipped his drink again. "This is me drowning my sadness with something I love. And that's all there is to it." How pathetic. Be it Asgard or Midgard, alcohol always flowed freely for those with no self-control. Loki remembered the many feasts held in the royal palace and how everyone partook generously of the drink. He never held any joy for such things or the actions that resulted because of it.

The warm rays of the sun hit his body and he became aware of sweat trailing down his back. The clothing he wore felt dirty and wet. A growing need to change into something clean arose. "I am in urgent need of a bath and change. Tell me where such things can be acquired." Bob glanced at Jack Daniels with surprised look his face, then they both started snickering, which quickly turned into loud laughter.

Loki narrowed his eyes. "How dare you laugh at my need!"

Bob wiped away a tear as he moved to pat Loki's good shoulder. Loki reacted quickly and took a step backward, avoiding the touch. "Oh, Your Highness. We are all in need of a bath and some clean clothes. We would also prefer to have jobs and housing." Jack Daniels looked down sadly at his empty bottle as Bob spoke. "But I fear the only things we have are a few run-down shacks and boxes to call home. Sure, a few of us got jobs after the rampage in the city. They needed cleaners and builders, but most of us are too far gone to be accepted back into society."

Loki saw the man look at his wound.

"I fear we can't help you with your headache. How's the arm, lad?"

Loki could not decipher the man's goal. He had nothing to give, so Bob could not obtain anything from him. Neither did these people have anything to provide except for a box and some soup. The bright sunlight shone in Loki's eyes and he felt dizzy. His head thumped loudly to the beat of his own heart. If the humans here could not help him then he had to keep moving. These people were the lowest, and he was certain he could do better.

"All I require is some food. After that I will find m—" The thumping feeling in his head increased. He blinked rapidly in the heavy sunlight. He felt hot, tired, and thirsty as hell. A faint feeling crept over him and he wobbled unsteadily on his feet. Suddenly, Loki sank to the ground and ended up on his knees. "Apparently, I'm not as well as I thought."

Loki saw panic spread across their faces, but it was not caused by fear of him. It was fear for him.

"Don't overwork yourself, sonny. Jack, go get a wet towel and see if someone has a spare shirt." Bob gave Loki a metal cup filled with cold water. Loki drank it quickly and more greedily than he'd ever want to admit.

Once emptied, all Loki could say was, "More, now…" He breathed heavily. Perhaps some kindness would be in order. "If you would, please?" A refilled cup was given to him.

"Don't fret, Your Highness. Water is on the house." The reference was not understood, but Loki figured he would not waste his breath asking. Mortals and most of their quotes were lost on him.

For a brief moment he was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not notice Bob's hand until it was too late. The beggar laid a hand on his forehead and in that instant, Loki snapped. "Do not dare touch me, you insect!" Loki slapped the hand away and tried getting up, but it was no use. Bob held him in place.

"Stop moving, Your Highness. You are burning up with fever. Say Jack, are you done yet?"

It dawned on him these humans were actually trying to help him. He was too weak to fight them or refuse the help. All he could do was sit there and take what they had to give, whether it was unwanted or not. Jack Daniels came back carrying a piece of cloth and a dark blue shirt with a grey logo printed on the back.

"I'm here, Bob. I hear ya. Took me awhile to convince Mike to let go of one of his shirts."

"Ok, sonny. You'll have to get rid of those dirty things. Seems like your wound has gotten infected. It needs to be cleansed and you need a clean shirt."

Hesitantly, Loki removed his leather coat. These men were not healers, but he knew he needed something clean. The words Bob spoke rang true in his head. His wound needed more attention than it was currently being given. After removing the coat, he could see that the purple bruising had spread. The edges of the wound were an angry red and the dry crust had opened in several places. The air felt cool against the heat of his wound. He undid his shirt and Bob made a gesture to the other man.

"Come on, I know you still have a small spare. We need it for disinfection."

Jack looked sullen, but reached into his coat. He removed a small metal bottle from an inner pocket and unscrewed the lid. "At least it will go to good use." He handed it over to Bob, who was not smiling anymore. The man had a stern look of concentration on his face.

"It's going to sting, but it needs to be done, Your Highness."

Loki clenched his teeth, swallowing a hiss as the wound was doused with Jack's alcohol. It hurt like hell and the pressure being placed on it didn't ease the pain any.

"This will have to do for now," Bob stated, inspecting the wound. "Put on your new shirt, Highness."

Loki took the shirt, decidedly not complaining about its hideous blue colour, and proceeded to pull it over his head. Sometimes need was more important than pride. Loki did not say any words of gratitude. He just mustered up his remaining strength and took his coat. "I will rest," was all he said before he took off with slow, steady steps to his box.

Great, I'm already referring to it as my box. What a pathetic excuse for housing.

The men did not follow him. Perhaps they noticed the change in his demeanour and decided it was best to leave him alone. He did not care. The one named Bob was tearing a few pieces from his old black shirt while trying to explain something to the drunk one, Jack. Loki figured he could try and salvage his coat. It was in poor condition, but he doubted he would complain about it come nightfall.

He no longer felt anger. Perhaps he was too tired or hurt. Instead, he felt a sadness hidden deep inside. He loathed himself for feeling like this; only weak-hearted people mustered up emotions like that. He sat down in his makeshift shelter. The sun dimmed and the air became cooler. The shade the box provided from the sun made his head feel slightly dull, but the throbbing numbed to a small, lingering presence. He sat there for a while, seemingly incapable of any coherent and clear thought. After some time had passed, there was a soft tap against the cardboard.

"I would knock, Your Highness, but these things don't have doors." Bob peered under the flap of his box.

Loki glared at the entrance. "Leave me be."

"No can do. We boiled the strips we tore off your shirt earlier. They're clean now and your wound needs further attention. If it gets dirty again, your predicament will only worsen."

Loki hated others for being right. "Hand them to me. I can take care of it myself." He was handed the bandages. The fabric still felt a bit wet, but it was warm and clean. A mug of soup was also handed over.

"You can keep the mug, but that is the only bit of soup we can spare, Your Highness," Bob sighed. He knew that this man was in some state of denial. God only knew what this guy had been through.

"It's Locke. Locke Ladislav."

Bob raised an eyebrow. He had not expected the young man to tell him his name. "Thank you for telling me your name, Locke." Bob gave the box a pat. "Now rest well and sweat out your fever."

The broth Bob handed him was watery and had some pieces of onions and carrots. Nonetheless, it warmed up his body and filled his empty stomach. Before he knew it, he was sound asleep.

The next two days were roughly the same. Loki slept most of the time, his body needing the state of relaxation to heal. He was given soup, a piece of stale bread if there were any leftovers, and a bottle of water that could be refilled at the nearby gas station. On the third day, he felt alert enough to get out and go see his surroundings. The makeshift shelters were built between two walls under a large bridge. There was a waterway close by, but nobody used it for bathing or drinking. The water was an unnatural dark brown colour and it smelled even worse than the man nicknamed Jack Daniels.

On the fourth day, Bob invited him over to the fire. The sun was down and everybody shared a plate. Somebody had managed to get some meat for the soup. For them, this was a feast. Loki learned the names of the other drifters that took residence in this area aside from Bob and Jack Daniels. He did not feel like socialising with them. As soon as he was back in shape he would leave. He would go and…

Go where actually? Loki could have given himself an inner face palm. Who was he kidding? Nobody would help him. He was an invisible vagrant with no identification to prove he was anything else. He didn't even have his own name anymore. He'd become Locke Ladislav, though his current "companions" still preferred to call him by his nickname, Your Highness.

They came so close to the truth.

It hurt being here, but there was nowhere else to go, at least no place that would welcome him with open arms. He didn't speak much and the people here left him alone, mostly. Bob talked to him quite frequently, unknowingly giving Loki vast amounts of information concerning the inner workings of the city. The man did not seem to mind the tone of authority Loki had in his voice when he spoke or maybe the man just ignored it.

"So, do you still want that bath?" Loki looked up at Bob's query in surprise.

"By the Nine, I desire it. But…just having a desire doesn't make it happen." Of course he wanted to be clean, but he did not dare to touch any of the surrounding water. The only clean water here was reserved for drinking or to be used in food.

"There is a nearby shelter for the homeless. They have this system with a list. Every now and then we get the chance to have a decent warm meal and hot cup of coffee. But most of all, we get to take a real shower and a night's rest on a mattress." Bob stood up and cracked his neck. "I took the liberty of putting my name and yours on the list last week and, if you are up for it, you get to have that bath you so much desire. Well, not a bath, really, but at least you will end up clean." The man's moustache moved as he gave Loki a bright smile.

"I will accept this offer."

"Ha! Thought you would, Your Highness. Now come on. Let's be off!"

On their way to the shelter, Loki caught himself with a slight smile on his face. Not a fake smile but an actual real smile. For reasons unknown, this man had helped him unselfishly, not asking or demanding anything in return. He had given him what little food and shelter there was available. His wound was cleaned and now healing. Most of the bruising had faded. Even now, without a doubt, the man had put down "Locke's" name so that he could have a moment of tranquillity and decent sustenance. Loki felt unexpectedly grateful. He wanted to express his thanks to the man for what he had done over the last few days.

Bob crossed the street and was talking to a young woman at the door to a building. Loki assumed they had arrived at the shelter and started to cross the street after Bob. He would express his feelings of gratitude. Not many earned a 'thank you' from his mouth, especially humans. This one would be a rare exception.

"Bob?"

The other man turned around to face Loki, his smile slowly fading off his face.

A car screeched loudly. The last thing Loki saw was a speeding automobile swinging uncontrollably in his direction.

Did i mention i love cliffhangers, because i do.

Thank you for reading!

Feel free to leave me some soul-food

thanks to sinister banana and swordmistress for beta reading