Author's Note: SURPRISE! EARLY CHAPTER! YOU'RE WELCOME!
=) =) Thank you guys so, SO much for your support. My stomach has felt all warm and fuzzy all week and it helped so much. You guys are the BEST! *hugs each of you tightly*. I feel so loved that I cried. Pathetic, yeah, but I did. :) Thank you!
This chapter is especially dedicated to: Chickenspoon42, butterflydreams (guest), two guests I, unfortunately, do not have a name for, Chocolatespringrolls, The_Fish_Of_Death, ImGrey, Geo, petreparkour, ImperialDragon, ThatOneGuest, Ive_arrived_late, Karma, InBetween, EternalCakeLover, The DestinyWay1000, roo2010, and sandbeeone. THANK YOU!
Thank you everyone else for reading! You're amazing! =)
Warnings for this chapter: Panic attacks, some description of injury, and minor violence.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I got nothing left to prove,
Cause I've got nothing left to lose,
Watch me bare my teeth for you.
-Mikky Ekko "Who Are You, Really?"
Chapter Four:
Everything is so dulled it screams.
His breath is sharp and acidic against his bleeding tongue as hisses rattle out between his teeth. Every inhale only makes the feeling of drowning worse, and further disorients him, causing the pulse of his ribs to be more prominent. He can't breathe, and he can't see.
The only grounding assurance he possess is the fact that he's being crushed; his left side is pressed against the ground as his right bears the weight and sharp pulses of metal and wood digging into his skin.
He can't…
He can't…
What happened?
Where is he?
He can distantly make out the sounds of the building shifting around him and a ring of water. Maybe fire, but the water is protuberant. Pressing. He's wet, but he can't...he doesn't think it's because of the water. Why can't he focus? Something is pressing against his conscious, but he can't breathe enough to understand what it is.
His arm is burning. It's a gasping jolt that refuses to relent. It's pulsing, stinging like someone is slowly driving a thick needle between his muscles. It drives his mind further into the chaotic panic, memories he can't quite grasp reminding him that this much pain means something pressing, painful, but he can't remember.
Breathe.
He can't panic.
He needs to sit still lest he accidentally crush something else important. His ribs are straining his lungs. He's fine. The voices are drawing closer. Louder. With nothing more to do save panic, he listens. Multiple voices are male and he can hear the whir of equipment, and a hacking noise. A woman is speaking rapidly as well, her voice is weighted, but distinct words are lost to him.
But where…
He…
Paaaain.
Sister, that's enough. You're going to kill him, Gamora. Father said we aren't—
He clenches his left fist despite the sharp pain that follows the flaming one, lips pressing together tightly.
Grounding.
He's—here. He's here.
Wherever here is.
Buried.
Is he ever going to get out—the voices. They're still there, and only getting louder. He's going to get out. Breathe—augh! Not that deeply, you alec!
The rubble above him shifts and his chest gasps with relief, a sharp exhale escaping him. More is removed and he hears the sounds of someone exclaiming loudly, then a faint light pours across his frame. It lightens the worst of the disaster around him and from his curled fetal position, he can see the pools of water and glass.
But he can see.
Loki breathes in deeply, sharply, painfully, but he inhales and there is no crushing weight against his ribs. The weight against his legs is released and Loki has a little less than two seconds to process this before a pair of boots lands in his clipped vision.
"Loki!" The voice is drawn in panic. Loki attempts to lift his hand to look up at it, but finds that he can't. A strangled cry tears from his throat and his hand slumps against his face. It doesn't matter to the speaker, they move towards him rapidly, landing on their knees.
A hand, rushed, but gentle, grips his forearm and eases his hand away from his face despite his mewls. He flicks his eyes up.
Hela's figure greets his sight. She's covered in dust and chips from the broken building, her face smudged with dirt. Hair hangs around her face, but it's slick with sweat. Something has happened, and he doesn't—
Thor.
Oh, Norns.
Thor was here.
When Loki—Loki...he doesn't remember. He doesn't know what happened! How can he not remember!? He remembers everything. Where is Thor? Is he hale? Were they attacked? No. That doesn't seem right. They're here for the Accords and Thor took him...took him to see a doctor. A doctor, yes, because his hand kept acting up and spiraling him into panic attacks because the last time he'd been in such constant pain was on the Sanctuary and—
No.
He's not thinking about that.
They went to see Bruce and Tony was there, too, and Bruce tried to fix it and—Loki can't remember anything past that. His memory blackens before a drawn panic as he realized the building was going to crush him.
"Loki!" Hela's voice snaps him back to the present. Her voice is thick with something Loki distantly recognizes for tears. Her hand presses against his face, cupping his cheek as she turns his head towards her, "Come on, come on, can you hear me? Loki? Norns, you idiot, answer or I swear I will—"
Loki gives a light dip of his head, grimacing when his head pulses. Hela's shoulders sag with relief, "Oh, thank the Norns," she whispers, then her hand is frantically moving down to his shoulder, then feeling along his ribs. Loki gasp sharply when her hand makes contact and she stills, then continues her assessment.
His ribs and calves took the worst of the damage; the weight. Everything else just aches.
Thor.
Where is Thor?
Tony? Bruce? Norns, there were more than twenty people in that diner.
"Loki," Hela's voice grounds him again, "hey, focus. We're going to get you out of here. Can you feel your feet?"
It would be a relief not to. He can't get his tongue to work; it's bleeding from where he bit it during the collapse and feels too weak to do anything but flop around his mouth uselessly. He gives another slow nod.
Relief slips into his sister's stance again and she murmurs a quiet bare-worded prayer of thanks, and then turns to the source of the light. It's too painful to look towards, so Loki keeps his gaze firmly rooted on Hela's knees. "He's conscious," Hela calls, "his spine doesn't seem damaged."
Someone calls out something in return and Loki sees a handful of silhouettes stand in front of the light and his chest seizes with irrational terror. It's the Chitauri, he can hear their clicking and the voice of Thanos's children whispering to him and reassuring him and the Other and, and, and, and—
His sedir is sinking towards his fists.
It's freezing.
"—back," Hela warns the silhouettes, "you're making him panic. I'll get him out, get back!" The shadows leave and something dangerously close to a whimper escapes his split lips. Hela's hand rests against his face again, uncomfortable, but ever grounding. "Hey, hey, you're okay. We're going to get you out of here. You'll be fine. You're safe. Breathe, little brother,"
Loki tries, but it hurts.
Hela's hand shifts from his face, "I'm going to pick you up," she warns, "there's healers waiting for us outside. You're going to be fine." Hela's hands shift underneath his shoulders and a grimace of discomfort escapes him before she slides her hands beneath his knees and draws him up off the hard ground. Hela draws him close, her embrace strangely desperate.
Every part of his body immediately resists the movement, and his sister murmurs an apology before moving towards the source of the light. As they get closer, Loki realizes that Hela's face is streaked wet. She's been crying.
Who on the Nine made her cry?
Loki's going to run them through; somewhere that will be slowly fatal.
A stab of pain wracks through him.
...He's going to kill them later.
Loki doesn't know how far they go from the destroyed building, he's mind slips from consciousness like a swaying child and the feeling of Hela's breath is reassuring against his face. Eventually, she sets him on the ground and a low groan escapes him. His eyes attempt to flutter open, but Hela's hand keeps them closed. "Shh," she instructs her voice soft as she takes his aching hand between her own, "don't look. Everything is fine."
Something else prods him and his chest heaves with panic and his hands frost lightly at his agitation; his sedir calls to his aid. Hela's hand squeezes his, "No," she instructs, and how is she so calm, "not yet. It's just healers."
Someone pokes at something and murmurs a few words, but Loki's ears are only functioning properly for Hela. He keeps straining to pick Thor's voice among so many others, but the noise in the background is deafening and he can't pick out the distinct baritone of his older brother. Norns, where is he? Is he hale?
A hand ghosts over his left calf and he flinches. Hela's hand grips his tighter and Loki realizes dully how worried she must be. She never engages in physical contact like this unless something truly awful has happened.
Thor.
Where is Thor!?
"Little brother, they need to set the bones. They're offering a sedative, do you want any?" Hela questions and closes his eyes again when he attempts to open them.
No.
No pharmaceutical.
Please.
He shakes his head rapidly, latching his teeth onto his tongue as the movement disorients him further. He barely registers when the first bone sets, or the others that follow. There's so many hands and he clenches Hela's tightly, trying to keep himself grounded at how much he hates this. They're still speaking rapidly, words that are meaningless to him.
Anything they can't cover he can feel his sedir attempting to heal as it rushes through his bloodstream. It's livened, trying to fix too many areas and it's painful.
The hands eventually draw back after what feels like an eternity, and when Loki blinks his eyes open, he meets no resistance. The sky is dark, but the first streams of a sunset or sunrise are lifting in the distance. Smoke is loosely rising into the air and the thick taste of dirt and blood is strong against his tongue.
Everywhere around him people are rushing, feet pounding in a rhythm that's distracting. There's sirens ringing in the distance and Loki distantly recognizes a handful of the U.N.'s agents.
With some trial, Loki slowly sits up. His ribs ache, but it isn't sharp and Hela's presses a supporting hand to his upper back to keep him upright.
Loki exhales sharply and blinks several times trying to adjust himself before he looks towards Hela. Her face is still clenched with open panic, but Loki sees some of it ease when he meets her pale blue eyes. Loki untangles his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth and asks in a raspy voice he hardly recognizes as his own: "Where's…" he licks his lips, "where's Thor?"
Hela's face tightens infinitesimally, "Alive." At his distressed look, she appends: "The Avengers are watching him, but according to the medic's he's well enough off save a few bruises. Stephen was in the building and managed to catch the worst of the debris when it went down."
...Ah.
Good.
Between lapses of pain and trying to will Thor to move faster, Loki can distantly make out his features sitting at a table alone. Tony had brought up his food and Loki hadn't paid attention to the sorcerer afterwards.
Loki blinks rapidly, trying to focus and looks up at her, "I…I what happened?"
Hela's eyebrows lift with slight surprise, then lower again with concern and her other hand comes to feel along the back of his head. His hair is slick with sweat and feels disgusting, but he's here enough to recognize that she's looking for a bump. He didn't hit his head, he shielded it when he dove for cover.
Hela looks like she's chewing on her lower lip before she answers, "I...according to Thor, you had some sort of "fit", and your sedir reacted. The building came down because of it."
Loki chances a look towards where the diner-not-diner was present and a sickening jolt ripples through him. The building collapsed to its foundation, bits of concrete walls missing or blown off completely as the entire two-story structure remains piled in the hole. He did that on accident.
Accident.
And he can't remember any of it.
Tony drops his hand on the table and then there's nothing.
What is wrong with him?
He—
"Loki!" He whips his head to the left in recognition and barely sees Thor in the corner of his eye before his brother crashes into him with a enveloping hug. Loki's body screams with protest, but he returns the embrace with the same desperation. Thor. Thor. Alive. Here. Safe. Loki didn't kill him.
Hela murmurs something and Thor draws back, gripping his shoulders, eyes rapidly searching him. "Are you well?"
Loki gives a grimace in response because his tongue is still refusing to work properly. It's still wet. Bloody. Painful. He quickly scans his older brother. Thor looks as tired as Hela and he's covered in a few more scratches, but seems otherwise unharmed. His body is tight, though, as if he's hiding pain.
"Point Break!" Tony exclaims behind Thor and Loki lifts his gaze to see Tony and the rest of the Avengers moving towards them. Tony's expression is frustrated and he comes to a halt next to Thor. "You are supposed to be laying down."
"I already told you that I feel fine." Thor argues, "You're not on your obligatory bed rest, either."
Steve's expression flashes, "This isn't a joke, Thor."
"Do I look to be in a gaming mood?" Thor challenges.
"Stop," Hela demands before they can further the argument, and her hand settles a little firmer against his back when his ribs flare with pain. "You can stay here if you're going to be calm. Loki needs a stress-free environment and you biting at each other's heads isn't going to create that. If you want to argue, take it somewhere else; I'm certain that Stephen would love to babysit."
That shuts the Avengers up and Thor's expression flickers.
Loki worries his lip between his teeth and attempts to sit up a little straighter. He meets Natasha's eyes evenly, because he knows that she won't lie to protect him. That collapse was not small, and he's not stupid, nor ignorant to the damage that can be made on mortals from that. "Was there any quietuses?" His voice feels pathetically small. Natasha's expression flickers with confusion—sometimes he forgets that her native tongue is not English. Nor has she been speaking it for as long as him.
To accommodate this, Loki adds, a little louder: "Deaths."
"Brother," Thor starts, his voice soft in a nearly breathless sigh.
Natasha's expression dissembles. "Not on sight," she answers evenly. His stomach twists, a weight settling in his hands, "Everyone who wasn't enhanced is in the hospital near here; two in critical condition and the doctors don't think they'll pull through. Stephen managed to catch a majority of everyone who wasn't enhanced, but the collapse buried everyone."
The collapse.
His collapse.
When will you stop?
Was crashing the Helicarrier not enough?
Loki flicks his gaze back towards the hole, attempting to gather himself enough to get to his feet. People there are still people there. People that he could be killing because he couldn't—because he had another fit and he won't stop. Norns, he really is mad, isn't he? He's heard dozens of stories of the insane who blackout and do such like this. He's losing himself.
Drowning.
He can't breathe.
He needs to get them out. He won't let them suffocate like he's—
"Whoa, whoa, whoa—" Tony starts as he attempts to make his way to his feet. Hela and Thor rise with him, protests shooting up around him and he makes it to his feet before his body ripples with agony and he topples forward. Thor's arms wrap around him and haul him backwards until he's sitting again. Loki chews on his inner lip, his face heating with humiliation.
"What do you think you're doing?" Bruce demands, pushing Thor's hands away and begins to fret over Loki's ribs. Loki shoves his hands away.
"There's…" he swallows again, cursing his stupid tongue, "people. I can't...let them...die."
Hela shakes her head, "No, Loki," she whispers. His fists clench with frustration. Hela grips his shoulder tightly, her eyes wide again and moist. She looks between hitting him at his stupidity or hugging him and crying. "Everyone is accounted for. You were the last one out."
He...what?
"That can't…" He starts. It can't be right. It hasn't been long since the collapse. Twenty minutes. Ten.
Thor's expression grows pained, "Brother, they were searching for you for four hours."
Loki's jaw slides open without his consent in shock. Four...four...what? "I…" Loki's voice fails him. His silvertongue is a dull copper against the roof of his mouth. He snaps his jaw shut tightly.
Steve kneels and gives his shoulder a quick squeeze, "We thought you were…it was getting hopeless."
Four hours?
How did he not suffocate?
Hela's expression draws tight again and she grips his shoulder pulling him forward a little. It isn't until she does that he realizes that he was tipping back. "You should lay down," she presses.
The building's weight against his ribs rings like a dull phantom. His breath hitches in his stomach. "No," he disagrees, "I don't think so."
Tony swears under his breath abruptly and Loki follows his gaze as Hela stops her fretting, turning to look behind them. Her fists clench by her sides tightly, her spine rippling as she rises to her feet completely. Loki tilts his head a little to look beyond her.
Walking towards them in a shadowing gleam of the overhead search lights is General Ross. His suit is ruffled, his facial hair perfectly combed, but the state of the smeared bags under his eyes suggest that he only just awoke.
Breath catches in his throat, anxiety latching onto his collarbones and pulling.
His wrist burns beneath the registry cuff.
Thor's grip tightens, and Loki feels Natasha and Steve's hands move to touch his upper back. He knows that they mean to be reassuring, but all they're doing is making his spine lurch and the discomfort grow. He's never been privy to physical touch, even before…it happened.
General Ross is flanked by two other officials, one of which Loki recognizes to be Agent Corvek. He's followed General Ross around like a lost pup these last few days, always at his heal. He doesn't know much about the blond agent beyond the fact that he's flaunts a pathetic intelligence. Loki is filled with the sudden desire to kick him.
"What on the bloody blazes happened!?" General Ross demands, coming to a halt some three feet in front of his sister.
Hela's spine is drawn tight. "I would like to imagine that you're ignorant, but I know better."
"Ignorant of what?" General Ross hisses.
Hela lifts a hand out towards the building, "Where on Helheim have you been? The building collapsed five hours ago. There was plenty of space between now and then for you to be here. My brothers—" she cuts her voice off sharply, then continues a little harder: "almost died, and now you choose to make your arrival."
General Ross swears sharply. "I've been preoccupied."
""Preoccupied"?" Thor repeats, his voice heated, "That is hardly an excuse. It is your duty to take charge of situations like this when they take place on land you own."
General Ross's face twists into something ugly, "I arrived when I could. Content?"
"No." Hela snaps sharply. "Is this how you intend to run the Accords as well? Show up after six hours after the crisis is over? Ten? Fifteen?" Loki flicks his gaze out as he sees movement, then realizes with a growing trepidation that they're gaining an audience. Paramedics, other enhanced, and dozens of U.N. officials and agents.
Ross's expression flares, "How dare you pull the Accords into this—"
"They are the only reason we're here!" Hela rages, "If we hadn't been here, then Loki wouldn't have had to wear the crass registry cuff and none of this would have happened. This falls on your head, General."
"Mine?" General Ross chokes out, "Loki was the one who caused all of this! He's dangerous. Deadly. In fact—this proves my point. The Accords are to prevent things like this from happening again, Loki just showed us all why we need them."
A stinging ache races through him.
Thor's fist raises to slam against General Ross, but Hela catches his bicep before he gets too far in performing the act. Steve moves forward, his body language out for blood. "This isn't some kind of joke you can bend to your ideas, General," he avers sharply, "people almost died here."
"Exactly." General Ross spits out, "And an enhanced psychopath was the reason behind it."
"I beg your pardon—" Thor starts.
"This is hardly the time to be calling insults," Stephen says calmly, coming to a halt beside Steve. Oh, Norns. Loki tries to sit up a little more, but his ribs are screaming and he can't get his tongue to work. He can't even speak.
Pathetic.
"I saw what happened. Loki didn't want this to happen." Stephen avers. "You're pulling at threads and trying to make cloth, General, but you don't have enough to condemn him by."
"Enough?" General Ross repeats, "Ha! You all saw what he did to New York. This is hardly a pimple of what he has the potential to do. He's murderous. Simply because we tried to grasp a little control over that with the Accords, he lashed out and nearly killed thirty people—one of which was his own brother."
The anxiety in his chest is painful.
Muuuurdererer.
What is wrong with you!?
General Ross continues before anyone can respond: "Many of the heroes have already signed. They saw what could be done here and came to their senses. Why was I late, Your Majesty?" He turns to her, "I was busy finishing details of the Accords with those who were wise enough accept them. And not just individuals. Wakanda did, who's next?"
The silence around them is thick. Uncomfortably heavy before several hands lift into the air shakily. It speaks volumes. Norns. Look at what he's done. He can't remember what happened, but he caused that destruction. He's an agent of chaos, but not like this. It's never mindless. Never...never…
Oh, Loki, look at what you've done.
You've caused more than a dozen to submit themselves to subjugation, all because of your idiocy.
You nearly killed thirty mortals.
You nearly killed Thor.
Muuuurdeereerrrr.
Shut up! Norns please shut up!
A pleased look crosses over General Ross's face, "Excellent. Agent Corvek, please escort these reasonable heroes to the meeting hall. I'll be with them shortly. To everyone else—this is a sign from God himself what can happen when power rolls this uncontrolled. This wild. You would do well to remember that when you debate what to do next. Now get, this isn't a theater. We have clean-up to do!"
A little over two minutes later the entire area is mostly cleared of gawking people save the stray agents, the Avengers, his siblings, and a few U.N. officials. General Ross turns to look back at them, his expression clouded with irritation. "What?"
Hela's fingers fidget against her palm for moment, "You knew." Her words are cold.
Knew.
Knew what?
General Ross's eyes narrow, though his body language his shifted from confident to wary. "Knew what, oh mighty Mistress of Death?"
Hela rests a hand on her hip, gesturing wildly with the other. The more she speaks the hotter her voice grows: "Do you take me for a fool, Thaddeus? I have walked this Earth before you were born. I led armies into battle when I was an adolescent, held the position of executioner at the same age, and I have ruled a country for longer than you or your grandfather have been alive. Darling, do you really believe I could not put two and two together?"
Visibly shaken, and a little pale, General Ross asks: "What is it that you believe I've done?"
"The registry cuff. You adjusted it somehow—snap your trap shut, there's no use defending yourself. There are few people who have received a detailed report on what happened to my brother before he arrived on Earth, but you somehow got a hold of what Thanos did. And you used my brother like some sort of sick tool to get them to sign. You used him as an example because you knew he has not yet fully recovered."
The cuff.
Loki had not even…
It hadn't started to hurt as intensely until after they didn't sign the Accords the first day. Before that was just a headache that didn't lessen with time or sleep. General Ross played him into his hands with ease. Norns, why didn't he see it...why did he not see it coming? He has been manipulating people for hundreds of years, but he couldn't even see this—
General Ross is quiet a moment, his eyes drawn tight before he appears to accept defeat. "Yeah, well, they needed the push."
Hela's fist slams against Ross's face. There is not restraint this time, no holding back of her enhanced strength. Loki didn't even see her arm move, and if Thor did, Loki has his doubts he would have stopped it. General Ross tumbles to the ground, gasping, blood leaking from the broken nose. The rage is pouring from her and Loki can see the grass around her feet yellowing with decay.
With death.
Hela brutally kicks General Ross in the ribs twice and he groans. With a flare of disgust in the movement, she shoves him to his back with her boot. But his sister isn't finished.
From the looks of things, she's just getting started.
"Hey!" Several agents call out and move forward to stop her, but Hela's head swings in their direction and she flings a handful of weapons in a wide arc, her aim folly on purpose, forcing the agents dive out of the way. She grabs Ross by his shirt and drags him off the ground by his collar.
The man sputters and Thor takes a step forward, his hands fidgeting with discomfort. Bruce, Clint, and Tony follow after his brother.
General Ross sputters, his hands coming to wrap around her forearm. "That...all you got?" He grins crookedly, revealing bloodied teeth.
"Oh, Darling, the things I could do to you," Hela whispers softly, almost as if offering a mournful croon.
"Sister…" Thor warns.
"Hela," Clint says firmly beside him.
General Ross's eyes narrow, "Do your worst," he gasps out. His stance is hard and cocky, as if he believes himself in charge. He doesn't think that Hela will do anything more, but Loki has seen her rage for centuries. General Ross's command is a facade, and only a facade. Loki sees resolve settle into Hela's shoulders.
Safety clicks off on many weapons.
They're going to shoot his sister.
"Oh, I intend to," Hela promises and summons a long dagger, hand swinging up to gut the general, but Loki jerks his hand out, catching her arm with sorcery. He strains at the force, but settles and rises unsteadily to his feet. Natasha catches a majority of his weight when he stumbles. He makes his way forward shakily.
Hela looks back at him, "Let go."
"No."
"I'm going to kill him. Let. Go."
"No."
"Loki…"
Loki grabs her arm, ignoring Ross's gleeful, smirking face. "Stop. What happened was my fault. It has nothing to do with him."
It's just him.
With his crass mind and jumbled senses.
Hela scoffs. "You know that's a lie."
Yes. Well, he hasn't become a known fabricator for nothing. "Sister," his tongue is heavy and his body is close to giving out completely. "Please. Let this rest. I'm exhausted and I want to go." He will not have another murder on his conscious. "Please."
General Ross slips from Hela's grip wordlessly and her expression stills before she draws the weapon back and swings his arm around her shoulders. His body protests to the transition, but he says nothing. Hela's lips are pressed together firmly as they move forward; Thor stands beside his other side and the Avengers take their flank.
They leave the broken building behind them, but General Ross's words are heavy against his mind. An anchor dragging him beneath this ocean that he doesn't know how to swim out of.
He is going to drown.
000o000
Loki is escorted back to his, Thor, and Hela's hotel room with aching limbs. When he's been directed to lay down on the couch and fretted over for the umpteenth time, the Avengers turn to his sister. Hela's expression is deceptively collected, but Loki can tell that she's none to happy. The silence pulls for a long few seconds before Tony asks: "Hades, what the heck?"
Hela turns to him. "I'm sorry?"
"You were going to kill him." Natasha says tonelessly. "Kill him. We're on the U.N.'s ground, your diplomatic immunity only extends so far."
Loki turns his head to watch them clearer, but doesn't bother to shift fully on the couch. Hela's face flashes with irritation, her weight shifting forward, "I know that. Do you know one of the most basic ways to start a war that even mortals, hundreds of years your predecessors, knew it? Attack the royal family. On Asgard, it would be well within my rights to—"
"But this isn't Asgard!" Steve counters, his eyebrows twisted in a way that Loki's come to associate with trivialization.
"Tell me that you didn't want to at least maim him for what he did—go on, tell me." Hela challenges. When no one speaks up, she huffs, her lips twitching into something bitter, "See? Vindicated."
"That's not what it's about. We're not trying to condemn you," Bruce corrects, "but if you go after him again, it's going to get beyond a repair—you may have already blown it out of the water. You just tried to kill a member of the U.N. at a peace treaty gathering."
"What would you have had me done, then!?" Hela exclaims, frustration evident in her voice. "I'm walking, as you put it, on thin ice, but I don't know what on Helheim I'm doing! Loki broke twenty-two bones from the collapse—Thor broke six. No one walked away unscathed and it's all because that crass, egoistical—"
"Hela," Thor intones softly, "please."
There's silence for a long moment, and Loki's mind drifts. He barely surfaces the depths when Steve reaches out and grasps Hela's shoulder. It's a grounding gesture, along with an effort to repair the burning bridge. "Listen," Steve says softly, "it's not our intent to castigate you."
Hela's eyebrow lifts.
Steve sighs quietly, "It surprised us; frankly, I don't think any of us would have done differently, you just reacted faster." No. Loki has his doubts any of them would have attempted to gut the general. Maim him, certainly, but not kill. Not for him. They're above such murder, and Loki is relieved by that. His ledger is gushing, and he doesn't know how to make it stop.
"We're leaving," Hela says at long last, her voice harrowed. "I'm going to kill someone if we stay longer, and General Ross will have more problems than a dislocated nose and a few broken ribs to deal with. I've already refused the Accords, what further harm can they do to us?"
A tense look passes between the five.
Loki squints, attempting to see what secret it is they're trying to bury, but he's exhausted. His mind refuses to analyze, instead insisting on sleep.
"What is it?" Thor questions, though he looks reluctant to say anything.
Tony looks like he's chewing on his inner cheek before he blows out a slight raspberry, "We already tried to leave yesterday," he explains, "Laura called and said that she hasn't seen Cooper since we left and Pep also texted me and said that she hasn't seen Peter for as long. She thinks it's because of a...side hobby—" does Tony still truly believe they don't know that Peter is Spider-Man? "—we were going to help search."
Loki's stomach sinks slightly, a cold feeling settling there.
"And?" Thor presses.
Clint's expression is dark, "We didn't make it past the gates. You sign and you leave, or you stay here until you do. That's it. "Retirement" is only if you sign, but decide not to follow."
What?
A low cuss escapes from Thor, but Hela's jaw clenches tightly. "I am queen, I can't—"
"You will." Natasha says, tilting her head a little with her evident frustration. "This whole mess has...it's brought up some points to us. Ross knows how to instill fear by using the possibility of us creating world catastrophes—it's what he did tonight with Loki. We're not stupid, but we're leaving the world defenseless and someone needs to find Peter and Cooper. We're going to sign."
The silence is so thick Loki can taste it.
It's heavy.
Uncomfortable.
He shifts a little, until he's semi-upright and looks towards the five, "This is your master plan?"
"We're working out the kinks," Tony argues, "but for the moment? Yes. We can't do anything until we're out there. The public needs this reassurance. We're heroes, not tyrants. Placing ourselves above the law is...it's stupid."
"It's not putting yourself above it," Hela corrects, "you're protecting yourselves from enslavement. Do you really think this pragmatic?"
"I have to find my kid," Tony says firmly, there's a hysteria that Loki can see in his hands now. The way they keep fiddling with everything and refusing to stay still. Anxious. "Peter's not going to die out there well I sit here knowing that I can do something."
"Cooper is thirteen." Clint presses, "If something found out about them...it's not a possibility I can take."
And everyone else is going because of loyalty to the family unit that the Avengers have created.
Hela's expression has softened slightly and Thor's is accepting. He grips Steve's shoulder tightly, "Then I wish you luck, friends. Whatever has befallen your children you'll find." He reassures, "Let us know if we can help."
"Unless you sign, I don't think you can," Tony says it jubilantly, but there's something bitter in his tone.
000o000
Two days and some hours later, the U.N.'s base of operations is mostly empty. After the debacle with what happened to the diner-not-diner, everyone came to some conclusion or another. Whether it was to care for family members outside of the boundaries or fear of doing what Loki did, everyone seems to sway one way or another.
Soon it's just them.
Thor's not certain to be humiliated or proud at the fact that Hela refuses to bow to the U.N.'s commands despite everything that happened. Perhaps a little bit of both.
His and Loki's injuries have mostly healed save a few bruises and tender areas to touch, but beyond that they are well. Hale. As much as they can be. Loki has been withdrawn and sullen since the collapse and Thor has to repeat what he's saying to his younger brother often when he realizes that Loki wasn't here mentally. Hela has tried to be calm and collected, but Thor knows her well enough to see that the stress is causing her to collapse.
They're a mess.
It's beginning to show.
And Thor has no idea what to do.
So ignores it until he can't.
Thor jolts awake, his heart thudding in his chest with adrenaline. His stomach is flipping weirdly, but he cannot remember what woke him. Only that his body demands that he run. His hand curls around the hilt of the knife hidden beneath the pillow and he attempts to ease the tenseness of his breath, allowing the core of lightning to fester in case the need arises as he listens for noises.
Of someone else in the room.
Of what woke him.
A noise causes his muscles to seize, but it isn't a voice, or even a footstep; it's some sort of kneeing sound, but the kind that someone only makes when they're in too much pain to scream. Thor's fingers curl around the weapon and he rolls on to his side as quietly as he can, hand scrambling along the bedside table to grab at the lamp and tug the light source on.
The noise rings out again as he does so.
The light casts away a few of the shadows, but the corners are still swollen with black.
Thor sweeps his gaze across the room, finding no one and turns his attention to where Loki is located, on the other bed. He's curled in around his knees, tugged up close to his chest and the blanket is thrown precariously, almost carelessly over his frame. Thor realizes after a second of listening to Loki's ragged breath that the noise is coming from his younger brother.
What on the Nine—?
Thor releases the hilt of the dagger and stumbles across the room, "Loki?" He questions softly, lifting a hand out to hover above Loki's shoulder, uncertain what to do. "Brother? Are you in pain, is something wrong?"
Loki doesn't answer.
He's asleep.
Dreaming.
And still making that noise.
Thor gnaws on his inner cheek for a second before letting his hand press against Loki's arm. Loki flinches wildly, a choked clicking sound escaping him before he brings his hand up and slams it against Thor's sternum. Had he been expecting the sudden attack, he would have been able to catch Loki's wrist. As it is, Thor gasps and stumbles backwards, hand coming up to press against the area.
Loki scrambles away from him, pressing his back against the bed frame of the hotel bed, hands wrapping around the rods. "No, no, no, no, no—" He's repeating, gasping out heaving breaths that aren't full. Thor rubs at his chest, catching his breath as best he can and attempts to approach.
He has no idea what he's doing.
Or what's wrong with Loki.
This has never happened before.
"Loki—" He tries, but his brother flinches back further, spine curling up like a tense cat.
"Stop!" Loki hisses out, "I'm not going back. You can't make me see him today."
Him? Who is him?
"I don't understand," Thor says, "Loki, please, you're scaring me."
Loki doesn't appear to hear him, only reacting at physical movements Thor makes. He flinches wildly when Thor attempts to lift his hand to show he has no weapons, then bares his teeth sharply when Thor takes another step forward. Loki is not connected with this reality, and Thor is uncertain how to pull him back.
"Loki, be at ease, you're safe here. It's me, Thor, you're safe. Please breathe." Loki's ragged gasps aren't enough to be passable. He doesn't listen, instead curling his hands tighter around the bed frame and drawing his feet towards his stomach as if to protect the vital organs.
When Thor is touching the mattress again, Loki's chest rises and falls rapidly before his green, hazed eyes settle and he dives at Thor. Expecting such a reaction this time, Thor dodges the blow, tumbling into the bedside table between the two beds. The pain is sharp and fiery, but ignorable. The lamp rattles, causing the light to flicker. Loki stumbles to the floor, but draws himself up quickly.
"Have you not torn me apart enough?" Loki growls thickly, "What is there left of you to tear out?"
Thor's stomach is sick with anxiety and a twisted confusion. His fingers are numb. Loki attempts to dive at him again, but Thor catches his forearms, holding him in place. Loki's eyes draw with further panic and he wildly struggles before jumping up and smacking his feet against Thor's stomach.
Thor's back slams into the table's edge and he hisses between his teeth, a surge of lightning rattling across his body in response to the pain and Loki gasps with pain as it touches him. Thor draws his hands back quickly, horrified, and Loki tumbles to his back, his fists glowing a dull green.
Not again.
Norns.
This is not some sort of trick, Loki is having another one of his "episodes".
And he can't deal with it by himself. Thor dives at the younger, keeping a knee firmly on Loki's stomach and slamming Loki's forearms down against the ground, attempting to keep his hands as still as he can. Sorcery is nowhere near as effective without hand movement.
"HELA!" Thor hollers, "HELA!"
Loki struggles underneath him, but Thor keeps him firmly planted on the ground. Loki's entire forearms are beginning to glow and Thor wishes for the umpteenth time that he knew more about sorcery this advanced and what exactly this means. Nothing good, Thor's guessing.
Where is their sister?!
"HELA!"
The light flicks on to the adjoined room, momentarily blinding him and he hears rapid footsteps, "Thor, what the—" Hela starts, barging into the room, sword in either hand and her expression looking prepared for murder. Or to face murder. She's still dressed in her pajamas, hair tucked into a messy braid that her shorter layers are falling loose from. Her eyes rapidly move across the scene before her expression drops and she tosses the weapons to the floor.
She lands on her knees beside Loki and looks at him, "What's going on?"
"I don't know!" Thor admits, more terror than he cares to admit present in his voice. "He won't wake up."
Hela hisses out a curse then in a fit of frenzied panic or some sort of higher beings suggestion, she smacks Loki across the face. Loki's struggles still, a dull, defeated look slipping into his eyes. It scares Thor more than the fight did.
Hela backhands him again, and Loki's chest heaves, his face tensing, but the glassy look to his eyes is fading. Thor doesn't relent his hold, the veins along Loki's forearms and fingers are still glowing, and they don't need another incident like two days ago. Hela shifts slightly, then rests a hand over Loki's eyes.
Loki initially flinches to her touch, head shaking to remove it, but after nearly ten seconds, his muscles give with defeat. A deep, gasping breath draws in rapidly through his nose and he blows it out sharply. Then he does it again, and again.
Hela flicks a stray piece of hair from his face, but keeps her hand firmly over his eyes. "Loki," she addresses, her voice level for all the fear on her face, "do you know who I am?"
Loki is quiet, then wets his lips, voice hoarse: "My sister."
Relief slumps through Thor's muscles, and he sees Hela's face reveal the same emotion. "Yes." She agrees, "Do you know who is holding your arms down?"
"...Thor."
"Good," Hela avers, "where are we?"
Loki is quiet for a long moment, then a ragged hiss of fear escapes him, "I don't know." Thor's stomach drops and he bites at his tongue sharply to keep himself from saying anything. "I can hear someone coming. The Chitauri," Loki whispers, his face growing paler, "we're in the Sanctuary, aren't we?"
The what?
"Please don't make me go back, I can't...I can't—"
Hela smooths hair from his face, though Thor notes that her hands are trembling, "You're not going anywhere, brother. The only people in the room is just me, you, and Thor. We're in New York City, on Midgard. You are on the floor. It's currently three-twenty-two in the morning. I need you to take in a deep breath."
Loki tries, but doesn't find much success.
"Try one more time, brother," Thor encourages, loosening his hold. He's afraid to break it completely until someone tells him to.
The breath is not smooth and it's shallow. "Something's wrong," Loki whispers. "Please. Something's wrong and I-I-I—"
"Shh," Hela instructs, "Darling, you're fine. Just keep trying. Thor is going to release you, but I'm going to keep my hand over your eyes. I need you to call back your sedir. You don't need it. You're safe here."
Hela looks up at him and gives a small nod. Thor hesitantly releases Loki's left hand, then his right and moves to Loki's left, releasing the pinning. Loki's chest rises and falls raggedly as he attempts to stave off the panic, but Thor sees the deep emerald in his skin lesson. Then fade completely.
Loki's hand scrambles along the ground as if searching for something, then it stills as it touches the edge of Thor's knee. Thor bites at his lower lip, then takes Loki's hand with his own, gripping the fingers tightly.
"In and out," Hela instructs, "hold for two, out for two, breathe with me."
Loki's attempts eventually align with their sister's, and, when his breathing has steadied, Loki curls onto his side, pressing his head against Hela's knee and his feet touching Thor. Hela gently pulls her hand back, running a hand through his messy hair.
"I'm sorry." Loki mutters quietly.
Thor shares a disbelieving look with Hela. "Brother," Thor starts softly, his voice barely above a quiet sigh.
"No one wants to deal with trauma." Loki insists.
"No one asks for it either," Thor points out.
"We're not angry," Hela assures, "you needn't fight yourself over this." Loki rubs at his eyes with the back of his palm, reminding Thor abruptly of how tired he is. "Do you want to speak over what happened?"
Loki's lips twist into a mirthless smile and he releases a bitter laugh. "Everyone wants to use my time as Thanos against me, including my own mind."
Thor's eyes widen. Oh.
"Brother…" he trails, uncertain what to so. What he can, because nothing he says will make it better. Just because Loki is his brother doesn't mean he can love this away.
Hela appears to gnaw at her inner lip before she shakes her head softly, "Alright, we're all exhausted, we should go to bed." She rises to her feet and grabs one of the spare pillows from off of Thor's bed, throwing it onto Loki's and jerking her head at them to follow. Thor does so, not as surprised as he would have been a few centuries ago.
They used to do this all the time when he and Loki were children.
They did it often after the ill-fated trip to Nidavellir.
Loki ends up squished in the middle, mumbling about stolen blankets and how cold their feet are before he curls up next to Thor's side and Hela throws a hand lazily across their chests. The weight is reassuring, a reminder that they're still here and alive.
Contently warm and the feeling of safe radiating across him, Thor falls asleep quickly.
000o000
Thor awakens to Loki's head resting on his stomach, Hela's feet pushing against his calves and stuffed beneath Loki's knees. The blankets are a mess at their feet, but Thor is contently warm nonetheless. Hela is awake with her hands clasped behind her head, staring up at the ceiling.
He only has to wait a few seconds before she looks towards him. Her eyes are shaded heavily. Thor has his doubts she slept through the night. Hela breathes out sharply, then says in a soft whisper: "I'm going to contact the Avengers and ask them to get us out of here."
Thor stares at her. "...Isn't that...we'll be fugitives, won't we?"
"I suspect so," she murmurs, "but I refuse to enslave our people, and none of us can remain here for any longer. Loki can get us out with sorcery, we just need the registry cuffs to be disabled."
Thor frowns, a discomfort beneath his ribcage expanding to wrap around his stomach. "I'm not certain that—"
"It's the only option I can think of right now," Hela doesn't sound ready to pick a fight, she sounds exhausted enough to weep and it silences him faster than her anger would have. She may rarely lose her temper around them, but tears are less so. "I'll hold a council with parliament and the curia regis, we'll determine what to do from there."
A council that, as High Commander of Asgard's army, he'll be present for.
He has to.
He, Hela, and three others are a part of the War Council. If this is to determine what actions need to be taken, they're going to have to consider the possibility of war. Thor suddenly feels overwhelmingly exhausted.
"Your plan is to escape to Asgard and hope that we don't get caught along the way?" Thor questions. His doubt is present, but he can't bring himself to care properly. Asgard is more than twelve hours from New York by plane.
Hela's eyes close with frustration, "Yes. I already texted Tony. He found a way to hack the registry cuffs from a computer. The "master code" he was talking about is a digital number. He told me he'd let us know when he'd cracked it."
Thor frowns a little, but flicks his gaze towards the band wrapped around his wrist that has both solved the mess for the U.N. and only created a larger one for everyone else.
"I suspect that leaving won't be to much of a problem," Loki whispers silently and Thor nearly jolts, having forgotten that Loki was present in the room. Loki has always been a light sleeper, so he doubts that his and Hela's conversation has been private since it began. He's gotten better and feigning sleep that Thor can remember, though.
Thor hums in question.
Loki sighs, "When is a door not a door?"
Ugh. Riddles. Swell. Thor thinks on it for a second, then realizes that it's a phrase he's heard Loki rant about before and pops out the answer in a little less than ten seconds: "When it's a jar."
"Exactly," Loki states, "if we want to get out of here, we can't be sitting still staring at the doors. When the registry cuffs are off, I can get us out and to Asgard by the shadow paths. If they wanted us to stay here, they shouldn't have invited me. I have ten centuries of practice, do they really believe I can't get us all out of a locked room?"
Point.
Thor has seen him do it before.
Hela's shoulders ease with tension. "Good," she says and Thor can hear some mirth in her voice when she adds: "Now hand me the blanket, I'm freezing and your feet aren't helping."
Loki throws the blanket at her face.
Thirty minutes later, after a quick text from Tony, the three of them have cleaned the rooms of their possessions, Loki re-inserted any cameras or microphones present and they leave the registry cuffs in a neat little pile on the coffee table (Hela attaching, with some amusement, a small sticky note reading "NO" in bold letters), and Loki's guiding them through the folds of reality towards Asgard.
They're out.
Escaped.
Free.
Author's Note: Guys, I have a semi-funny story to tell you. So my friend and I were watching Justice League because I had a mental collapse today (I'm one of the .2% that like legit loved the movie, okay? No judgement XD) and we were discussing the villain and my friend was complaining about how the villain was over powered and had no depth and then they were like, no joke: "But you know, you like Loki because he's...he's like weak, pathetic, and scrawny, and has the complexion of a pancake."
A pancake.
I just...Okay. Anyway, hope that made someone laugh. :)
Next chapter: No clue, but hopefully soon! I want to try and get it out before Endgame (guys, it's like two weeks from now. I am so not ready), but we'll see.
Again, thank you so much! I love you all, until chapter 5!