THORKISUPPORT (Okay, okay! Enjoy :) ), Celdria (Thank you so much! Good to know ;) ), Guest (Thanks!), DarkSkyDepth (It's true. Thank you!), Prince Of Pariahs (Thanks! Enjoy ;) ), ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer (Glad you liked! Thank you), Maru de Kusanagi (Thanks a lot! I hope you're going to keep enjoying it :) ), salenastarzz (Thank you! I'm sure Thor would've been glad to have such kind of support, especially in the new chapter :) ), Guest (Thanks! I promise I'll keep updating this often), Aquarinus (Thank you! Here's more), Noelwing (I haven't read it, so I can't tell anything about it. Well... If anything, good old Clive Barker inspired me a bit, though I haven't read anything of his for ages. I don't mean any particular story, but the way he creates an atmosphere in his books. But, then again, I haven't read his books for quite a while. What of the plot, I don't even know where it has come from O_o. I just wanted to write a horror story and this just formed in my head one day and refused to go. When I tried to imagine any other characters in this story, it didn't work. So it could only be about Thor and Loki, which is odd, because I usually prefer them as adults, not children or teens; and I also prefer them in their myth- or movieverse, so it was especially odd of me to come up with something like this. But it wouldn't be a horror story otherwise, imo :). I'm really glad you like it. And thanks a lot for reviewing! Very nice of you :) ), elite prime (That was so flattering. Thank you! Please, don't apologise; English is not my native language either), GrimCharmer (Haha! :D Actually I have something else for him. Thanks for commenting!)


A/N: I hope you're going to enjoy this long, eventful chapter!


9. The Shaken Morale

~oOo~

Thor looked incredibly determined during the next two fights, and his opponents didn't stand a chance against his thunderous attacks. His team-mates and trainer were ecstatic. Some spectators held their breath each time he was doing one of his combos that usually knocked his opponents down. The sport reporters were very interested in the young fighter, and those whose lives were devoted to boxing admitted that Thor probably had a great future ahead of him if he was going to keep fighting like this.

No one knew what was going on inside his head. He took his frustrations out on his opponents and practically used them to keep himself in the best shape that he was capable of achieving. He needed it. He needed to be focused, he needed to think fast and hit hard to defeat anyone on his way.

He was waiting for one of those realistic dreams where he would be able to use all his senses and generally feel material and coherent. Even though he had been visiting the hospital in some of his recent dreams, he hadn't been conscious enough in them to do anything useful. Mostly it had been just the same aimless wandering that he hated so much.

He could admit to himself now that he was driving himself insane, taking all of it so serious, instead of admitting that it was just a delusion, a dangerous one, and he would end up in a mental hospital for indulging in it. It made him falter sometimes. But only sometimes.

~oOo~

After their training session Thor and his team-mates got into their minibus that usually delivered them to the hotel where all of them had been living during the time of the competition. Most of the young fighters became visibly relaxed as soon as they'd made themselves comfortable and the floor was crammed with their sports bags; some young men plugged their ears with earphones, others were quietly talking to each other, discussing their future opponents, current girlfriends or some new film they desired to see. One of them complained that he'd hurt his shoulder during his workout.

Thor pressed the side of his head to the side window, feeling a little tired and sleepy. Quiet, calm voices around him were lulling, and when the minibus was off, the light, comfortable rocking quickly made him relaxed enough to fall asleep.

As he opened his eyes, he felt really confused at first, finding himself in some shabby corridor. He was conscious enough to recognise this place very soon though; it was the top floor of the abandoned hospital. Slowly but surely he was recalling all the previous times he had been here. He remembered the creature he hated so much, remembered his decision to destroy it and to get Loki out of here; though he didn't know if he'd made that decision in his dream or in reality. He could never tell what was real and what wasn't; being here felt real enough to be reality.

Without wasting time he headed straight to the nearest stairway and went down to the first floor. Without stopping, he reached the damned double door and opened it... to find himself in a place completely different from what he had usually seen here. There were several steps down and a short corridor with four doors. He could swear he'd seen this place before, which brought up an association with something terrible and painful that stabbed him in his heart. Loki... Loki had been hurt here. He couldn't remember details, but somehow he knew that he didn't want to remember them.

To his dismay, he couldn't feel Loki via his empathy, but he could feel his little brother's pain and anguish all over this place. It made it hard for Thor to breathe and he had to try to disconnect himself from it. If empathy was his new additional sense, he could control it, right? After all, he could block his sight by simply closing his eyes or his hearing by pressing his hands against his ears. Maybe there was something like that for his empathy? It helped as he concentrated on what he was seeing.

Another thing that Thor hated was the fact that he, once again, didn't know where to go and what to do. He decided to just explore the place.

Loki had been hurt behind one of these doors, and his empathy immediately let him feel, which one. He opened the door. The feeling of Loki's pain was shocking. It was dark inside, but Thor had left the double door upstairs opened, so he could see just about everything here as soon as his eyes had got accustomed to the semidarkness. Oh, he knew this place, he really did. It had been the mortuary. The once white tiles on the floor and walls were cracked, yellowish or fallen off completely in some places. Yes, this was exactly what Thor had subconsciously expected to see. The old, slightly rusty refrigerators and the sink, just as rusty... Everything felt predictable to him. Looking down on the floor he saw some dark stain. The dried blood... He knew it was Loki's and his heart stuttered at this knowledge. He squatted down and touched the stain with his fingertips. Looking around again, he could swear that something was missing. He wasn't sure if it was important, but decided to look around, just in case.

At the same time, he started losing control over his senses. He could smell death, a lot of it. So many dead bodies had been through this place. They had been dissected for post-mortem examinations, they had been waiting here for days (or much longer) to be identified by their relatives. Some had been fresh, delivered from the upper floors of the hospital, still warm probably, after being emptied of their lives not long before that; some had been long dead, and there was hardly anything on earth that could make their stench just disappear, quickly and entirely. This place was a brief stop between life (or a hospital bed) and a grave. The air still kept the aftersmell of death and decay. Or was it Thor's empathy that affected his other senses at the moment?

But all of it was old, long gone, leaving only a trace of what had been here long ago. It was mostly imaginary and it didn't even really bother Thor, other than making this place a little creepier. The smell of fear and devastating despair was much fresher; the smell of tears, pain, blood, burning, smoke... Thor felt nauseous; his fists clenched tightly. It felt like a good part of Loki had been left here, severely torn away from the boy. Thor wasn't sure what exactly had happened here to Loki, not consciously. But in his heart he knew. He just knew that he possessed this knowledge; it was trapped in his subconsciousness, and he wasn't ready to even try to discover it, because his empathy would've, most likely, killed him on the spot if he did. It had been bad for Loki, it had been terrible, frightening; a pure agony both emotionally and physically. That was all Thor needed to know, no details were required... His eyes involuntarily travelled to the dry stain of blood on the floor, and he shut them tightly. He was already feeling like he was being pulled down into a marsh, sinking deeper and deeper in what his additional sense was flooding him with.

He did his best to collect himself once again. 'Watch and explore, don't feel. Use your head, not your heart,' he ordered himself. It was working.

Overcoming the squeamishness, he opened several random doors of the refrigerators and even slightly pulled out the drawers made for dead bodies. 'These better be empty...' He could hardly see anything inside simply because the light from upstairs wasn't enough, but from what he saw, there was absolutely nothing in there. Somehow he was almost sure that if he thoroughly checked each one of the refrigerators, he would find nothing useful. He wished he had an electric torch though...

Suddenly, his eyes stopped on the wall near one of the refrigerators. The wall seemed strangely empty. And then it came to him. A door...There had to be a door, but there wasn't. How did he know? What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all? Very unexpectedly a loud slam of the door, the only one in this room, nearly deafened him and startled him. The noise echoed right into his mind and lingered there. The room plunged into complete, impenetrable darkness. Thor felt paralysed, almost forgetting how to breathe for a few moments. Someone had locked him up here... He was trapped. There were no other ways to get out of here, so there was no escape. Why hadn't he left sooner, for fuck's sake?! He stubbornly tried to force his own body to move and to breathe, but he couldn't. The dark whirlwind of panicked thoughts was devouring his willpower.

But then he suddenly realised that it wasn't his reaction, it was Loki's... Thor, being in danger, either fought or fled, if there was no other way. His normal reaction right now would've been moving towards the door quickly and trying to break it. He never became paralysed like this; darkness didn't terrify him in such a manner. The impossibility of seeing an enemy (if there was any) was the only thing that could frighten him in the dark. And yet, he was standing there, frozen.

"No, no, no! I can't die! Please, I don't want... Mum..." he suddenly heard the pained, panicked voice out of nowhere, and it made him stop even trying to breathe. The words caused pain and sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't tell if he'd heard it for real or it had been just in his head. He was more inclined towards the latter and was hoping he was right in his conclusion.

"Loki..." he whispered, nevertheless. And all of it ended the very next moment. The door was once again open as if it hadn't been shut a few moments ago (which was very likely), letting the weak light into the room. He could move and breathe again without any trouble, except for being really shaken up right now. It had been just a hallucination... 'Use your head, not your heart,' he reminded himself sternly.

He knew he had to get out of here immediately. He'd found nothing useful anyway, no answers, so not only it was useless to stay there, but the very atmosphere of the room was unbearable, because its air was saturated with Loki's sufferings. The cursed place was poisoning Thor, especially his sanity. He left it without looking back, but he was on his alert as he was outside, in case something or someone had shut that door. There was no one there though.

The next room was absolutely empty; there was nothing to look at other than cracked, shabby walls, but it was slightly illuminated, and Thor couldn't understand where the light was coming from and why there wasn't any in the room with the refrigerators then.

He moved to another one. Just like the previous one, it was illuminated, even though the light was dim. The room was smaller than the previous two. There were a few shelves at the walls and a desk. The pieces of furniture were as shabby as everything else in this old hospital. Just as in the previous two rooms he'd visited, the floor and the walls here were tiled with the same ugly, once white, ceramic tiles. There was nothing interesting here.., other than another door in the far wall. It was locked.

Neither hitting the door with his shoulder, nor several powerful hits of his foot just below the lock allowed Thor to break it, despite his unquestionable physical strength. The door remained on its place no matter what. Thor wasn't even sure if there was anything behind it worth bothering himself with, but, since he was exploring the place, everything had to be checked. He looked around, trying to find something that could help him to open the door. Suddenly, he saw several transparent glass jars on one of the shelves. Strangely he hadn't paid attention to them before.

As he approached to take a better look, he froze for a brief moment, seeing the contents of the five litre jar, the biggest of them all. There was a foetus inside, preserved in formaldehyde, most likely, or in something similar. The foetus was curled up as if it was still in a womb. It was a regular human baby, looking developed enough to be a newborn, as far as Thor could tell. It, or rather she, probably hadn't survived her birth or had died shortly after it. Anyway, she was undoubtedly old enough to be properly buried rather than stuffed into a jar like some gruesome souvenir. She even had a proper navel, not a piece of a cord. 'This is just wrong,' Thor thought in disgust, looking at the little corpse.

The other, smaller, jars were empty; some were filled with probably the same yellowish liquid that preserved the baby from decay, but it looked dirtier. He was about to turn away and leave when his eyes accidentally looked at the baby again and noticed that there was something small, clutched in her little fist. As he took a closer look, frowning slightly in concentration, he realised that the thing in the dead baby's hand was a key! Could it be the key that unlocked that door? Even if it was... No... There was no way he was going to get it out of the jar with a dead infant inside. Angrily, he turned around and headed to the exit; but once he was outside, in the short corridor, he stopped. What if Loki was behind that locked door? What if something happened and Thor wouldn't have another chance to enter that doorway? He had sworn to do anything possible (and impossible) to save Loki. Was it some kind of a test?

He sighed and returned into the room. For a minute or so he was looking at someone's sickening handiwork, feeling like he was about to vandalise something that should never be touched. But he was trying to comfort himself with the thought that the baby was already long dead, so she couldn't care less about what he was going to do. Right! This baby was dead and Loki was alive and needed help. It made Thor determined enough to take the jar from the shelf and put it on the desk. At first he thought about throwing the jar on the floor, but the mental image of a little, broken corpse on the wet floor among the pieces of glass was too repulsing.

"All right, then..." he murmured quietly and started to open the jar. At first unscrewing the lid seemed impossible, but then it gave in under his physical strength and he opened it, holding his breath. There was no way he was going to put his hand into the jar, not to mention that his hand was too big and there was hardly any room inside the jar, because its occupant was taking almost the entire space of it. He rolled his sleeves up and slowly started tilting the jar right over the desk, making the formaldehyde solution pour out and making sure it wouldn't get on any part of him. It smelled terribly, irritating his eyes, nose and throat. Its flow made the little body move out. When it slid halfway out of the jar and the tiny hand that held the key was accessible, Thor stopped tilting the jar and, holding it with one hand, tried to take the key out with two fingers of the other one. It didn't take him much effort to take possession of the key almost without touching the tiny fingers and trying not to think that they felt almost like wet, hard rubber.

"Sorry, girl, but I need it more than you do..." he murmured. He put the key on the desk and started slowly moving the jar in the upright position to let the gravity make the baby's body slide back into the jar entirely with only a small help of his hand. The little body wouldn't be as perfectly preserved as before now that there wasn't enough formaldehyde inside the jar, but Thor couldn't make himself care too much about it. He closed the jar and put it back on the shelf. He quickly blinked several times, trying to get rid of the prickling sensation in his eyes, caused by the acrid smell. He wanted to get out of here to at least stop inhaling these disgusting formaldehyde fumes. Still, even this was better than going back into the room with the refrigerators, where his empathy was driving him insane.

He took the key from the desk and approached the locked door. There was no guarantee that the key opened this door or anything else here at all. It would be 'wonderful' if he had done what he had just done for nothing. For a couple of moments he was inwardly preparing himself to what could possibly follow: from being unable to open the door with this key to facing a danger behind it if it opened. But he was rather determined, so, without wasting any more time, he inserted the key into the keyhole (it fit!) and turned it three times clockwise. The door was unlocked and he felt a little proud and triumphant about this fact. But, as soon as he opened it, he rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance. It was, most likely, the corridor where he had found Loki last time and where the creature had been chasing them (or rather the younger of them two). Judging by the fact that the doors were situated on the left side of the corridor, it was really the one he considered the 'mirror image' of the one that he had visited so many times before. On the other hand, it depended in which end of the corridor he was right now to judge about a disposition of the doors. It was just bizarre. It just didn't make any sense. He wished he had a plan of this building, he wished there was any logic in all of it...

And then there was his least favourite part which consisted of wandering in search of something, anything. He couldn't feel Loki's location so far, but he just knew his brother was here somewhere, probably hiding from the creature. 'Stay safe,' Thor thought with tenderness.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, he managed to get to the parallel corridor, through the rooms that connected the two corridors. This one felt much more familiar. Quite soon it became much clearer why this time he had started his way here in such an unusual, unexpected manner: the place where the double door had been before, the one that he had used all the previous times (even though this time he'd got here through the similar door (yes, this place was more fucked up than he'd thought)) was blocked with the wall that somehow looked a little out of place. It was a dilapidated, concrete wall with some rust stains, and it looked like it had been brought here straight from a very old, neglected and damp basement. Yes, totally out of place even for this shabby hospital. It was obvious that the creature was, figuratively speaking, putting spokes in Thor's wheels. At first it, for some reason, had blocked that little window, and now this... And maybe it had managed to make that door in the room with the refrigerators disappear as well, for some reason (though Thor still wasn't entirely sure if that door should've been there, in the first place). It obviously hadn't calculated everything, because he'd managed to get here anyway; or it just wanted him to waste his time, already knowing that he never spent too much time here, so it decided to distract him.

Either way, the message was clear: the creature didn't want him here. But who the fuck cared what it wanted? 'I don't know what or who you think you are, but, don't even doubt it, I'm going to keep coming here, whether you like it or not; and I'm going to take my Loki away with me, you sick fuck,' he thought angrily, looking at that newly appeared wall. Maybe he was a bit too self-confident? The creature knew this place, it was its domain; it could even make changes in it, judging by this wall and other things he'd seen today. Besides, it wasn't a human being, and he knew nothing about it and how to kill it. Giving up wasn't even an option, though.

Thor tried to be patient, because it felt like his searching would never end. He couldn't feel Loki's location so far, which was frustrating. He opened each door he found on his way, but there was nothing that could be interesting or helpful.

Eventually, he entered the room that had a lot of old, dismantled furniture and other junk near the walls. But what really attracted Thor's attention were some tools carelessly scattered in one of the corners. There were several old, dirty mops with wooden handles, a rusty bucket, a couple of old wooden sticks, skeins of wires and a lot of small, useless, mostly broken things. Among all of that rubbish he managed to quickly spot the sledgehammer. It didn't look very old, the metal had darkened, but it wasn't rusty; and it was really big. Hammers like this were usually used to break some massive objects, such as thick tiles that had to be broken off the floors or walls; and even to break the walls themselves in some cases. Even a really strong worker wouldn't be able to work holding it in only one hand, because it was too massive and heavy. The handle was long and made of metal, as well as the heavy head that would've probably been too heavy for a handle made of wood; it just wouldn't have lasted. Thor weighed the impressive thing in his hands. He immediately felt a bit more secure, because this thing was almost perfect as a weapon. Why not? People in the past had fought with hammers, especially when an enemy had been well-armoured, which made bladed weapons ineffective. This tool resembled some two-handed war hammers that he'd seen in museums before, though it seemed like it had been in some other life, memories of which were rather obscured here in this hospital. Or, perhaps, that other life, outside of this building, was just a dream?

Anyway, having such a thing with him was pretty inspiring, though someone with a slighter build would've probably preferred to leave it alone, instead of lugging it around. But Thor's strong body could handle it. Being armed was undoubtedly a tangible advantage, because the idea of fighting with his bare hands seemed a little too extreme. He didn't know what he was going to face on his way. Would it be an enemy of flesh and blood or some inanimate obstacle (how about a locked door?), this thing could be quite useful. It could be quite enough to smash someone's skull with a single hit. It was robbing him of his agility, though; he wouldn't be really fast if he would have to fight (and he really hoped that he would!), but it was far better than having only his fists as a weapon, even if he was used to it being a boxer (in that other life, at least, where he had parents he loved, plenty of interests, including boxing, where he had Sif, who was his best friend, and... well, he had life.It couldn't be imaginary, could it?).

It seemed like several more hours had passed as Thor kept exploring the endless corridor and rooms in it. His so far futile search was discouraging, but he rarely stopped to take a minute of rest. The sledgehammer felt heavier now after so much time of carrying it around. He was either carrying it in both hands in front of himself, or on his mighty shoulders, like a yoke.

He stopped suddenly as his heart stuttered in tenderness. 'Loki...' Loki was here somewhere. Thor could feel him. He let his empathy guide him, and it brought him into one of the rooms. There was another door inside. Thor opened it slowly not to startle Loki again. He felt his little brother inside. It looked like it had been some storeroom once. There even were a few big, slightly rusty metal shelving units, though the shelves were empty, not including some boxes that were either empty or containing some old rubbish.

"Loki?" Thor said quietly, looking around. His empathy brought him to the corner of the room. Loki was there behind one of the shelving units. He was curled up on some old, big down-padded coat, torn in some places. At first Thor was startled, thinking that Loki was hurt, but as he approached and squatted down near the smaller young man, he realised that Loki was just sleeping. Even in his sleep he looked tired and there were dark shadows under his closed eyes. He had possibly got so tired of running away and hiding from the creature that there was nothing else left to do for him other than finding a hiding place where he could have some sleep, finally feeling more or less safe. Thor quietly put the sledgehammer down: head on the floor, handle against the wall.

He let Loki sleep without bothering him, even though he felt the urge to snuggle up against the sleeping boy or just to touch his face gently. He was just sitting there next to him, pressing his back against the wall, resting and feeling like a warden of his brother's sleep. He felt guilty for secretly hoping that the ugly creature would come here so he would be able to beat the hell out of it with his sledgehammer, or at least to test the waters and see what the creature was capable of as an opponent.

When Loki slowly opened his eyes and sat up, looking sleepy and disoriented, Thor couldn't help but smile. He hoped that his little brother would acknowledge his presence again, just like the last time when Loki had grabbed his hands, trying to pull him away from the monster, who hadn't been even interested in pursuing Thor.

"Hi..." the blond said softly. Loki turned to him, but he looked confused and curious, and, once again, it seemed like he was looking through Thor, slightly squinting. Oh, damn, Thor really wanted to know what Loki was seeing as he was looking at him. But, as usual, his brother wasn't scared of him. Thor once again thought about the empathy that probably worked both ways, so maybe Loki could feel his presence as well as Thor his. But the blond could see his younger brother as he was, whereas Loki saw something odd looking at Thor. The blond decided to try a physical touch once again and put his hand just below the nape of his brother's neck. Loki immediately started to relax at his touch and leaned into it. It looked like he felt warm and comfortable.

"It wasn't easy to find you this time, you know. Have you done something so it would be harder for... it... to find you? It has something to do with your empathy, doesn't it?" Thor murmured close to Loki's ear. The dark-haired youth reacted at his voice by once again turning his face towards the source, though it still wasn't like he could properly see and hear Thor. He thought that maybe every time he visited this place, he sank deeper and deeper into its strange reality, that was why Loki had started reacting at his presence somewhat.

Suddenly, Thor felt as if he was being tugged away by something. It had happened before. He knew he was about to disappear from here, and it was frustrating! Trying his best to hold onto his consciousness and this place, he grabbed the sledgehammer and put it in front of Loki, the long handle up towards the ceiling. Loki looked at the tool confused.

"Loki! Loki, you have to listen to me!" Thor exclaimed loudly and quickly, trying to attract his brother's attention. He really didn't have much time. He took Loki's both pale hands and made them grab hold of the metal handle of the enormous hammer. "I need you to keep this for me," he said. Loki was looking alternately at him (or almost at him anyway...) and at the hammer with his eyes wide open, his lips were parted in surprise. The blond was covering his brother's hands with his own, making them keep holding onto the handle. "I will come back for you, I promise. Please, you have to make sure I have this sledgehammer next time I'm here. Stay safe and wait for me!" With the last words he pressed his lips against the bridge of Loki's nose. The green eyes slowly closed at the touch of Thor's lips. The very next moment everything became hazy and the floor was disappearing from under the blond's feet and knees; the world was collapsing for him.

"Thor! Tho-oor..." someone was calling him. He opened his eyes, totally disoriented and perplexed. The minibus... He had fallen asleep on the way to the hotel. What felt like many hours in his dream was, in fact, only a half an hour, because the way usually took about thirty minutes or so. "You're a heavy sleeper, aren't you?" the same voice chuckled. Right... Ágúst, one of Thor's team-mates, had been trying to wake him up, because they were already near the hotel.

For goodness sake, his dreams were truly insane. Not only this one was a continuation of those that he had seen before, but things had become even more insane, which he had thought was impossible. It was enough that he felt too real and conscious in some of those dreams, which was already suspicious. And fuck... A dead baby in a jar? Perfect! If his dream Loki would really keep the sledgehammer for him until one of the next dreams, Thor would officially admit that he was mental and needed a medication.

~oOo~

Another oddly realistic dream didn't keep Thor waiting. Thankfully, this time it hadn't found him in a minibus, or worse, on a ring. He had comfortably fallen asleep in the bed of his and Loki's hotel room. Unfortunately, he was met by an unpleasant surprise, which was a new wall (though 'new' wasn't the right word for a dirty, shabby wall with rust stains). It blocked the corridor on the first floor that led to the notorious double door. The wall was similar to the one he had seen inside. This time the creature had been quite prudent.

Thor was angry and upset. The wandering in attempt to find another entrance was futile. He could feel Loki, he could feel him trapped in that isolated place, and it was hurting Thor's heart. He was supposed to be there with him. He had promised... Thor hated being helpless more than anything else.

He woke up with the strong feeling of uneasiness after that dream.

~oOo~

The next day was some kind of a day off for him when he had no fights and no training sessions, so he could spend the entire day with Loki. Ingibjörg administered Loki his medication and fed him through the tube, inserted into the boy's stomach through his nose (something that Thor still couldn't look at without being hurt, even though it was the only way his brother had been fed for a long time now). At least, Ingibjörg seemed exceptionally careful and professional doing it. With the previous nurse, albeit experienced and seemingly careful as well, Loki's nose had bled a few times, though Thor suspected it happened often in patients that were unlucky enough to get their sustenance this way.

When the woman left, Thor took his little brother for a walk in the park not far away from the hotel. It was a good place to relax and there weren't many people around. Thor's arm was around Loki's, and, as usual, it was easy for him to make Loki walk slowly alongside him. Eventually, he sat down on a bench and made his little brother sit down as well. The blond felt lonely. He still hadn't entirely got used to have only Loki's body with him, hadn't entirely accepted it. He was imagining what they would've talked about right now if his brother was fine. Most likely, they would've been discussing Thor's fights and further plans, or... Goodness, they would've talked about anything they wanted to talk about. Most of all, Thor wanted a chance to say how much he loved Loki, to get a smile in return and probably some teasing for being a silly, soppy, big softie, or whatever Loki would've called him for being sentimental ("A sentimental fool," Loki would've probably said).

'What can I do? I can't even help you in my dreams...' Thor thought and sighed; he took his brother's hand into his own before plunging into his own thoughts.

Yesterday Loki's doctor had rung and asked Thor questions, and then the doctor had talked to Ingibjörg, who could answer his questions in a more medical language. After that she'd given the phone back to Thor, and the doctor had said that it was probably necessary for Loki to spend some time in the mental hospital again after their return from Denmark. Thor was devastated by that recommendation. It had been a torture for him when they had taken his little brother there for the first time, and Thor had visited him every day, spending as much time with him as he could. But seeing Loki there in that place had been a great trial for him. And the hospitalisation hadn't even been helpful at all! He was afraid that they would use some horrifying methods on his brother. He couldn't trust anyone, even knowing that the medical staff was caring and professional. Loki was absolutely helpless, and he wouldn't be able to do anything, wouldn't be able to protest, if they decided to do... something he wouldn't like.

After that phone talk Thor had been a bundle of nerves, his heart beating fast in apprehension. His imagination had created scenes with electroconvulsive therapy (which had been briefly mentioned, by the way), brain surgery (which hadn't been mentioned at all, and, frankly, Thor had never heard if it was used in cases like Loki's. But what if..?) that included trepanning; and other gruesome things. He had imagined his baby brother as alive as a plant with his head partially shaved on one side, and there was an ugly, thick, reddened stitch after some surgery. And Loki's eyes were still empty. What if he would be in agony, but his body wouldn't be able to react and show anyone that he was consciously feeling pain? What if some actions of doctors would have an opposite effect, depriving Loki of any chances to heal, if he had any?

All those thoughts had made Thor want to hit his head against a wall to shake the terrible mental images out of it. He had worked himself up to the point of being on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Ingibjörg, seeing his state, had tried to convince him to stop seeing enemies in medical workers and to stop expecting them to use inhuman, 'medieval' methods. She had also tried to assure him that doctors wouldn't do anything serious without consent of their family. It was a pile of papers to read and sign; doing anything radical without it was illegal. In some cases it was a serious medical crime. But even that hadn't convinced Thor. What if Father would sign those papers, thinking that he was doing a right thing? Yes, Thor couldn't trust even his own Father, even though Odin cared for Loki. Thor knew it was insane and ridiculous, he knew he was being paranoid, but there was nothing he could do about it. Even though there was probably nothing worse could be done to Loki's mind than what had already been done, Thor was afraid and mistrustful. Ingibjörg had offered to let her keep taking care of Loki in hospital, though she didn't work there; it could be arranged, nevertheless. It could put Thor's mind at ease a little, because he trusted her... as much as he was capable of trusting anybody with his little brother. But even her offer hadn't made Thor feel better.

He came back to reality where he was still sitting on the bench with his Loki, still holding his hand that, as usual, felt small in his own. He squeezed it gently. They were going to spend two more weeks in Denmark, and Thor wasn't sure he wanted to come back. He tried to convince himself that whatever doctors were going to do was for Loki's good, but his chest hurt as if his heart was feeling that he was going to lose Loki for good, irreversibly; even his body. Helpless, angry tears welled into his eyes, but he blinked them away and pressed his brother closer to himself, wrapping his arm around the slim body. Slowly and gently he pressed his lips against the bridge of Loki's nose, not unlike he had kissed his dream Loki last time he had seen him. He felt like he had let down both Lokis.

~oOo~

And, as if it wasn't enough, he had another dream, apparently made to make him feel even less sane than before. He 'woke up' in a dream all alone in his own room back home. It was the painfully familiar music that woke him up. The piano music. Thor felt as if his heart had stuck inside his throat when he recognised it. Shivering, he sat up in his bed and watched his mobile phone on the bedside table. It was vibrating and the buttons were glowing in the darkness of his room. This music... Loki was the one who had installed it on Thor's phone, because he hated the music that had been playing every time he rang Thor. He didn't want to be associated with 'that crap', so he changed the said 'crap' into some classical piano music. Thor was sure it was famous, but he wouldn't be able to recall the title and the composer if his life depended on it.

And now he was staring at the phone and wasn't sure if he should pick it up, as if the mobile phone would explode if he touched it. Whatever it was, it wasn't normal; it felt so terribly wrong. Answering the phone felt like willingly letting the insanity in. But it kept vibrating, the music kept playing and, eventually, Thor just picked it up and answered it.

"Yes?.." he whispered, not trusting his voice. At first it was quiet, but then he could hear desperate sobs and his heart was in his throat again. "Loki..." he whispered. He could only hear sobs; his brother's. Thor could hear Loki struggling to say something, but miserable, broken cries were all he could produce, no longer just stifled sobs. It felt like Loki was far away, much farther than on the other end of the world, but somewhere beyond, where Thor couldn't reach; and the realisation of it was agonising.

"Loki, please, tell me how to get to you... I will come for you; I will take you home," Thor promised, his voice shook as he tried his best to hold back his own tears. But, again, sobs were the only answer he got; Loki sounded so devastated that it hurt physically to hear him. Thor was going insane and he was giving up on fighting it. Maybe if the insanity just took him, he wouldn't be in so much pain?

"I don't know what to do... I don't think I can help you. I thought I could, but..." he whispered, shaking his head; tears burned his eyes. The truth behind his words was too much to endure. He closed his eyes and let himself grieve and hurt. He would've given so much to be next to Loki right now. If his sanity was a price, he was willing to pay, but it didn't feel like even that would be enough to get him to Loki. So Thor allowed himself to feel the pain, as if there was nothing else left. And, really, was there?

Eventually, the sobs stopped and it was quiet. And Thor was all alone. Loki wasn't there any longer.

The dream felt painful enough for Thor to check his mobile phone in the morning. There were no calls, and, of course, there were no calls from one particular subscriber. There had been no calls from that subscriber for a very long time now.

Perhaps, for everybody's sake, it was time to let go?..


A/N: Yes, that hammer looks nothing like Mjölnir, I'm afraid. The handle is much longer and the head is somewhat smaller. Well, sledgehammer is a sledgehammer. It's just my whim, because I had a chance to hold a couple of very old war hammers and axes in my hands (I'm fond of old weapons). Two-handed axes and hammers impress me more, though I think someone without a muscular back and arms would easily damage their spine and joints, using such weapons during a fight. But it's hardly a problem for Thor. And Thor without a hammer even if it's just for a short time? What a heresy! I just couldn't have it, AU or not.