Hey guys! New chapter, i know, im proud of myself for doing another one so quickly :P Hope you enjoy! I own nothing :P
He was lost.
Lost in the darkness, lost in the depths of his own mind, swimming out across his memories, flashing past him at lightning speed, filling him with overwhelming feeling as he experienced each moment of his traumatic past before moving onto the next, no break between the blows. He flinched particularly violently when he witnessed his own abuse at the hands of his father and brother, when the thread was pulled taut as he screamed, tearing through his own flesh. His eyes filled with hatred and anger, barely hiding his fear as he froze, no longer feeling the detachment from the previous memories. This was real. This was too real.
And then suddenly the stiffness lifted, and he was free again, his lips bursting open in a fond smile. He had been found by Steve. He was passing through the memories of his recent time with the Avengers. He saw the fond smiles they gave him, the caring attention, how they treated him like a friend, as though Manhattan never happened, he had never tried to destroy their little speck of the earth, let alone trying to do so from inside their own home.
He saw his brother, holding him, crying over him, hugging him and brushing his hair back for him on his depressed days, holding him tight as he sobbed, wiping the tears away. Saw Bruce relentlessly checking over his wounds day after day, Steve making hot chocolate with the little marshmallows he loved so. He saw Tony in his workshop, flitting around as he spoke to Loki with no break in the flow, not that he ever minded. More recently he saw the widow and the hawk, less obvious in their kindness, but it was still there. The odd way the Hawk had of staying away but offering jokes at the expense of the others, playing tricks on them to keep him amused when he was down. The widow, keeping her distance, knowing he was uncomfortable around her and making sure not to polish her knives in his presence too often. And then they reached the most recent episode of his life, the pain flashed through his mind like hot pokers. He saw the memories through a film screen of shock, he felt the presence of the others on the jet, felt their care for him.
They were loving, they were kind, they were caring.
They were friends.
They were a reason to live, to thrive, to care.
And he was letting them down, and well, that just wouldn't do. He could be strong for them, he could overcome this because they wanted him to, and he wanted to make them proud of him.
But he couldn't deny the anger he felt. The urge to burn, to shred, to tear the faces from his captors, to make them writhe and scream as they had made him. He wanted them to burn from the inside out, he wanted their bones turned to ash, he wanted them to plead for his mercy in tearing their skulls from their heads as he gutted them. He felt the magic build up in his body, felt himself moving back towards the ground, a more solid quality returning to his body as his magic sparked between his fingers. His eyes flew open, and suddenly he could see.
If he could see, he could burn.
"Loki?" Ah, the Avengers. He softened a little at the sound of Banners voice, but it wasn't enough. It shocked him, loosing his control. He was so angry. He sat up slowly, turning to face the younger man, whose face melded into a frown as he noticed the glowing of his eyes, his anger tearing at his control, tendrils of magic leaking out, forming green wisps behind him, creeping out towards the walls of the room in preparation. Bruce reached to put a hand on his shoulder.
In hindsight, he probably should have realized that wasn't a good mood when the Gods magic was literally rolling off him in waves, an apathetic frown set in his lips.
Loki screamed, a feral growl finishing the cry, and the room was torn apart. The tendrils of his magic shredded through the walls, the glass smashing, splinters flying through the room, Tony ducking to a side and Bruce raising his arms to shield his face. The strange wind picked up again, something they had come to associate with bursts of Loki's magic. The floor was scorched, the curtains set on fire, the metal of the far wall curled inward, leaving gaping holes to the next room. The fixtures of the room, the chairs, the tables, lifted to be suspended in air, flying around Loki's head, his eyes literally emitting green light as he threw them across
The door opened -or not really opened as shoved aside in all its mangled glory, Tony mused- and Steve, Clint and Natasha burst into the room, freezing as they saw the state Loki was in. He was screaming something in Old Norse, not that they could understand him, and angry tears were streaming down his face. His arms were bleeding once more as he raked his long nails up and down them, scraping in his anxiety, the emotion getting to him. Thor reached the room at that moment, hammer in hand, probably thinking his brother was in danger of being kidnapped again. His eyes widened when he saw the situation, but he didn't freeze as the rest of them had. Instead he took a deep breath, reaching out his big, Norse arm to push them all back, a grim set to his lips.
"Fear not, my friends, I have dealt with Loki in such a tantrum before. But you must stay back and be silent. He will not react well when he realizes you have seen him in such a state. He is not aggrieved with you, but his own mind has been hurting him, I fear. All will be well."
Thor strode to the middle of the room, placing his hands over his brothers, pulling the nails from scratching his arms to prevent further damage. He held them to his chest, not flinching even slightly as the tendrils of Loki's emerald magic lashed out at him, opening gashes in his muscled biceps, or when it snatched at his hair, wrenching his head back. He gripped Loki, set like an anchor to the floor when the magic tugged at his ankles, trying to fling him off. He held and held until Loki was forced to snap his eyes to him, snarling out in the ancient language. Thor returned in kind, his face sad and his tone desperate. After only a little bit of rude prompting from Clint -"Uh, Thor buddy, you mind telling us what the fuck Loco Loki is saying?"- Thor was kind enough to translate the argument into the foreign tongue of English.
"Let go of me, brother, I have been hurt enough by you, by everyone, and now you must all be punished. You have made me pathetic and weak, and I shan't stand for it."
"Loki, brother, if you feel weak then your mind is mistaken, for you are stronger than any I know of. You are not weak, but you will be if you let this consume you so. I know I have hurt you, and my regret for that is deep, but I will not allow you to cause injury to others. Let us help you."
"Enough! You all pretend, you all act as if you can bear to be around me, but I know it for the lie it is!"
"There is no lie here, Loki. Brother please. The Avengers have come to love you as I do, and we wish to help. I will not pretend I am gladdened to hear you speak so freely, even if it is in anger."
Here, the magic in the room fell to a halt, and Loki sat on the floor with a thump, cross legged with his head in his hands. His voice came out a pitiful whimper, still in his native tongue.
"You can not help me."
Thor shook his head, crouching to pull his brother to him, curling his arms protectively around the thin body, hands rubbing along the back, frowning as he realized he could feel each bone of the spine from beneath his clothes.
"Please..let us try."
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