Chapter 14:
It's late, Loki thinks… Or early, he guesses. He doesn't know why. It just feels that way.
He doesn't feel like he slept much. Still feels tired. He keeps having dreams where he can see and hear and everything was just like before, and then he wakes up to nothing but this black and silence and he wishes… wishes he…
He tries pushing the thoughts away. He knows Mom would be upset if she knew the things he thinks sometimes. Thor too. Maybe even Dad. He doesn't think he could do it anyway, much as he wishes he could. Even like this, he's afraid to die.
Feeling his way along the wall, he tries keeping count of how many steps he takes. He knows it's exactly 31 steps from his bedroom door to the staircase, if he keeps his steps the same length. Over-thinking it is bad, he knows. His body will naturally have the same stride if he just lets it.
He knows also that he shouldn't be doing this on his own. He's supposed to wait in the mornings until Thor or Mom comes to help him, first to the bathroom so he can pee and brush his teeth, and then downstairs for breakfast.
But he'd tried laying there for what must have been an hour after waking up and he couldn't fall back asleep. And then he'd started to feel scared. He knows it's stupid. Knows there's nothing there that's going to hurt him. But it's so dark. It's always so dark, and he can't hear anything, and he… he didn't want to be alone. Didn't want to stay in his room, imagining hands crawling up from under his bed, grabbing him and dragging him under and then he'd be lost and alone forever.
Swallowing thickly, he tries to steel himself.
"It's not real." He says aloud, but he can't keep his heart from suddenly hammering against his ribcage, his breath coming quicker.
Thor's room is 38 paces away from his room. Mom and Dad's is 47. He's counted 15 so far, and realizes in that moment he's frozen.
Chastising himself inwardly, he starts up again, trying to keep his strides even, continuing to count.
"Sixteen, s-seventeen… eighteen." He speaks aloud and wishes he could hear his own voice. He tries to stay close to the wall, but he knows to keep his strides the same length, he can't cling to it.
"N-ninteen, twenty." He goes on to himself.
He's growing disgusted with his own fear.
What sort of coward is he, that he's so afraid he can't even make it down a hallway without his brother's or parents help? He knows how far it is to their rooms. He knows he can do this on his own.
Swallowing again, he breathes out slowly.
And then he straightens, moving forward again, shoving his fear down and keeping his pace steady and even.
Slowly, he gains more confidence as he goes, until he's reached 29 steps and makes the decision that, since its closer, he'll just go for Thor's room. He knows he's being a baby, but Thor won't mind. Thor never minds. Never shows that he does, anyway.
The thought though makes Loki pause, and he wonders, suddenly, if Thor is just pretending for his benefit.
What if his brother is really irritated by his constantly wanting and needing to be near him? What if he's just pretending it's alright, when really he's angry or even disgusted by it?
Doubt gnaws away at Loki then, and he feels abruptly dizzy with fear at the thought of Thor being angry with him for his weakness, for his cowardice. He thinks suddenly then that he shouldn't be here. That he should just go back to his own room and stop being such a baby. Stop being so stupid.
Panic seizes him, and he spins round, intending simply to go back, reassuring himself of the number of steps he's taken.
And then the world drops out from under him.
A gasp catches in his throat and, vaguely, Loki is aware that he's miscalculated. Badly miscalculated. But the thought hardly registers, fleeting and vanishing away as pure terror consumes him whole.
He's falling.
For a single, wild moment, he thinks he's somehow slipped through the gaps in the banister lining the hallway, forgetting entirely about the baby gates Mom had put in place to prevent exactly that. For a moment, he thinks he's going to hit the floor and break his neck and… and…
And then he lands, hard, against his shoulder and ribs, and he feels something crack.
Pain explodes through him and he must scream, but he can't hear anything and his breath is suddenly gone, rushing out of his lungs and refusing to come back.
And then he's rolling, over and over, fresh pain lancing through him with each turn, and again, somewhere, he realizes what's happening. Realizes he's fallen down the staircase, and still is falling. That he's hitting each step on the way down.
I'm going to die, he thinks madly, hysterically as he feels something inside of him shifting and breaking further apart with each impact.
Until finally he hits one, final time, a hard, thudding boom through his frame which leaves him gasping and sputtering where he lies, motionless.
He can't breathe. He can't… can't… oh God…
Burning fire races through his left shoulder, all the way down his arm, and dimly he's aware of how the limb is twisted awkwardly and wrongly beneath him. His ribs on both sides feel like knives through his insides, and he can't breathe.
He's hurt badly. Really, really badly. He knows that. He knows he needs help. He needs someone…
But when he tries to move, he finds he can't. His whole body feels numb and broken, and panic swells like a wave inside him.
"Mommy!" He tries calling out, but he can't get any air to his lungs. "Mommy! Papa!
"… Thor. P-please…"
It isn't enough. He can't do it. He doesn't have enough strength to yell.
He doesn't know when it was he started to cry.
Is only aware of it when he feels the wet warmth down his cheeks.
/
"Odin." Frigga sits up abruptly, strangely wide awake, shoving at her husbands shoulder. "Odin!" She hisses more sharply.
He groans tiredly.
"Mmm… wha?" He asks in an exhausted mumble, still clearly half asleep.
"Did you hear that?" She asks.
It takes a long, few seconds for him to answer.
"… I didn't hear anything." He mutters eventually.
"I heard something." Frigga presses, looking towards their bedroom door, her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest.
"It's probably jus the wind." Odin again mumbles, and Frigga shakes her head urgently.
"There isn't any wind." She says.
Besides which, it was something in the house. She's sure of it. Like a loud thud.
And she has the worst sort of feeling. Like something is very, very wrong.
"Odin," she shoves him against the shoulder again. "Odin, get up. We need to look. Something's wrong."
"Frigga, what…" Finally he starts to sit up, reaching clumsily for the bedside lamp and flicking it on, flooding the room with light. He turns, looking her in the face, but her eyes are still glued to the door. "What is it?" He asks, his own voice wary now. "What did you hear?"
"I… I don't know." She answers. "It was something. We need to go look."
Odin sighs, likely still feeling heavy with exhaustion. Neither of them had been able to get to sleep until late, and glancing at their bedside clock, Frigga sees it's four in the morning. They've only been sleeping three hours then.
"I'm sorry." She says, following suit as Odin throws the covers from him and begins to push himself from the bed. "It's just…"
He waves her off, shaking his head.
"No, it's alright. Better to be safe, right?" He smiles at her.
She nods, but finds herself unable to return the expression.
She's suddenly sick with worry and she doesn't even know why. Just this awful feeling she has.
Following closely on her husbands heels, they open their bedroom door and move out into the hallway. Odin flips on the light out there and they begin moving down, towards the staircase.
"Did it come from up here or…" Odin begins to question.
"I… I couldn't tell." She replies, looking over his shoulder nervously. "I should go check on the boys. Make sure everything's alright with them."
"Yeah," Odin starts. "that would be…"
The words die in his throat though and the both of them freeze as they hear, suddenly and clearly, the sound of whimpering, soft crying very obviously coming from a young child.
Frigga feels her stomach drop out from under her, her throat immediately closing tight.
She stands there, paralyzed, for what feels like an eternity before finally her body regains control, and then she's moving, rushing past Odin and rounding the wall leading onto the stairway.
And then she's frozen again, eyes wide and heart in her throat as her gaze falls across the unmoving form, strewn brokenly across the stairs landing.
It's Loki. And she knows instantly that he's fallen.
She goes numb to the tips of her fingers as suffocating fear takes hold of her.
"Oh God…" she breathes, already half a sob. And then she's stumbling down the steps, towards him. "Oh God, God…" she cries.
She can hear Odin coming round behind her, his footfalls heavy along the wooden stairs as he rushes to catch up.
This isn't happening, Frigga thinks hysterically. This isn't happening, oh God, this isn't happening.
She reaches the landing and immediately falls to her knees, reaching out towards her baby boy.
"Don't!" Odin snaps, not far behind.
She freezes, staring up at him with wide, horrified eyes, but he's got his own on Loki's still form, his face grim and worried.
"We shouldn't move him yet. We don't know…" His voice trails off, they're attention pulled back as Loki again whimpers pitifully, his face twisted in obvious agony, blotchy and red with tears and pain.
"M-mm-Mama…" he sobs weakly. "Mama."
"Oh God, my baby." Frigga's own voice comes out broken and thick.
He's lying on his back, his arm twisted awkwardly and at a wrong angle beneath him, and just to look at it, she can see it's surely broken. Oh, he must be in so much pain! And already, along the delicate and pale skin of his face, she can see bruises forming, and she knows later they'll blossom into an ugly, deep black and blue. She feels sick at the thought of those same bruises no doubt littering his fragile body, and she wonders with overwhelming dismay at what other damage has been done to him.
"Wh-what do we do?" She stammers out, her heart twisting and tearing asunder as he continues to call out for her and Odin and Thor, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"I'll call the paramedics." Odin tells her. "We shouldn't move him. His neck might be hurt."
"But he needs to know we're here!" Frigga cries, her tears streaming unbidden and hot down her cheeks now.
"S-sign to him then…" Odin suggests shakily, and Frigga knows he's as frightened as she is. "A-along his arm. He'll recognize you."
She nods, thinking it a good plan, and with shaking hands, she reaches out again, touching her fingers softly against Loki's skinny right arm. He flinches at the contact, but then he pauses, and a moment later, a harsh sob escapes past his lips.
"Mama…?" He cries, voice nearly too soft to hear, even at his side. "Mama?"
Frigga feels dizzy both with relief and agony at her son's call, and she scrambles to sign to him that she's there.
"Yes baby." She tells him. "You're… you're alright. We're going to get you help. Just hold on."
She reaches down, taking his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. She can hear Odin in the kitchen, speaking quickly and urgently on the telephone.
And then she hears a door at the top of the stairs open, and a moment later, Thor's voice calling out.
"Mom? Dad? What's going on?"
"Thor." She calls back, voice strangled as she struggles to keep her composure. "Honey, wait…"
She doesn't want him to see Loki. Not like this. Not when she knows her eldest will take all the blame onto himself, even when he's got nothing to do with it. Even when what's happened, whatever it is that's happened, is likely her and Odin's fault most of all.
But it's too late, and she sees Thor come into view at the stairs top, clad in nothing but his pajama bottoms.
"Mom…" he starts, voice thick with sleep and confusion.
"Thor, baby…" Frigga starts, and she can't keep the tremor out of her voice. Can't keep the sob back which breaks loose a moment later.
She can see Thor's eyes widen, even from here. Sees the horrified shock which replaces in an instant any exhaustion which had still clung to him.
"No…" he chokes out, strangled.
And then he's rushing down the steps.
"No, no, no." He cries, nearly stumbling and losing his footing the last few steps. "No."
He's there quickly, falling to his knees beside Frigga and, like her minutes before, beginning to reach out.
It's Frigga that stops him this time, catching hold of his hand.
"No," she tells him gently, and when he looks to her, she sees his eyes are already wet with tears. "your father is calling the paramedic's. We can't move him yet."
Thor looks as though he's going to be sick, face lined heavy with terror.
"What happened?" He half sobs. "What…"
Frigga shakes her head, her own face crumpling.
"We don't know. We… I heard something, and me and your father got up to look and… and found him like this. He must have fallen. I… we don't know…"
Thor looks away from her, down at Loki, and Frigga can tell it's a massive effort for him, not to reach out and scoop his little brother up into his arms.
"H-his arm looks broken." He says, voice strained and cracked. "He's…"
Whatever he's about to say is interrupted by Odin coming back into the room, striding towards them.
"The ambulance is on its way. They said five to ten minutes at the most." He tells them.
It's small relief, Frigga thinks as her husband settles in close to them, sitting on the staircases bottom step, looking down at Loki, still crying and whimpering almost soundlessly, his small hand squeezing Frigga's back with little strength.
He's got feeling below his neck, and she finds herself clinging to that with a fierce desperation. She can't bring herself to imagine anything more's wrong with her baby boy then a broken arm and some bad bruising. Not after everything. Not after he's already been so completely crippled. She couldn't cope with that. Couldn't live with it.
Bending down, she presses a light kiss to Loki's forehead, squeezing his hand tighter.
All they can do is wait now, and she prays silently for the ambulance to come quickly. Prays that everything will be alright. As alright as it ever can be again.
/
AN: As always, thank you to all my readers and reviewers! You guys are the best!