Chapter 21: When wisdom fails

It's a beautiful day to save lives. (Derek Shepherd)

Owen Hunt was not a person who easily panicked. After all, this would have been a disastrous character trait for a trauma surgeon who spent his time saving the lives of soldiers in war zones, bullets sometimes literally flying too close to his head. His ability to remain calm under stressful situations was what made him a good leader, a good doctor, a source of steadiness for all the people surrounding him.

Also now, he radiated this calm, as he was talking to his brother-in-law, even though normally he was not present when his patients were prepared for surgery and anesthetized.

Tony was family, though, and he really liked the other man, he was bringing out his protectiveness without even trying to, so, while under different circumstances, he would have hesitated performing such a major surgical intervention on someone related to him, he wanted to make sure that the engineer was as comfortable as possible.

Moreover, he knew his team, and he knew they were good. He wouldn't want anybody else to perform with them.

What did not really help was that Tony looked like he was going to jump off the table any second now, cables attached to him, and hoses going in and coming out of him be damned.

Ginny had looked as if she was going to faint any second when they had lead her out of the patient room Tony had occupied before, sharing a goodbye kiss and some threats of eternal diaper duty that made Tony laugh halfheartedly. Loki and Bruce were waiting for her outside the room, Fandral also was hovering around, and, curiously enough, also Miss Lewis was there.

Ben Warren and Bokhee were preparing Tony with him. Owen had chosen the veteran nurse and the older doctor on purpose. The anesthetist would make sure that Tony drifted off as easily as possible, and he would closely observe him.

Bokhee, while being small and diminutive, had this way to look at you over her glasses that made you want to be a good boy and eat all of your spinach even though you hated the green stuff.

Owen was pretty sure she was the only reason why Tony had not yet bailed on them.

The engineer was leaning back on the surgery table, closely watching as Ben attached another drip to the IV pole and placed the inhalation mask over his mouth and nose. The dark-skinned man smiled at him, his movements fast and secure, a telltale of years of experience.

"Ok… so… Uh, do you want me to count from 100 backwards? Or… I dunno… can you just talk to me? Please? Last time I had surgery I kinda just passed out because the only other option for anesthesia was a hammer to my head, and I really could've lived without the image of a scalpel coming closer to my chest before…", the younger man rambled, his voice dulled by the mask, and Owen instinctively reached out for his hand, squeezing it as the pace of the heart monitor increased a bit.

The redhead doctor chose an approach to calm the other man he had seen his sister use. Remind him where he was. Tell him of the situation.

"Last time you had surgery was in a cave in Afghanistan. This is your tower in New York, the medical bay is stuffed full of high end equipment, even though J.A.R.V.I.S. is looking down on every single screw of it, and I guess rightfully so, huh?"

Tony nodded at that, throwing a nervous glance at Bokhee as if he was still calculating his chances of winning against her when he started to run now.

Then he looked at Owen again, his glance so anxious. If the surgeon had not seen him take on the threat posed by the Quinjet that tried to attack the Penthouse, he would have never thought that Tony Stark actually was a person who worked quite well under pressure.

"Tell me I'm not running out of luck. Not now, not when I finally have found…" he started to slur, and Owen squeezed his hand.

"… not when I finally have found… her…"

The surgeon smiled reassuringly.

"Tones, we have Cristina Yang, the best cardiothoracic surgeon you will find, and don't tell her I said that, her ego is big enough. We have Calliope Torres whose bread and butter is repairing bones and preserving limbs. You have me, and believe me, I've patched up worse with people living to tell the story. Ben is a kickass anesthetist, Avery will work his magic, and in the last resort, we have a Norse Healing Goddess. What could possibly go wrong?!"

Tony sent him a lopsided grin as his eyelids started dropping.

"'m gonna haunt you 'f you off me…", the engineer threatened, making Owen snort behind his surgical mask.

"Please, all you have to do is sleep. We have to do all the hard work."

Tony mumbled something about 12 percent as his eyes closed completely, and also the rhythm of his heart calmed down. Ben nodded at Owen and as if on cue the first people started entering the OR, hands sterile and ready to go.

The trauma surgeon softly released Tony's hand, leaving the room to scrub in and join his doctors.

They had freed the area on Tony's chest they would be working on for the next hours, the reactor gleaming in this ethereal blue glow and humming softly, its loose casing surrounded by clotted blood and scars. However, they had not started, yet.

It was Cristina who handed the scalpel to him, looking at him with a silent plea. The others also seemed to be waiting for something.

Eír appeared slightly uncomfortable in the clothes, hairnet, mask and gloves she had been told to wear. The garments would not interfere with her abilities, yet, she felt odd in them. She threw a glance at the doctors, all of them seemingly to wait for something to happen, the dark-haired cardiologist holding out one of the sharp knives to the tall man at the other side of the table.

Owen finally took a deep breath before accepting the scalpel, his gaze fixed on Cristina before straying to Callie. Both women looked at him expectantly.

"It's a beautiful day to save lives", was what he said, borrowing the phrase from a dear lost friend, and obviously, this was not only the right thing to say, but it also was the signal to start.

The surgeons set out to tackle steps one till four on their list: Remove the old reactor casing, get the old reactor out, get a regular pacemaker in, and assess the damage.

Darcy Lewis was wondering whether it was possible to walk a ditch into marble floor, because that obviously was the goal Pepper Potts… err, Stark, had set herself today.

Not that she did not also feel like pacing. You did not learn every day that your you were the maybe-daughter of a national icon, that your maybe-brother who was nothing like the media painted him, needed urgent cardiothoracic surgery.

She had woken up after a restless night and found herself heading to the elevator, asking J.A.R.V.I.S. if she was allowed up there if she made breakfast for everybody. She was in the middle of nuking bacon, making scrambled eggs, frying sausages, brewing coffee, and whipping up some cupcake dough when one of the doors on the upper level opened.

Fandral was sneaking down, lifting his head and closing his eyes as he first smelled the godly odors of breakfast. He seemed to be torn between joining her in the kitchen and going towards the elevator to leave for the guest levels.

"Walk of shame, big guy? At least somebody had fun last night", the young woman joked, watching how the God flinched at her words as he decided to take the detour into the kitchen.

"Believe me, fair Lady Darcy, there would be no one more delighted than me should yesterevening have taken this turn. I was following my duty as a friend, though, something I have neglected for far too long. And if only I could ease Loki's mind for a few hours, it was worth it… even if he will never…" He stopped himself from revealing more.

By the time the blonde God had sat down, a plate with food appeared in front of him.

"So your very manly man-crush affections are not returned, Errol? Sorry to hear that, you two would make a cute couple", she grinned, before scooping also some sausages on his plate, followed by a generous amount of ketchup, ignoring how Fandral flustered at her question..

"Taste it before you diss it", she said as he ogled the red stuff suspiciously, handing over some cutlery. She put the rest of the food to the side to keep it warm, and then turned to the baking tray to get the first batch of cupcakes into the oven.

"How is he?" she asked when all Fandral did was eating quietly, watching her as she filled the dough into the molds while he at some point eagerly was licking the red sauce off his fork. Darcy just grinned. She would not eat raw tomatoes if her life depended on it – but after they had been processed to the marvel that good ketchup was, she'd bathe in the stuff if one let her.

"We… talked last night. I… I never realized how bad of a father Odin was, how bad of a home Asgard was, how bad a friend I have been… If letting him cry in my arms and sleep in my embrace is what it takes to make him feel better, I will gladly offer." This sounded sadder than he wanted.

Darcy just looked at him for a while before turning back to her dough.

"You know, in my ears that sounds like you are a pretty awesome friend in the moment."

The God simply returned to his breakfast.

Half an hour later people started pouring into the Penthouse, lured to the kitchen by the smell of breakfast, coffee, and fresh cake.

Fandral was on his second plate, declining the generous offer of a tiny cake because after inquiring the ingredients he found out that Darcy had used butter as well as milk which did never agree with his stomach, just as Loki stepped down the stairs, helping Stark like all those days before, the Lady Pepper following them closely. Both Gods evaded each other's glances by the time they were in the same area of the Penthouse, Loki helping to sit Stark down on the couch before disappearing into a corner after getting some coffee, some granola, and a Stark Pad.

Pepper was nibbling on some bacon before accepting one of the fresh cupcakes, never leaving Tony's side who was complaining that he was not even allowed coffee. Bruce shuffled out of his room only minutes later, being on his third cupcake when the redhead hottie doctor, Cristina Yang and Callie Torres appeared. They were also gladly accepting breakfast, and praising Darcy's eggs in a way that made her blush, before whisking Tony away to the medical bay.

The rest of the people in the Penthouse just trailed along. It was Loki who awkwardly looped his arm around Pepper when she left the patient room, struggling to maintain her composure. Darcy was, for some weird reason, not faring much better, actually, she felt quite close to tears, and Darcy Lewis did not cry, nope, nope, nope. So she simply sniffled, before following Fandral and Bruce into the elevator.

Pepper had not immediately started with pacing. She had settled down on the couch, grabbing a Stark Pad, reading something. It had put their very own Trickster God at ease enough to ask for the last one of the cupcakes and hiding back in his corner with his own tablet, far, far away from Fandral.

The Blonde was equipped with another Pad by J.A.R.V.I.S., sitting in the living room area, getting a start on playing angry birds.

Bruce excused himself at some point, mumbling something about paying Jane and the telemetric data a visit.

It was too quiet (if you neglected the sounds those birds made after being fired off by a slingshot).

So by the time Pepper Stark started pacing, Darcy Lewis very much felt like pacing, too. She was busy, though, with baking another batch of cupcakes, after the medical squad and who else had breakfast had polished off everything she had made before. J.A.R.V.I.S. had been a dear to organize for soy milk and some vegetable fat, so also their lactose intolerant God could have some cake.

Baking was calming.

It allowed her to focus.

To observe.

She bet that Fandral was completely unaware of the tiny glances the Trickster God at the other end of the room was sending him every now and then. She was wondering what their story was, was wondering what made the Swordsman so protective of the guy that had sent the Destroyer to Puente Antiguo.

Actually, she thought that she should be more pissed at Loki, after all, he had endangered her life. However, what little she had seen of him in the past few days did not paint the picture of a ruthless murderer, a crazed out psychopath.

Witnessing how everybody appeared to want to make sure that the Demigod was feeling comfortable, the sheer protectiveness Tony had displayed already during the press conference, the way Thor was making sure that his baby brother was safe, it made her decide that maybe he did not deserve being chewed out about it the way she had planned, should she ever meet him.

She was lacking her taser, anyway.

So she resorted to secretly watching them, trying to figure out what might have happened the previous night.

Fandral did not know when they had drifted off to sleep, or when Loki had scooted closer. What he knew was that when he woke up in the middle of the night, briefly wondering why he was still wearing his regular getup in bed, he had turned to his side, his arms loosely closed around the slim body right next to him.

Loki was not hugging him back, his arms were folded in front of his chest, his hands resting above his heart, his head pillowed against the blonde God's chest, breathing softly. Still, since one of Fandral's arms was under the Trickster God's body, he was trapped there if he did not want to wake the other man. And Loki really looked like he could use the rest.

Unconsciously, the Blonde hugged him a little closer, burying his nose against Loki's hair. It had been more than a century ago when he had woken up in a similar position, the first time that the other man had not made him leave directly after intercourse or a few minutes of cuddling. Fandral knew he was a substitute back then, a means to, at least for a little while, forget about Sigyn, to forget about the boys and the betrayal by the royal family. A tiny bit of him had hoped it might turn into more, eventually. He had no clue how it might have worked out in the end, after all, Loki was a Prince, and while Fandral's status as lothario was well accepted, same-gender relationships were not. Not at all.

He had been on one of his rare visits to his family, his mother being the only one who was happy to see him, when the murder of Loki's family had taken place. Thor ended up with a broken nose when he was bragging to his shield brother about his glorious task fulfilled for Odin, and Fandral was pretty sure that back then, the older Odinson had not really understood why his friend confronted him this directly and violently.

He and Sif never had been the best friends, but ever since these events had taken place, ever since he knew about her favoring the murder of innocent people, children even, simply by the excuse a dubious prophecy gave, he was even wearier around her.

Volstagg never opened his mouth again concerning the murder of Loki's family when Fandral very graphically described what could happen to his wife and children if Odin was in a bad mood.

Hogun did not say anything, but then, he rarely talked. He observed, though, closely. Too closely, as they would learn later.

After throwing a few more scathing looks at his 'friends', Fandral took the younger God out of the room and back to his own chambers, sat him down on one of the green velvet sofas there, equipped him with a mug of mead and just sat there, on a chair, drinking, at some point grabbing one of Loki's books and starting to read. He had learned quite a lot during that time.

It took a few days of doing so to convince Loki that this was not just some conspiracy to gloat over his pain.

The Swordsman had bit his tongue to keep from declaring that he would chose Loki's company over that of child murderers any time, because that would have come out just wrong.

When those big green eyes looked at him one day, brimming with tears, a hushed voice asking "Why did they spare me? Why could they not simply kill me, too?" Fandral had sat down right next to Loki, gathering him in his arms, reminiscing about this frightened boy who faced down the older brutes in his class for the very first time.

How this had ended them up in bed, the younger God screaming himself hoarse, while Fandral was biting down hard on the other man's shoulder when they climaxed, he did not really remember. What he remembered was how embarrassed Loki had been afterwards, having taken the receiving role (and enjoying it), and how flustered he was when Fandral nonchalantly offered to switch things up the next time.

Despite having lived for almost two millennia, Loki was still so young, so biased by what Asgard believed to be the norm. Fandral had left his home for more than one reason. Men did not lie with men, his father, his entire family had been scandalized when finding out that the youngest son did not make any differences in gender concerning the people he took to bed.

It was an advantage, having made it into Thor's illustrious round of merry men. He was allowed to have his quirks. Volstagg was the big bear who could out-eat everyone in this realm. Hogun was the grim, strong, quiet one. Fandral willingly played the role of the enticer. Not even Sif was commenting on his tastes. Being a peasant was by far worse to her, it seemed.

And even though he threw Fandral out after this first night, and every night that followed after that first fateful one, Loki came back, so curious, so touch starved, never even mentioning the other God's offer to switch.

The night Loki had fallen asleep in his arms, Fandral had been elated and dared starting to think over his life. He was closer to Volstagg in age than to any of the others, even though he had kept himself in a better shape, most people believed him younger than Thor. Maybe it would be nice, settling down, having a significant other instead of a woman or man in every port.

He never got around to telling Loki any of these thoughts, first of all because the younger man still was traumatized by the loss of his family, he would not spring this on him so soon.

Also, Loki never showed up for their next secret meeting. Fandral found him a few hours later, in a hallway, bleeding, broken, limping horribly, and refusing to be taken to a healer. He was still wondering that the dark-haired God had allowed him to help cleaning him up, seeing the injuries the offender had caused.

"You have to tell someone, Loki."

"Whom should I tell, Fandral? My father who ordered to assassinate my wife and children? My mother who knew about the prophecy and decided to choose him over me? My brother, who actively participated? Who? Tell me, who would believe me?!"

He sat down next to Loki, watching how the green glimmer of his magic still roamed over the Trickster, working on his injuries. He flinched away, when the Blonde reached out.

"Tell me."

Loki had sighed at this, sadly looking at the other man, it was clear that he did not believe that it would change anything. Loki was no stranger to torture, Odin had taken care of that. The way he narrated his story, neither was he a stranger to rape. Fandral did not want to believe when he learned who the aggressor was – but what reason would Loki have to lie?

He had watched the Trickster sleep that night, perched on a chair in a corner, as Loki refused to let him get closer, but was too exhausted to fight Fandral's stubborn refusal to leave, had watched how he jerked awake only to cry himself back into sleep. It hurt the blonde God how his friend took everything that was done to him for granted, not even seeking help, and in a way, this happened out of self-preservation. Odin was rather unpredictable when it came to his sense of justice. He could smite Loki's aggressor as well as he could decide that his second son was simply lying – and punish Loki for asking for help

It was then that he swore that this time the person who had harmed his friend would be pay for what was done.

Fandral had waited up for Hogun the next day. The Vanir never was talkative, but he was wearing a grin that the other God wanted to wipe off his face the moment he saw him, cursing himself for having had the tiniest doubt in Loki's tale. Hogun had the nerve to grin at him, and in one of the rare occasions he did talk, he tried to compare their experiences with Asgard's second Prince.

The Swordsman's foil only left one obvious wound, slicing the Vanir's left cheek open. The other injuries he caused Hogun kept well hidden, and he dared not approaching Loki anymore. Hogun was strong. But Fandral was swift. And precise. He knew exactly which nerves to sever without causing too much collateral damage.

Fandral had sheathed his rapier, staring at the man on the floor, blood seeping between his fingers that were clutching his crotch. He had made sure that Hogun would not be able to repeat his deed.

"And if you want to keep it for pissing, I will never see you in Loki's vicinity again."

Hogun indeed stayed away, but also Loki kept distancing himself, and at some point, Fandral supposed, he just gave up fighting for their friendship the more times he was rejected.

He regretted this now, more than anything else in his life. Loki had only revealed tiny glimpses of what had happened since the fateful day of Thor's coronation, and Fandral had the feeling that things would have turned out different if the Trickster God had had at least one person to rely on in Asgard. One person to have his back.

Instead, he had no-one, he did not know who he was, and everybody else was once more running after Thor.

No wonder that he snapped.

Fandral pulled the man in his arms closer, his lips pressing against the crown of Loki's head.

"I am sorry…" he whispered. "Norns, I am so sorry…"

The other God did not react, even though Fandral was not really sure if Loki was asleep or not. With him you never knew.

At least he did not jump out of his arms as if he had been burned. That was an improvement, after all.

With that in mind, Fandral closed his eyes again, a tiny smile on his lips. He would cope with a night spent in his regular clothes, it would not be the first night spent like this. If he could make his friend feel save, give him one carefree night, this would be worth it.

Cristina had forgotten that Eír was even in the room when she started working on Tony. The Goddess was standing at the head end of the table, next to Ben, and the cardiologist rarely looked at the anesthetist when she was working. She was trusting that they were doing their job, keeping the patients under and pain free while she was doing the hard work.

She gritted her teeth as Owen made the first cut, seeing the casing move as the scalpel pressed down. A cave. A fucking cave in fucking Afghanistan with a physicist who had his anatomical knowledge simply due to the fact that this kind of injuries happened there any day. In a way, Tony Stark was lucky that war was a regular occurrence in this part of the world.

It still didn't mean that he deserved surgery in a cave without any proper anesthesia or analgesia, the actual surgery performed with instruments that resembled a rusty spoon better than anything you would find in a regular OR.

It was not easy to remove the casing. They had to keep the reactor in place as good as possible while removing skin, wire, and whatever else Ho Yinsen had used to fix the casing to the bone. The minute the magnet was moved or they pulled at one of the wires, the rhythm of the heart became unstable, it was accelerating, something that gave Cristina a headache. If the sinus node was affected, Tony's heartrate should be decreasing without the pacemaker.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., is there any shrapnel close to the superior vena cava? Is there anything that might be putting pressure on the node when we move the reactor?" They had looked at this. She had detailed scans of everything, she knew this heart, inside out. And still, it did not react the way it was supposed to do."

"There are no metal shards, Dr. Yang. There appears to be scar tissue that reaches into the epicardium, though."

Cristina did not know whether the AI had updated his equipment in the OR or was extrapolating from the scans they already had. She was cursing nevertheless that they had overseen this.

"Might put pressure on the node, therefore having it firing faster. I guess there was one of the metal pieces that were removed, ", Owen offered oh so helpfully, making her look up briefly before turning back to the reactor.

"But then there has to be something that keeps it from putting pressure on it when the magnet is working", Callie piped up, her hands working faster on the casing.

"There is a shard close to the sinus venarum", J.A.R.V.I.S. offered, not continuing with a diagnosis because he was still evaluating the scans he had.

"If that's somehow hooked into the tissue, the magnet might provide enough leverage to pull the scar tissue away from the sinus node." Owen watched how Cristina's hands stilled for a second, her almond shaped eyes searching his again.

"If we remove the shard or the magnet, his heart's gonna react like a rodeo bull", Dr. Torres sighed, before directing her eyes at Eír. "I guess there will be a lot of work for you… once we figured out to get him off his reactor…"

"Well, we still need to get that thing out, they might as well have fixed the casing with chewing gum in that fricking cave. J.A.R.V.I.S., how far can we remove the magnet before it's losing its effect on the shards?"

The AI remained silent for a few moments before announcing that the effect of the magnet should still be strong enough about two feet over Sir's chest."

Dark eyes locked on sky blue ones again, before the cardiologist turned, looking at the Asgardian healer. "D'ya think that's far enough for your Mojo to work?" Because they would need it to work. If they removed the shard, there was nothing to keep the scar tissue away from the sinus node anymore, driving Tony's heart into a constant arrhythmia.

Eír just looked at her. How was she supposed to know that? In the moment, this thing inside the mortal's chest kept her from telling even the simplest things, she could not even diagnose if he had a cold!

"I… I can only answer this question once the reactor was removed, Lady Cristina. The element is blocking my skills, I only have a very faint image of the Lord Stark in the moment." And faint was the understatement of the century. She was not even sure if a soul forge would have helped. In the moment, any scan, any image the mortals could provide of the Man of Iron's interiors was better than her grip on the situation.

Her answer only caused another sigh, both mortal doctors once more seeking eye contact, as if they were communicating without words.

"Okay… change of plans", Cristina announced.

"We need something to hold the magnet in place over the chest. Once it's out, we will see if we need the regular pacemaker, or not, and then we'll take care of the casing and the bones. Eír, you will let us know if the reactor is far enough away. If not, we have to figure out a way to remove the scar tissue to stabilize the rhythm. Only then I will remove the other shrapnel."

Eír witnessed in awe how in a matter of thirty minutes the Lady Calliope and Lord Stark's ethereal voice from the ceiling manufactured something out of metal plates and rods that J.A.R.V.I.S. provided that might hold the reactor. Little did she know that the other woman was constructing metal cages to stabilize all sorts of broken bones all the time, it was a piece of cake to fabricate something to hold a magnet at a certain height. In the meantime, her colleagues were still working on the casing.

When the construction was securely fastened to the overhead lights, Dr. Hunt had finished cutting thread and removing scarred skin and announced that he would remove the reactor now.

With the first quick turn, Tony's heart rate increased, having the surgeon slow down instantly. All of them were observing the monitor as Owen continued, steady hands turning the reactor further until it came loose.

Thankfully without any further leaps in the heart rate.

While Owen slowly removed the reactor, fastening it to Callie's holder still very close to Tony's body, Cristina sighed once more.

Well. Of course it would not be as easy as they had thought. This was Tony Stark, after all. He was known not to be an easy patient.

Once the reactor was fixed, they started to lift the entire construct carefully, to still have all of the shrapnel in the magnet's field while providing them the most space to be able to work.

They had not even managed half a foot when Eír gasped, her hands reaching out to cradle the sides of Tony's head, her gloved fingers slightly digging into the hairnet he was wearing and the thick brunet curls beneath it.

Heads snapped around at the sound of a shattering cup as the porcelain met the marble floor, just in time to see Loki's head fly back against the headrest of his chair, his fingers of the other hand losing their grip on the tablet computer which was dropping into his lap.

His hand that had been holding said cup was clawing at his chest, right over his heart, and he was panting as the first people rushed over to figure out what was wrong. It took him a while to focus on his breathing, to force away the onslaught of emotions, of this weird experience of another person's bodily functions and health status that he had heard of experienced healers witnessing sometimes.

This was what Anthony would have felt like to him had he not had the reactor in his chest, and it made his skin itch that the other man had to live with this – shattered bones, metal piercing his skin, shredding his muscles, threatening his life, a gaping hole filled by even more metal to house the device that would save his life.

He could feel the slight remnants of the poisoning Anthony had mentioned, his liver and his stomach had suffered and not been completely restored by purging the heavy metal from his system. It must have been hard to keep any food down back then, maybe he had relied on a liquid diet that would be easier to digest.

Eír would be able to heal these things. He was not so sure about the damage that had been done to the nerve bundle that was setting the pace of Anthony's heart, but he was no trained healer.

She could not do anything about the missing part of the sternum, even though she could heal the fractured part of it. But this had already been included in the plan with the artificial ribcage. J.A.R.V.I.S. had been surprisingly fast with providing plans for it and manufacturing it later on, obviously only having waited for the best opportunity to help his creator.

From the glimpses he had taken on the plans, the new housing of the rector would be far more comfortable for Anthony, neither putting pressure on his lungs or his battered chest. He did not even want to imagine the kind of pain the engineer had been in on a daily basis. If he had to keep the magnet in his chest, this was at least favorable to the current situation…

"… should get one of the doctors? He's not responding to anything!"

Loki was blinking to that, ripped out of his musings, realizing that he was still clawing his own chest. Lady Pepper's hand was resting on his shoulder. Fandral was halfway squatting in front of him, his hands reaching both sides of his head just now, making him look at the other God.

Loki instantly loathed the fact that he caused his friend this much distress, the Swordsman was worrying already enough for him, and yes, he knew that Fandral worried.

He did not yet know what to make out of that fact, though.

"Loki. Say something. What happened?"

He focused on the face of the warrior in front of him, wondering how Fandral would look if he trimmed his beard in a different way, maybe more like Anthony, and got his hair cut. It was falling into his eyes. He liked Fandral's eyes. They were smiling at him when the Blonde smiled. It was something that he saw very rarely in other people.

"Ok, that's it. J.A.R.V.I.S., Loki just had a stroke or something. Call an ambulance, or get one of the doctors up here, we need help."

That had been the Lady Darcy's voice. The entire Penthouse still smelt like the cupcakes she had made, they had been delicious. Fandral had been skeptical at first when she told him that the second batch would be made in a way that also he could process them without the bloating and belly cramps.

Nobody on Asgard cared if you could not digest certain food groups. Humans obviously found ways around those ailments.

Loki was happy that Fandral could eat cake now.

"I cannot detect anything that would point to a stroke, Miss Lewis. I have notified Dr. Kepner, nevertheless. She and Dr. Avery will be here in a minute", the AI announced, also sounding slightly worried due to the lack of response from their resident Demigod.

He started to really snap out of his stupor once a flash light was shone into his eyes. Again. It made him turn his head away and squeeze his eyes shut to get rid of the spots he was seeing now, his hand that still had been clawing his chest reaching up to wipe it over his face.

"Why do you mortals insist on shining blinding light into one's eyes?!" he questioned the woman with the auburn hair in front of him once he could open his eyes again.

"Well, the reflexes of your pupils at least tell us something about your brain function, when certain Gods decide to take a vacation in their mind without informing anyone!" the redhead doctor scolded him before holding up her hand, her forefinger sticking out. "Follow my finger with your eyes!"

Loki did as ordered before he had even the time to frown, and focused his gaze on the group of people behind her once she lowered her hand, grabbing his wrist to take his pulse.

Her former husband and father of her child was standing there, the baby sleeping in his arms. The Lady Darcy had closed up to them to take a look at the tiny girl.

Fandral and the Lady Pepper were still hovering close by.

"Okay, I cannot find anything obvious, could have been an epileptic episode. We should take you to a hospital… or downstairs, I guess Mr. Stark has all the equipment that we need to perform a few tests."

Loki sighed at that, finally sitting up straighter in his chair. He was not used to people fussing over him. Worrying about him. It was a strange feeling to him, leaving him flustered and wondering what those people might want in return. He was not quite sure he had anything he could offer them.

"I assure you, Dr. Kepner, it is nothing serious", he said, even if he did not know what an epileptic episode was. The woman looked everything but convinced.

His eyes briefly flickered to the Lady Pepper before he continued.

"Anthony's reactor has been removed. I do believe that Eír might have had a similar reaction to the element no longer shielding his body. I am an experienced mage, but not a trained healer… the… reveal… of the damage took me by surprise."

He held Lady Pepper's gaze, observed how her eyes started to water because she obviously had prepared herself for the worst and now feared it coming true.

"Anthony will be fine", he said, aiming a small smile at his savior's wife.

He had expected the small sob that freed itself from her throat, her hands covering her mouth.

Pepper was rather grateful that she was standing close to a couch as her knees decided to turn into pudding.

Eír's fingers trembled with effort as she painstakingly slowly healed every laceration that was left behind as Dr. Yang and Dr. Hunt removed yet another shard. She had been able to reduce the scar tissue that was affecting the sinus node enough so they could detach and take out the one metal fragment that was responsible for pulling it away.

Unfortunately, she could not heal the bundle of nerves itself. While there was no shard to be removed, it had been damaged, most likely by a fragment that had been removed during the initial surgery. Dr. Yang had been speculating loudly that the adrenalin from the abduction and his injuries had kept the Lord Stark's heart rate elevated for long enough until magnet hat been fit in which had taken over not only keeping the fragments from moving, but also sent steady impulses to the nerve node and the adjacent fibers. Whoever this physicist in Afghanistan had been, he had done good work.

It was only a matter of minutes, and they had focused on the scar tissue and the metal piece close by, this time observing the expected effect of Stark's heart slowing down due to the lack of the pacemaker.

But this had been part of the plan, anyway. The tiny box that Dr. Yang connected to the heart restored a steady rhythm, and they could focus on removing the other fragments.

Whenever Cristina was busy with one of the pieces, steady hands removing them as slowly as possible, the Goddess of Healing let her magic roam through the mortal's body, healing whatever other ailments she could find. His liver and his stomach had suffered damage by the heavy metal poisoning that had been mentioned in his medical history.

There were torn muscle fibers and sprained bones and joints that most probably resulted from the battle of New York a few days ago. There was a tiny amount of mutated cells in his pancreas forming a mass that would become dangerous in a few years if untreated.

So whenever she was not needed to close the wounds left behind by the shrapnel, Eír continued healing whatever else she could find in Tony's body that might affect his health, once scaring Dr. Warren as she was working on a slight case of arteriosclerosis and having the Lord Stark's blood pressure drop a bit after she was done.

She was scolded like an undergraduate healer (and under her face mask also blushing like one) by Dr. Hunt when she stated that it had been her doing, and from then on announced on what she was working and what effects they might have to expect.

They removed all of the seventeen shards that still stuck in and around the Lord Stark's heart, a heavy sigh escaping from more than one person around the surgery table as the last wound closed under Eír's efforts.

Cristina straightened her back, some of her joints cracking as she did so.

"Ok. Part one accomplished, great work everyone. Does anybody need a break? Eír, do you need something? We have some time while Callie prepares the ribcage. J.A.R.V.I.S., why is Dr. Avery not here? We will need him to fix the skin around the opening for the reactor…?"

The doctor in question entered the OR just then, hearing the question and sighing while nurse Carol was helping him into his gear.

"We had a little emergency upstairs when you took out the reactor. You might want to take a look at Loki after we're done here, Miss Eír, he almost passed out and was unresponsive for a few minutes. April is still trying to talk him into an EEG and MRT, quite unsuccessfully, I have to add, but up to now I've never seen anyone withstand her nagging."

They could almost hear the smirk underneath the facemask. Owen just sent the younger man a look. Whenever Catherine Avery was not around, whenever Jackson was thinking for himself instead of letting her waltz over him, the trauma surgeon could see why his second in command had fallen for the plastic surgeon. The trauma with their first child had driven them apart, and yes, both of them had handled it wrong. April had launched herself into her doctors without borders adventure, fading out the drama she left at home. Jackson had sat at home, worrying for his wife, but never telling her what was going on in his head.

He hoped that baby Alexis was a wakeup call for both of them.

Eír also looked at the doctor with the darker skin and the stunning blue eyes.

"The removal of Lord Stark's reactor also might have affected Prince Loki. He is no trained healer, so he may have been overwhelmed. I shall tend to him once we are finished here…"

Callie chose this moment to get her bone saw ready, startling not only the Goddess of Healing while Owen moved the reactor further out of the way to give all of the people who would be needed to get the prosthetics for the ribcage in place.

"Okay, guys. Ready for part two?"

Cristina and the orthopedist had just changed places, Callie getting to work as enthusiastically as always, when a frantic call through J.A.R.V.I.S.'s speakers interrupted the noises of the saw.

"Whatever you are doing down there, you have to stop it immediately!"

There was something clamped to his forefinger. And he could hear a soft beeping from somewhere behind his bed. Loki groaned as he woke, his head thrumming with piercing pain right behind his eyes as he tried to open them, his joints aching as he tried to move.

He gave up on that instantly when the throbbing in his head was accompanied by nausea. When he finally managed to open his eyes and take a look around, he realized that this was not his bedroom. A faint light was illuminating the chamber; there were monitors and other medical equipment. So… he was in the infirmary.

The big question was why was he here?

"Eír said I should scold you for monitoring the Lord Stark so closely", a silent voice said, having Loki slightly turn his head into the direction it was coming from.

Fandral was curled up in a rather comfortable looking wingback chair, a blanket wrapped around his large body, blinking tiredly as his gaze encountered the other man's.

"What… what happened…?" Loki whispered back, turning to his side into a more comfortable position, and these movements alone made him seasick. He was glad that the other God cared enough to keep his voice down, that the room was dark all around them. Fandral shifted on the chair, his legs pulling a footrest closer, tightening his blanket around himself as he leaned his head against his arm resting against the side of the backrest.

"You passed out. The Lady Eír had to leave the surgery room, because Dr. Kepner could not help you. Apparently, human pain medication does not work on you that well. The Lady April was afraid she would give you too high a dose."

Loki was still confused… yes, he had monitored Anthony's status, he was faintly feeling how the shards had been plucked out of his chest, he had witnessed how Eír had let her magic roam through the mortal's body, restoring more of his health than she had ever been asked for.

He did not understand what had happened then. So he just kept looking at Fandral.

"Dr. Hunt moved the reactor away from Lord Stark's body when they did not need it anymore to keep the shrapnel at bay, and you witnessed without any dampening how Dr. Torres cut into his sternum."

Loki hummed silently, squeezing his eyes shut as the vibrations from his own voice reverberated in his head.

"Eír cast a sleeping spell on you and took care that the reactor was kept close to Lord Stark for the rest of the procedure. She wants to talk to you in the morrow. How are you feeling?" the Swordsman continued, not changing his position.

"My head hurts… and I am thirsty… and queasy…", Loki answered, belatedly realizing that normally he would not have revealed something like this. He was still shocked by the sudden assault of awareness concerning Anthony's condition. How a man, a mortal, could survive this massive conglomeration of injuries and poisoning amazed him. He was even more surprised by the way of how his entire situation had been blocked out from both magic users in the tower by the reactor. Whatever Anthony had created there, it was powerful.

And potentially dangerous.

But what was not dangerous nowadays?

"She said that this would happen. Just try to sleep. I can get Eír if it hurts too badly, but she was quite exhausted from the surgery." Fandral rubbed his cheek against his arm, his hand still cradling his own head, obviously this position had been comfortable. With a sigh he sat up, then, and got up from the chair.

"I will fetch you some water. Dr. Hunt is still awake, monitoring the Lord Stark, maybe he can give you something against the nausea, humans obviously invented pills against everything…"

Loki hummed again and immediately regretted it as his head continued throbbing. He had been present when the Lady Darcy had talked Fandral into trying one of her tiny cakes and her speech about so-called Lactase-pills that you could get in any pharmacy (whatever that was) that might help him eat also regular stuff containing dairy. Fandral was already halfway through the door, when Loki addressed him again.

"The surgery is over? How is Anthony?"

The other man simply smiled. Obviously, Loki was not the only one who was relieved.

"He is sleeping as well, but according to Eír and the human doctors he is as good as new. The Lady Pepper has joined him in the infirmary and is spending the night there. The Lady Darcy is resting on a chair in the same chamber. Clint and Mr. Holmes tried camping out on the floor but were shooed out by the Lady April. You have been out for more than half of the day."

The Blonde now was yawning loudly, before pushing down the door handle, leaving Loki alone with his thoughts.

In the past few days, Anthony's situation, his own worries for the human he had started to consider a friend, his worries for the Lady Pepper and her unborn child had overshadowed everything that might be awaiting him.

But now, that the surgery had been a success, the knowledge that he would have to go back to the Realm Eternal soon, even if it was together with Stark, was weighing him down again.

Normally, he would have spent his time making plans, working out ways to withstand the confrontations that for sure would come. In Asgard's eyes, Anthony was nothing but an unimportant child, they would not care much about his testimonial, about his evidence. At least Eír could prove that the element in Anthony's chest made him immune to Loki's tricks.

Nobody would believe Agent Barton should he decide to act as a witness. They would simply claim that Loki was still controlling him.

Most of the people would not believe him simply because it was him.

Sif would do everything to turn everybody willing to listen to her against him. Volstagg would be one of the first to be turned.

Heimdall had always hated him.

People at the court hated him.

He would have to be very careful when returning to the Realm Eternal. Thor and Frigga most probably would deflect a lot of insults and attempts to attack him, but they could not always be around.

If he stayed too close to Anthony, he might put him in danger, too…

This was not good… he had to prepare himself, he had to make plans, he had to figure out how…

A strong hand pushed him down into his pillow when he had not even really started to get up, making him open his eyes, only to stare into Fandral's worried face.

"And if I have to climb into bed with you again, you will stay here for the rest of the night."

This time, the blonde God did not hush his voice, causing Loki to wince at the pain in his head again. The next time he managed to open his eyes, Fandral had squatted down next to the bed, holding the glass with water in his hand.

"I apologize, I should not have been this loud. But you looked like you were about to escape. Whatever ails you, it can wait until the morrow…"

Those eyes, those green, green eyes were looking at him, and while Fandral could not make out much in the dim light in the room, dark enough to sleep, but bright enough to not fall over the furniture in unknown surroundings, he was sure that they once more were brimming with tears.

It made him put the pill Dr. Hunt had given to him (with a comment about how this thing could knock an elephant out, whatever that was, so it should work on Loki) onto the nightstand before his fingers found their way to Loki's head, softly carding through the long, black tresses.

"I will be here, Loki. In this tower, there are friends, people who can help, people who care… you are safe here."

The dark haired God sighed.

"You should leave", he whispered then, closing his eyes so he did not have to look at the other.

"I'm not going anywhere. I let you push me away already once, and see where this ended. I can be stubborn, too, you know, that is not only your and Thor's prerogative."

Loki opened his eyes again, only small slits, wide enough to see the Swordsman.

"You should stay away. As far as you can. Everybody who ever associated themselves with me, every person I dared to take to my heart has been hurt or is dead."

Fandral had to get closer to understand him, his head ending up on the mattress, his forehead touching Loki's. His fingers came away with wetness as he moved his hand from the soft hair to touch the other God's cheek, caressing it.

"Don't risk your life. Not for me", Loki whispered, confused by the outcome of this weird conversation. Back then he had used the Swordsman for distraction… it might have turned into something else, but whatever it was, it had been nipped in the bud.

What did Fandral want from him? Why… did he insist to stay close? Why was he comforting him? The Blonde could have everyone, why his interest in the dark God of Chaos and Lies? What was the reason behind this? What would be the price for having his friendship?

Could he afford it?

Fandral just hushed him, his nose brushing Loki's, his hand still cradling his face.

"Let me be the judge of that, will you? And now, please stop thinking so hard, it will leave permanent lines in your pretty face. Dr. Hunt gave me some medication that should help the nausea. I will stay in this chair, so if you need anything, just let me know…"

Very deep inside, Loki mourned the loss of contact as Fandral moved away, reaching for the pill again, helping Loki to drink something along with it. He indeed marched back to the wingback chair, settling into it again, trying to find that comfortable position he had been in before.

"What do you want from me, Fandral?" He had not much left to give. He was not even sure if he wanted to. The past very painfully had shown him that things turned out in the worst way they could.

The Blonde shifted in his chair, pulling the blanket up to his ears.

"Anything you are willing to give. And now sleep."

Hah.

Sleep.

As if sleep would come easily after a day like this.