Thanks to Kurtgleelove, Dazja, Maia2, thestralrider, ArainaHaldthin, livelauglove, Yaraslava Rada, Tsukiau, Hiddleslover, Vamp-Fledging, Evilcupcake696, Ms. Fairweather, and Smiley for their reviews.

Hiddleslover: I don't know what comic cannon is, but as far as my headcannon goes, they age at a normal human pace until they reach adulthood when they slow way down.

...

Even a man of infinite patience would get bored and restless after living in a space only two feet high for so long that he lost track of time.

The beginning hadn't been too terribly bad, with all the cleaning Loki had to do and then setting up his living space. He managed to make it comfortable enough, considering the location, and was confident with the supplies he had gathered that he would stay hidden for a long, long time.

However, once the space was clean he was left in the dark, lying on his back staring at the blackness, or reading the books he had gathered. Very occasionally, he listened to the pounding of feet on the stage boards as dancers and actors rehearsed and performed. Even rarer were musical organizations, whose talent ranged from the hellish to the sublime.

The worse part was the nightmares. He was afraid to sleep, just in case one of those performing groups came in while he slept and he woke from a nightmare. Often he bruised his forehead against the stageboards from his sudden wakefulness, his throat parched and raw from screaming in his sleep. Sometimes he wondered if he was going mad, especially when he saw the faces from his nightmares leering at him through the darkness with his waking eyes.

Even without the nightmares, Loki had a hard time falling asleep. He was growing rapidly again, and his whole body ached with the sudden stretching of his bones against his muscles and skin. Sometimes when he woke, he would find that the clothing that was too loose when he had fallen asleep were too tight on his frame. The pain from growing so quicky hurt so much that at times he had to stuff articles of clothing into his mouth to keep from whimpering aloud. He had planned for this growth, however, and had clothes ranging in sizes from what he needed at the moment to adulthood.

Food was yet another problem. He quickly learned that when he opened a can of provisions, he had to eat the whole thing in one sitting or it would attract rodents. So his days were filled with growls from his stomach for hours and hours on end, punctuated with getting filled to bursting with cold beans or soup. He would then wash the can out in the washroom and hide it at the bottom of the garbage bin to avoid arousing suspicion.

It was a good setup, so long as Loki was careful. But even so, after he had read through all the books that he had gathered, commented in the margins of some, and even completely rewrote a couple, he wondered how much longer he could take before succumbing to utter madness.

In the end, however, his fate was decided for him. He was sleeping, twitching with pain and nightmares, when a sudden shattering blow on the stage above him jerked him from his sleep. Splinters of wood pierced his face.

Loki had hardly enough time to realise what was happening when Thor appeared in the hole above him. His face raging, the god of thunder reached down, grabbed Loki by the throat, and pulled him up. He threw the younger god away and Loki grunted with pain as he collided with the stage. He quickly scrambled to his feet.

"Loki, you are a pathetic traitor," Thor growled, advancing on him.

Loki backed away, Thor's words unexpectedly painful. "Finally come to the truth, have you? Are you going to kill me now, brother?"

"Yes," Thor replied, raising the hammer. "You were never part of my family, Jötunn!"

For a brief second terror and pain filled Loki, but then he realised the absurdity of the situation. A frowned crossed his face and then understanding. He laughed. "I'm having another nightmare, aren't I?"

Thor lowered the hammer. "You've never realised that you were dreaming before."

Loki paced around the stage, wondering if he was in fact dreaming or not. Deciding to test it out, he looked at the hole in the stage and willed a tree to grow from it. Within seconds, the sapling sprouted and matured and golden apples hung from the branches. Proof enough.

"Why do I keep dreaming that you want to kill me, Thor?"

"Because you want me to hate you," Thor replied, and he dropped Mjölnir.

"That's absurd," Loki scoffed, sitting down on the edge of the stage.

"Is it?"

"Yes."

Thor sat down beside him. "This is an interesting thing, brother. Out of the two of us, I am the creation of your subconscious mind and you are the representative of your conscious thoughts. If I say that you want me to hate you, that is because that is what your subconscious desires. And yet you say that is absurd. Obviously you are a more talented liar than any of us quite comprehended. You have successfully lied to yourself."

"Now I know this is a dream. Thor could never come up with that argument by his own power."

"Oh, please!" Thor rolled his eyes. "I am far smarter than you give me credit for."

Loki raised his eyebrows. "You as in Thor, or you as in my subconscious?"

"Probably both." Thor shrugged. "No wonder you are confused, brother, when your own mind doesn't know what it is thinking."

"Why do you keep insisting on calling me brother when I never was?"

"Because I love you."

"Which only proves your stupidity," Loki replied hotly. "How many times have I tried to kill you now? Do you think that you can redeem my soul with love, Thor? It can't be redeemed. It's too late. I no longer have a soul to redeem. Why can't you just accept that so that we can all move on with our insignificant existences? Why do you insist on holding on to a false hope?"

Thor didn't seem bothered in the least. "Can hope be false?"

"Yes."

Thor was silent for a moment. "Are you talking about my hope that we can one day be brothers again, or your hope that all the things you have done aren't unforgivable? That you do have a soul that can be redeemed? Which is it, Loki?"

Loki rubbed his eyes tiredly. "This is wonderful. I am going all – who is that ridiculous mortal on the television that Banner and Potts watch religiously?"

"Oparia."

"Yes, her. I am going all 'Oparia' on myself in my dreams. This truly is madness."

"Perhaps madness is the only path that leads out of madness."

Loki stared at Thor. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"You're the one who thought it up."

"Dreams don't have any true meaning."

Thor shrugged. "If that's what you want to believe, go ahead and believe it. I don't, and so really that means that you don't either. Interesting. We really are opposed aren't we, the conscious and subconscious of your mind. It is all very confusing. Is that why you want to die so much? Because you can't make up your mind as to what you believe?"

"I don't want to die."

Thor looked pointedly at his arm.

"That was differnt." Loki snapped. "And as my subconcious, you know why."

"True. But you still want me to hate you."

"You should hate me, but that doesn't mean I want you to."

Thor shrugged. "Romanoff thinks you do."

"How would you know that if you are truly only my subconscious and not just a meaningless dream?" Loki rolled his eyes, tempted to try to change his dream entirely so that he was no longer talking with the big blond oaf, but somehow sensing that it wouldn't work. He had always had a minor ability to manipulate his dreams, but for the most part they stayed stubbornly rigid. "Did she tell you?"

"No, you observed her observing you and were able to extrapolate her assessments unconsciously, which I am now relaying to you in the form of your brother," Thor replied, looking and sounding as smug as Loki would have had their places been reversed.

"Then she's wrong."

"Is she?"

"Yes."

Thor shrugged. "All right. So what are you planning on doing now, anyway? Are you just going to live under this stage until you're fully grown?"

"That's the plan," Loki replied grimly.

"And then what?"

"Then? Then I will find a way off of earth."

"And where will you go after that?" Thor questioned quickly. "Back to Thanos?"

Loki jumped to his feet. "Enough of this. This is my dream, my mind, so I should be able to choose what goes on here. Therefore I banish you away."

Thinking that it might help, Loki brandished his hands and wiggled his fingers in a manner that immediately made him feel very silly. Thor looked at his with a raised eyebrow, as if not entirely certain that Loki was serious. When he realised that the banishment was not made in jest, he stood up. Summoning Mjölnir, he shrugged.

"If you want to continue living in a lie, brother, go ahead."

"Are you leaving me?" Loki asked, suddenly and unexplainably panicked. Thor didn't reply, and merely walked out of the theatre without a backwards glance. "Thor! ... Thor?" Loki sat back down. He pulled his knees to his chest. "Come back."

"He's gone."

Loki whirled around and was met by a most unwelcome sight. Standing before him was a middle-aged mortal that he recognised. He stood with his hands clasped lightly, wearing a black suit, his brown hair combed neatly. A calm, cool smile was on his face and his gaze was just as cool and calm. Loki flinched back before he could stop himself.

"You. I killed you."

"Phil Coulson," the man introduced himself. "And yes, you did kill me."

"What are you doing here? Another messenger from my subconscious?" Loki sneered, although he was strangely unnerved and couldn't explain why. Because this is a dream, he told himself, and strange things always happen in dreams. None of this means anything.

"Oh, I'm not from your subconscious, but I don't expect you to believe that. I've been trying to get in contact with you for quite a while, but this is the first time that you've noticed me." Phil Coulson still looked supremely calm as he walked to the edge of the stage and sat beside Loki. "As for why I'm here, I can't tell you that. Not yet. You have to figure it out on your own."

"Because I'm going mad."

Coulson shrugged. "You could be."

"I don't regret killing you."

"I know you don't." Coulson smiled. "I don't, either. It bound the Avengers together and to be quite frank, being dead is a lot more relaxing than life was. It's not exactly like I'm retired, but at least I know what's going on and I have a lot more influence over things now."

Loki studied Coulson, trying to find some sort of trick in the man. But then he realised once more that this was a dream and that whatever tricks Coulson was playing at it mattered not, for he would simply awaken to another long day in the darkness. But he still felt wary, and his stomach knotted in on itself.

"You said you've been trying to contact me for a while?"

Coulson nodded. "I have. But our talk is going to have to wait for another time. You need to wake up now."

Loki frowned. "Why?"

"Because the theatre is on fire."

Loki woke with a start. For a long time he lay still, his mind churning over the strange dream that he had experienced. He took deep breaths, and smelled the smoke. Flipping over, he grabbed his flashlight and flicked it on. Smoke was seeping in through the stage boards, thick and noxious. Loki snatched his backpack, which he always kept ready for a quick escape, and crawled to the planks at the front of the stage, cutting out a panel with magic.

In the theatre, the smoke was even heavier. Staying close to the ground, he headed towards the exits. He could feel the heat from the unseen flames, and the smoke clogged his lungs, making him cough.

The door to the lobby was hot, and Loki knew that the flames were on the other side. He coughed again, sliding back from it. The fire exit was on the opposite side of the theatre and with a sinking heart, Loki remembered that it was blocked on the outside by the large garbage bins that homeless mortals often picked through.

Well, there was only one thing for it. He got to his feet, collecting his magic inside of him for protection. He steadied himself, and then threw open the lobby door. A raging wave of heat rushed at him, but the magic held the worse of it at bay. Dashing though the red smoke, Loki burst through the doors onto the street outside.

Sunlight blinded him, and he shielded his face. His heart leaping to his throat as he heard the distinctive whirl of a helicopter. S.H.I.E.L.D. S.H.I.E.L.D. had set fire to the theatre to flush him out. Hands grabbed him, and he didn't resist. It was useless. All of it. There was no escape from S.H.I.E.L.D., or the Avengers, or life. It was all over. No doubt they would find some way to send him back to Asgard to face judgement. The place he once called home would kill him and that was all there was to it.

Something was pressed against his face. Startled, Loki forced himself to tune into his surroundings. The men standing over him weren't S.H.I.E.L.D. agents at all. By their garb, he guessed that they were human firefighters.

Loki could have laughed. The firefighters were asking him questions, but even if he cared to listen he wouldn't have answered. He took deep breaths from the mask they held against his face, feeling oxygen chase the smoke from his lungs.

He looked at the scene with clearer vision, and saw that well half of the theatre was flaming. It must have started in the washrooms and spread rapidly from there. It was an old building and Loki realised with a chill that if he hadn't woken up when he had, no magic in the universe could have saved him from becoming a crispy enigma for the morgue.

Loki glanced at the crowd gathered to watch the building burn and the firefighters work. It was quite a gathering, and the people had expressions ranging from awe and horror to delight and horror. Then he froze.

There were news crews. With cameras pointed right at him.

...

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