I posted two chapter on Sunday, one after another, just in case any of you missed it ;)
Now, I re-read the last chapter and I'm pretty sure it was a bad idea to write it so late as I've made a bunch of typos and really stupid word repeats which I will correct within the next few days maximum ;)
Odin had torn into his already fragile mind, not expecting so little resistance. Loki hadn't had any magic to put up a fight with, and the feeling of another mind inside his would have made him gag had he not been forced still by the All-Father's magic. He didn't wish to draw attention to the frayed shards of his mind, so he stood by and gave the appearance of meekness. He allowed Odin to only clearly see the merest fragments of his time there and did his best to dampen the feelings he'd felt in those memories. He could tell Odin was surprised when he felt no ill intent – then horrified as he found glimpses of Loki's time with Oriax. And instantly suspicious. Loki felt his father's mind turn to grim determination… And then Odin ripped into his mind, trying to find any hidden memories. It wasn't just ripping his mind; it was destroying it.
And then he found Loki's hiding place, tucked away in some dark, far-away corner in his head, and the satisfaction lit up his emotions briefly. The terror Loki felt as Odin clawed his way into the memory, forcing Loki to relive it, was beyond even some of Oriax's methods. Dimly, he felt his body yelling 'NO!' just as his mind did. A powerful spell, but a powerful emotion to break it's restraints. Had the memory been a solid thing, Odin would have been on a little viewing platform somewhere above Stark's slumped body. Loki, however, couldn't separate himself from his memory, he was too weak, too mortal. So he had to relive every detail, of fearing he would break, fearing what would happen to Stark after he went, and the excruciating pain he could give no true words to, the fire down his chest, veins flowing with liquid torture.
He could still, somehow, feel a faint thread connecting him to Odin's mind… So, he could feel Odin's alarm as he realised Loki was inside the memory, feel the tug as Odin tried to take them both out of his mind, but he was too… Too what? Too broken, too anguished, too full of the cold-shower shock that had accompanied falling into the memory. Instead of reaching towards his father, he pushed away and away until he broke apart from his body. There was no pain in the astral realm, no bodily pain, but he still had to take several deep, gasping breaths before the astral world stopped spinning for him. Even then, he barely had the will to notice anything around him. He anchored himself just above his collapsed body and retreated deep within himself, sinking into a deep blackness of some sort of astral sleep. One thing did filter through though – Frigga pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, that he felt even in the astral realm. She didn't hate him. She didn't hate him, he thought to himself, and thought again and again.
He stayed in the astral realm for some time, pushing away at his mind, but it was in pieces and each shard was needle-sharp, stabbing at him until his astral form was raw and bleeding. Unable to stop himself, he healed himself and just let his mind cut him open again and again, the memories piercing his form as he cried out without sound. After some time, he found that even thoughts of Stark couldn't keep him from craving the pain, the distraction from the awful memories. Not even those of his mother. He found it wasn't the pain in the memories he feared – if that was so, he wouldn't long for it now. It was Oriax he shuddered at the thought of. Oriax, and whatever poison she had used on him that very last time – the only pain he had not been able to bear. Oriax was his nightmare, not because of the pain, but because of the fear. He was numb, absolutely numb, except for the despair and the fear. No more hope, he thought to himself. No more hope. And eventually, he bade his memories to stop and just lay there, willing his physical heart to stop alongside them.
Doctor Strange. Sorcerer Supreme, bearer of the cloak of levitation. And he had no flipping idea what to do with the person who had attacked New York, that had had immense magical power, but was now lying wrapped up like a baby and looking like death on the sofa in front of him. He sent a curious glance at the other sofa, where Tony Stark was sleeping. He frowned and picked up Stark's hand from where it was hanging limply over the edge of the sofa. Manacle marks, scars as if it had been broken. His brow furrowed and he stared at Loki, wondering if that had been his doing. Gently pulling back the dark green cloak, he blanched as he noticed Loki's arm – the scarring so much heavier than Starks. He slowly pulled the cloak back over him and sat down on the third sofa, between Loki and Stark. He examined Loki again, noting his breathing rate and almost vacant look – more vacant than a usual sleeping person's expression.
Slowly, he leaned back in the sofa and propelled himself into the astral realm, where he immediately found the astral form of the god sprawled just over his real body, face down. There were numerous cuts all over his skin, small ones, as if made with shards of glass. They were already half-healed – he assumed that was Loki's own doing. Slowly, he approached the god and tapped him on the back of his shoulder. No response. Growing slightly worried, he pulled him over so Loki was facing upwards. Again, without a response. The face of the god was more full of expression than that of his sleeping body – full of grief and despair, eyes only just open but Strange doubted he was really looking at anything. "Come on," he muttered, shaking the god slightly. "Get up!" he said, voice louder than usual. Loki opened his eyes more fully and seemed to focus on him somewhat, but his gaze was empty. His hand shifted slightly, pushing Strange away. Who growled and grabbed Loki, shaking him and pulling him up to his feet. He hung in mid-air, swaying slightly, but didn't fall back down. Slowly, he turned away from Strange and walked a few steps, with a pronounced limp.
"Go away…" the god whispered, looking back at Strange with the look of a dying animal, snapping at anyone who came close. Loki sat down then, looking away from Strange, and bowed his head. Strange heard his breathing almost tighten, then rush out in a small sigh of relief. He didn't understand until he saw a small trickle of blood flow from under Loki. The idiot was hurting himself in the astral realm – probably because he could heal himself here. "All righty," he spoke up suddenly. "You're getting back in your body NOW," he commanded, and pulled Loki up a second time. The god just looked lost, more lost than anyone or anything Strange had ever seen before. Strange was pretty sure he had depression – and that meant he had depression, because he didn't give out incorrect information about patients. Loki needed serious help – perhaps the avengers had recognised that, and that was the reason he wasn't rotting in some SHEILD dungeon right now. He pushed Loki down into his body, relieved when he didn't resist. As soon as he was sure Loki was actually back in his body, Strange retuned to his own and stood from the sofa, going over to Loki.
He was panting slightly, eyes open but clouded over. Strange silently helped him into a sitting position, then opened a portal to the Sanctum, where they would be able to talk in peace. As he pulled Loki through, he left a note as an afterthought – Just gone for a talk, back soon, Dr. Strange – and his signature neatly written under the line of slanted text. That should do it. As he stepped into the Sanctum Sanctorum, he kept a careful hand on Loki's back. The god looked ready to crumble. He slowly walked him to two armchairs – helpfully already facing each other. He sat Loki down and lowered himself into the other one, gazing steadily at the god, analysing him, before speaking. "Sooo… I came to make sure you weren't going to harm anyone on Midgard – I assume there is no chance of that?" Loki shook his head dully. "Good. Now, I want to know two things – one, why can't I sense your magic and two, what the hell happened to you?"
Loki blinked slightly, then gave another sigh and answered curtly, "No magic." Well. That was odd, and a little surprising. He doubted Loki was lying – his spell hadn't alerted him to any lies. Strange waited but Loki didn't seem to be willing to make any attempt to respond to his second question. "I said, what th-" Loki shot him a quick, silencing glare. "I heard," he muttered. "Got captured, came to Midgard, went to Asgard, came back to Midgard," he continued after a moment's thought, then stared at Strange as if to make sure he wouldn't be questioned any further. Strange pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply, then let out a sigh, realising Loki wasn't going to be sharing anything. "Ok then… Right. Fine." He looked back at the Norse deity opposite him, thinking carefully. He had to make sure Lok wouldn't run right back to Avengers towers and do something stupid – like try to kill himself. "Do you miss your magic?" he asked carefully. A minute nod in response, and a slight flicker in the god's expression.
"If… If you like," he began slowly, beginning to think he was going crazy for offering this to the guy who had nearly managed to take over New York. "I can teach you a little of my magic – mortal magic, I suppose…" He looked almost expectantly at Loki, who frowned and inspected his scarred hands. "I… I don't know," he muttered eventually. "I just… Don't really…" He threw up his hands slightly in a small, hopelessly desperate gesture. Strange nodded – he could see Loki longed for his magic, perhaps almost as much as he appeared to long for death. Perhaps that was why he'd half-refused – he thought it pointless, worthless. "If you ever want to talk, I'm always here," he answered Loki, then opened a portal for him. Loki got up without aid, but nearly crumpled to the floor as he put weight on his left leg. With a slight snarl he pulled himself back upright and walked through the portal. Just as it closed, he turned around and gave Strange a small nod – an acceptance of his offer, perhaps. Perhaps not – but either way, Strange had the feeling he'd be seeing Loki again. He gave a small, cheeky grin and a wave at a rather angry-looking Fury who was looking directly at him over Loki's shoulder, then the portal vanished completely in a small puff of sparks. "How did it go?" asked a voice from behind him, and he turned, startled, to see Wong stepping out from behind a bookcase that he had most likely been hiding behind the whole time.
"Director," Loki managed to greet Fury, before the world started turning around and round and he felt Fury's steadying hand on his shoulder. Briefly, he leaned into it, glad for Fury's presence, before returning to the struggle of staying upright. The dizziness receded for a while, and Loki could make out Stark, moving a hand to his face and blearily rubbing a hand across his eyes, yawning, before furrowing his brow then abruptly sitting up and looking Loki up and down. "Wha's going on?" he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and blinking rapidly. After a while he appeared to have cleared his mind of sleep and looked at Loki again, more properly. "Loki? You ok?" he asked, concern evident. Loki felt a sudden rush of feelings – Stark cared, he genuinely cared, for Loki. As did his mother, he suddenly thought, remembering the butterfly-light kiss on his forehead. Frozen in the sudden revelation, it was a few moments before he could move – when he could he smiled at Tony, a real smile, and moved towards him.
Stark stood up as he drew near and wordlessly embraced him. Loki tucked his chin into Stark's shoulder and whispered a heartfelt, "thank you," to him, voice rapt with true gratitude. Thank you for standing by me. Thank you for fighting for me. Thank you for caring, just when I thought nobody did. He didn't notice his was crying until he felt Stark shaking slightly along with him. They parted and Fury immediately sat Loki down, telling him sternly, "Sleep." He turned to Stark and his expression softened. "You too, Stark." Stark sat down on the other end of the sofa and leaned his head back. Loki watched him until his eyes closed and he couldn't hold back a deep sleep anymore.
Fury stayed with them for longer, and when Banner and Rogers passed through the common room, they found him watching Stark and Loki – both of which had slumped to the side in their sleep, Stark's head resting on Loki's shoulder and Loki's head brushing the top of Stark's.