Loki was going to lose his mind.
He was sure of it.
"Ice! I need more ice!"
"There isn't any more—"
"Water, then!"
"Are you freaking kidding me? That's what got us into this mess in the first place—"
"Just find me something cool! She's burning up!"
"So is he! And her, and him, and them!"
"Don't you think I know that?" Heart pounding, Loki turned back to the girl lying on the mat. "Shh… Don't cry. Please, don't cry."
"Mama… I want… Please, where's Mama?"
For the umpteenth time that night, Loki felt his heart crack. "She's waiting just outside for you. Don't worry."
"Why can't she come in? Tell her… Tell her to come in!"
"I can't. We can't have her getting sick, too, all right?"
But the child didn't seem to hear him in her fevered delirium. Back and forth, she writhed on the makeshift bed.
They all did. Back and forth, back and forth. Moaning, groaning, crying out in tortured desperation.
And all he could do was sit and watch. He could offer up calm reassurances when he had the chance, but Loki knew it was all a lie. No one knew what was happening—so no one knew how to fix it.
Clenching a fist, Loki surveyed the room. Two dozen citizens beaten down by a fever they couldn't identify from an illness they couldn't trace. Well, not beyond the water, at least.
When Heimdall had pinpointed the start of the spread as Asgard's main water source, Loki put an immediate ban on any usage of tap water. Since then, he and Brunnhilde had spent the better part of the night tending to the sick.
"Here. Try this." Loki hadn't even noticed Brunnhilde's absense until she returned with a ripped section of cardboard.
Loki wasted no time in snatching it up and fanning the little girl. "That'll do for now, I suppose. How's Heimdall doing?"
"Not good." Oh, great… "People are getting hit with this virus faster than he can bring them over here."
Because why not?
"And Bruce?"
"His ETA was ten minutes—fifteen minutes ago."
A sharp curse flew past Loki's lips and he fanned even faster.
"Maybe we should call an actual doctor?"
"Banner is a doctor."
"Not the kind we need."
"Honestly? Seven PhDs and medical isn't one of them?" Loki took another glance about the room. The makeshift sickroom they had set up in New Asgard's Town Hall was rapidly filling to capacity. "And you're certain we're out of ice?"
"Last I checked, yeah." Brunnhilde jerked a thumb toward the door. "But I've got people scouring the village for more as we speak."
"Good. What about fans? We never got around to installing cooling systems. Every house should have a portable fan to spare."
"Right. I'll get on that."
Behind him, another child cried out for water and Loki fought the urge to vomit. Too many… There are too many to heal…
And yet, still so few compared to how it used to be—
No! We're not comparing. Stop it!
"Brunnhilde!" He called out as she started toward the door. "Have someone fetch all those gatorades in your fridge."
"Got it."
"Bring every bottle in New Asgard."
Hurry, his eyes pleaded before she disappeared out the door.
Seconds later, a flustered and very confused Bruce Banner entered the hall. And for someone who'd suffered at the hands of the Incredible Hulk, Loki had never been more relieved to see that man's face.
"I got here as soon as I could," Bruce said, wasting no time in crossing the room and kneeling beside Loki. "Val told me what happened, but… what happened?"
"As far as I can tell, someone contaminated our water supply. Poisoned, more like," Loki added, his expression grim.
"And you don't know who or why?"
Loki just shook his head and continued to fan his little patient, who wouldn't stop moaning gibberish about water and her mother.
"Not a clue. However, I do know what I'm going to do to them once I'm finally able to smoke them out of whatever filthy hole they've hidden away in."
"Whoa. Yeah, I almost forgot you had a bad side." Bruce's chuckle was dry, but it still eased Loki's nerves a bit. "Remind me never to get on it."
"Duly noted. Even though we've managed to put a stop to any more consumption of the spoiled water, people are still succumbing to the poison. If this keeps going as it has, we're bound to run out of room in this building. The illness doesn't seem to be contagious, but I'm not taking any chances."
"So," Bruce began and Loki could practically see the gears grinding in his brilliant mind, "I'm guessing you have to consume a certain amount of water to end up like…"
"From what I've seen so far, yes."
"And you have no idea what was in the water?"
"None whatsoever. But—Sorry, would you mind taking over for a second?"
Bruce took the makeshift fan without hesitation, giving Loki's arms a much-needed rest.
"Did you call poison control? I mean, if it really was poison."
Rubbing at his aching wrists, Loki cocked an eyebrow. "Poison control?"
"Yeah, you know." When Loki's face remained blank, Bruce heaved a sigh. "Haven't you ever had to call poison control when a kid swallowed something they shouldn't have?"
"Why would a child swallow something they shouldn't?"
"You know what, never mind. Just… I think maybe you should call them. Or the hospital, or something."
"I called you."
"Yeah…" Bruce rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. "And I'm still not entirely sure why I'm here. I mean, I'm more than happy to help, but what was it you wanted me to do."
What, indeed…?
What did he want Bruce to do? Fix it. Just fix everything, please.
Lips pursed in the thinnest of lines, Loki shifted over to the little boy groaning on the next cot over, motioning for Bruce to follow.
"Loki?"
The only reply came in the form of Loki reclaiming the cardboard and fanning his next patient.
"Brunnhilde should be back soon with the electric fans," he explained, words coming out of his mouth faster than he could even register them. "Then we won't have to do this anymore."
"Uh, Loki?"
"And we just ran out of ice—how in the Nine do you run out of ice?—so we have to find other ways to keep the fever down."
"Loki, you're deflecting."
The snort that escaped Loki's nostrils felt more like a hysterical chuckle, so he fanned faster, if only to keep himself from going completely insane. "I do not deflect."
"Sure you do," came the scientist's easy reply. "Thor said you do it all the time. Wait, where's Thor?"
And with those three blasted words, Loki's hands stilled. "Oh… you don't—?"
Shut up…
"Don't what?"
"Nothing, just… Well, I thought you and Brunnhilde text regularly."
"We do, but you're avoiding the question. What am I missing?"
A beat, then Loki felt his gaze drift toward the door.
"Loki. Where's Thor?"
"He's… around."
"Oh, come on, Loki. I'm not in the mood for—"
"Look, it doesn't matter right now." With a huff, Loki gestured toward the flushed crowd of bodies dotting the room. "What matters are the people. I won't have any more of them dying because of some sick, twisted, random plague fate decided to thrust upon them. I don't need questions, Dr. Banner, I need answers. I need medical supplies, and healers, and a better place to house the sick, and-and clean water. And I need a-an answer—I need the culprit!"
When the stream of words had finally dried up, Loki was left fighting for breath just as hard as the ailing boy beside him.
Bruce, for his part, simply stared at the prince, his expression ever calm; his eyes bleeding with compassion.
"Done?"
Loki swallowed, forcing himself to breathe. To fan a bit slower. One. Two. Three…
"For now."
"Good." And Norns, how calm could this man's voice get? "Now, you know me. You know I'm more than willing to help wherever I'm needed, but I need to know where that is. Why'd you call me, Loki, of all people?"
The best Loki could give was a small shrug. "You're the only one I know."
Bruce blinked, clearly not expecting such a humble answer from the God of Mischief. "Okay… Well, what about a doctor?"
"You are a doctor."
"Come on, Loki, you know I'm not that kind of doctor. I'm a scientist."
"I know that!" Loki snapped. "But I don't know what sort of pathetic excuse for a healer the hospital would send if I called them! And we've never… I've never…" Think! Center yourself before you make a mess of things. After a steadying sigh, he continued, "The people of Asgard have never been treated by anyone with whom they aren't familiar. The healers… Well, they're all gone now. And the people know you—I know you. I just couldn't… It didn't feel right to…"
A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him and Loki glanced up into Bruce's soft eyes.
"Hey, it's fine. I'm here and I'll help in whatever way I can. But if things get nasty, you have to let me make the call to bring in a real doctor. Okay?"
"You underestimate yourself, Dr. Banner."
"How many times have I told you: it's just Bruce." A smile graced the quiet scientist's face. "I think being stranded together in a starship for months on end took away any formalities."
Try as he might, Loki couldn't seem to return the smile, so he hoped his eyes conveyed the depth of his gratitude.
"So," Bruce began, clapping his hands together in that familiar let's do this manner, "Val's bringing fans?"
"And gatorade."
"Right. Okay, uh…" Gesturing toward the nearest patient, Bruce cocked a brow. "May I?"
"I thought you weren't that kind of doctor."
Bruce flashed a sheepish grin. "Well, I do have sort of a vast knowledge of medicine on account of my work trying to recreate the super soldier serum."
"All right. And how are you with a diagnosis?"
"I'm okay at it."
"A little tip for the future: don't put that on a resume."
"Yeah, I'll try not to."
At first, Loki felt tempted to hover over Bruce as he made his examination, but then he centered himself.
There were other matters to attend to. Like the people, for instance.
Honestly, do you really think you can take your little paper fan all over the room and cool off everyone? Ignoring his burning ankles that punished him for kneeling too long, Loki pried himself off the floor and surveyed the room.
Heimdall had just brought in another fallen citizen—a mother, if the distant cries of children outside was anything to go by.
How did that awful song that Thor loved go? And another one bites the dust.
No! No one is going to die tonight.
Loki clenched his fist as Brunnhilde burst into the fray, dragging two large floor fans behind her.
And another one gone.
And another one gone…
Stop!
Making his way toward the Valkyrie, Loki did his best to push the untimely lyrics out of his head.
"Hey there, big guy," Brunnhilde greeted Bruce from afar as Loki relieved her of the satchel full of gatorade slung over her shoulder.
Smiling, Bruce returned the iconic greeting before going back to his examination.
"He finally got here, huh?"
Loki huffed. "Right on time, too. A moment later and I'm sure I would have lost my mind."
"Funny, I thought you already did that."
"Ha. Thank you. Your confidence in me is astounding."
"Hey, just doing my job."
"How are things looking out there?"
"Eh," Brunnhilde sniffed, popping a shrug that was quite obviously a veil shading her nerves, "more of the same."
"Better? Worse? Come on, you've got to give me more than that."
"Well, people aren't collapsing as frequently anymore. That might be a calm before the storm, though."
A cloud passed over Loki's face. "Let's hope not. I'm not sure we could handle another storm right now."
Brunnhilde offered a grim nod before excusing herself to carry in the rest of the fans. Loki, for his part, began making his rounds again. This time, he was armed with gatorade instead of ice. But at least they'll have something to drinknow.
He had only touched a quarter of the room when he felt Heimdall's steady presence kneel beside him.
"I believe your aid is needed elsewhere, your majesty."
How many times have I told you not to call me that…?
Loki was too braindead to correct him, however, and simply let Heimdall lead him to the newest patient. The mother was awake now and cried out in a hoarse voice for her children.
Loki willed his heart not to fracture again.
Without a word, he knelt at her bedside and unscrewed a fresh bottle—that stupid white color Brunnhilde insisted was better than all the others. Blue was obviously the superior flavor.
"Where are they? Are they all right? My children! They're—!"
"Shh… Here, drink this," Loki soothed. "Your children are all well."
"Thank you…" She murmured after she'd drunk her fill. "Thank you…"
As her eyes fluttered closed once more, Loki forced himself to breathe. Just breathe…
"Permission to speak freely, my prince."
Loki's dull gaze never left the now unconscious mother. For the briefest of moments, his vision swam and he only saw Frigga.
"Mama… Please, where's my mama…?"
"You always have it, Heimdall."
When the former Gatekeeper hesitated, Loki glanced up at last. "That is true… Though, perhaps, not about this."
Loki couldn't help but stiffen at the ominous words. "What?"
"We've run out of ice to cool the people. You and I both know these fans will only generate as much cool air as they're able…"
"Which, as we've already seen, isn't very much. Whatever you're about to say, get on with it," Loki prompted, ignoring the nasty inkling of realization that iced his veins.
Just get it over with…
He snatched up another gatorade and turned his attention to the man on the next mat, who was drifting back into the world of consciousness.
"Here," he prompted gently. "Drink this."
And just when Loki had begun to hope Heimdall would drop the topic altogether, the rumbling baritone spoke his name—a startling sound, to say the least. Until that point, it had always been "my prince," or something of the like.
Well, we haven't faced an outbreak this dire before, have we? Times change…
"Loki."
He gripped the bottle, willing his fingers not to tremble with anticipation and dread. "What?"
"Forgive me if this is too bold, but… can you not simply create more ice?"
And there it is…
"I've seen you do it—up close, I might add."
Loki forced his lips into a half-grin. "If that was your best attempt at a joke, Heimdall, you failed miserably. Besides, when I did that all those years ago, I had the Casket. I don't…"
I've never made ice on my own.
"Your heritage is no secret anymore," Heimdall continued. "And it's during times such as this that you must set aside your own reservations and do what's best for you people. As a ruler, it is your duty."
"I'm not their king," Loki protested, his voice a bit too small for his liking. Stop it. You're not a child, so quit acting like one.
"Perhaps not," came Heimdall's thoughtful reply. "But you are their best chance right now."
The breath he sucked in was shaky, ragged, but Loki needed air. This room is suffocating.
He was acutely aware of Brunnhilde and Bruce watching him from across the room as he lifted his hands.
Inhale…
"Laufeyson"
Shut up!
"And am I not your mother?"
I said—
"You're not."
—shut up…
… Exhale.
Light blue frost nipped at his fingers, dancing through the air until he found himself holding a thick sheet of ice.
One. Two… Loki steadied his breathing, gripping the icicle as if his life depended on it.
Yours doesn't.
Not yet.
Shut it.
When he worked up enough courage to risk a glance at Heimdall, Loki felt a warmth sear his soul unlike any he'd felt since…
Well, since Thor used to look at him that way. The sheer relief, the gratitude—and was that a hint of pride?—that painted Heimdall's face was an expression Loki didn't often receive. Not to this extent.
But it was the look on which he thrived. The sort he craved.
That "I knew you could do it" look he'd only ever seen on Thor and Frigga.
And now, Heimdall.