A Little Unsteady

Chapter 3

Renewed: 4/24/17

Two months.

Two months, thirteen hours and twenty-seven minutes.

That was how long it had been since Loki's last 'attack.' After his last one, Loki had silently begun to call them his 'attacks' rather than his 'episodes'. The name fit better and sounded more daring and exciting, which was hardly what it felt like to experience them, but the change of language gave him something to laugh about.

Granted, Loki recognized the contradiction within his mind's words.

How could he be describing his attacks as attacks if the last one had been over two months ago?

Okay, so, technically, he'd had a few more since then, but who was counting? There'd only been five and they weren't nearly as extreme.

As far as Loki was concerned, he was on top of Midgard ready for an army to be made and fight at his disposal.

So when he decided to work out-after much bargaining with his fellow Avengers to allow him such strenuous exercise-that very, very Tuesday, he probably should have figured things would not go well for him. Honestly, when did they ever?

First, it was Barton's presence in the locker room.

The trickster had just stepped inside the metallic room when he guffawed in surprise that Barton stood, back to him, perky butt exposed. Heat laced up to Loki's cheeks as the trickster tried to back away slowly without making his presence any further noticeable. Of course, as he did so, his gym bag collided into an open locker that then banged shut with a loud clang.

Barton turned his head to a profile position and had the gall to smirk.

"Something the matter, Lobster?"

Loki gulped reflexively, eyes moving to the ceiling so as to avoid admiring his former mind puppet's buttocks. He'd done enough of that for one lifetime, already.

"I-N-No, I-I was just-" Annoyance flared through the trickster at his own absurd awkwardness.

Get a grip, he chastised himself, teeth clenching tightly together.

"Good," Barton replied coldly, swinging into his favorite pair of boxers with arrows on them, and then adding his pants.

"Guess I'll see you out there," Barton's clipped tone broke through Loki's reverie, especially when the archer came close to his shoulder and practically snarled, "Just stick to your side, unless you want an arrow through your eye socket."

Nearly two minutes after Barton had left, Loki let out the breath he'd been mistakenly holding. A rush of lightheadedness compounded against his skull, and he lay out a wavering hand to the nearest monochrome locker.

Maybe I should go, he thought to himself.

But with stubbornness larger than his pride, Loki straightened his spine and refused to be hindered by Barton any longer. The assassin barely said more than two words to the trickster in all the time he'd been a part of the team, and he was proving to be the hardest to 'win over' out of all the members.

Loki flinched. Maybe 'win over' wasn't the best way to describe how his fellow teammates were treating him now.

Even so, Barton only ever threw two looks to Loki: a deep set glare and a cold, blank stare. That was all. Sometimes the archer's lips would downturn slightly, or an extra twinkle of sadism would flicker in his eyes, but beyond that, there was nothing but laced contempt and pure hatred aimed at the trickster.

So, maybe Loki should have figured today wasn't the day to spar alongside the archer. They hadn't even been in the same room together, alone, in the duration of the time Loki had been at the tower.

Yet with a confidence that was larger than the Midgardian sun, the trickster decided not to flee from his once mind controlled assassin, and took the extra time to get into his gym clothes before strutting his own stuff out into the gym.

~#~

An hour into Loki's match with the heavy set punching bag, things began to go awry. He hadn't noticed it at first, but when his aim began to drop and his punches turned to sludge, he secretly started to worry to himself.

He could still hear the arrows from Barton's bow wracking into the targets, again and again and again.

Maybe Loki should have taken some comfort in that thought, but as he stumbled backwards, it was difficult for him to find comfort in anything but the thought of him resting his head delicately to the ground below.

"Having a hard time, Lobster?" Barton's voice had a twisted, sing-song tone to it.

Loki's vision darkened around the edges as the bile rose up in his throat. He would have loved to give a retort back, but he was so focused on not vomiting again that he kept his mouth decidedly shut tight.

Green eyes looked down onto his shaking hands as he loosely curled his fingers into his palms.

Muscle weakness.

What the hell was going on with him?

Loki tried not to panic, and that, of course, meant that he was starting to panic.

From his right, the trickster could tell that Barton had placed down his bow and arrow and was beginning to slowly approach him.

For a moment, Loki panicked in thinking that this was the perfect opportunity for Barton's revenge.

By the Norns, he's going to kill me, Loki thought to himself, inexplicably sending his heart rate into overdrive.

What little control Loki had had over himself was lost in that moment.

Pain erupted into his line of vision as the colorful speckles burst into his eyes. He swung forward, hand clawing at the source of his pain. His fingers dug ineffectually at the center of his chest, trying to loosen his shirt or the pressure, it wasn't quite obvious.

Before he realized it, he was down. Collapsed, fallen, broken.

His breath came out in tattered heaves. He was lying on his side and his head felt dizzy and unattached to the pain that was radiating from the rest of his body.

"B-Barton-" the airy whisper flew from his chapped lips.

He could just make out the outline of Clint's shoes as they came to the front of his face.

Too close, he thought to himself, before his eyes rolled back into this skull and his body fell limp.

~#~

Foot pressed into Loki's throat, Clint pondered the seconds it would take for him to just fuck the trickster up. He could kick him in the face, which was what he was about to do before the demigod passed out, or he could just toss an arrow into him for no other reason than because he could.

Clint sighed. It'd be lovely if he could muster up that level of strength, but he knew he didn't really have it in him. The demigod, for what it was worth, had stayed clear of him the last few months, actually, even from the start.

Clint also knew you just didn't kick a guy when he was down.

He at least had the decency within him to only hurt the trickster if a punch flew his way or in the direction of any of his teammates. Revenge, he decided, could wait another few months.

~#~

Clint had dragged over a cluster of blue mats in order to perch upon them and watch Loki from afar. He wasn't going to leave the guy there, he realized, as he didn't want to deal with the backlash from his teammates later. Besides, it's best not to turn your back on the enemy after all. Even if that enemy is still just shredded pieces within your skull and people really just expect you to move on from it. No one said this mind control business would be easy to get over, Clint huffed.

As Jarvis rang the alarm for their fellow teammates, he was not surprised to find Bruce was the first to respond.

He couldn't help but smirk though when Steve bowled in right after.

Steve got to Loki first, gently easing the trickster onto his back as Bruce checked his pulse.

"It's high," the doctor murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

"Still think that's just normal for him?" It would have been a cruel quip if it weren't for the concern and worry lacing up and down Steve's eyes.

Bruce responded with a somewhat pained expression.

He chewed on his bottom clip for a moment, considering their options.

"Think you can get him down to the medical bay?" Bruce asked; eyes soft with care as he brushed back raven hair.

"You don't think-?" Steve began, and Bruce's serious flitted gaze to him was all that needed to be said. Steve sighed, and then nodded his ascension. "He's not going to like it, especially when Thor's alerted."

"His health comes first. Whether Thor's aware or not, is not a matter I'm concerned with anymore," but Bruce's voice wavered in uncertainty, showing that he did still care, especially since Thor might have the physiological answers that they were going blind into.

"I should never have let him-" Bruce continued, eyes growing dark.

"Hey, it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself, there's a reason they call him Silvertongue, you know. Also, you should probably hurry up." Barton interjected; gesturing to Loki's lolling head.

With that said, Steve hoisted Loki's form into his arms, bridal style, and began jogging to the nearest elevator.

~#~

Beep…beep…beep…

A groan forced its way out of his parched throat. His lungs felt like they were on fire, and his chest ached with the remnants of a pain he had all but forgotten.

Oh, Hel, why have you forsaken me?

Groggy and exhausted, green eyes slowly parted. He couldn't help but hiss in surprise with all the wires that were connected to him. He blinked two, three times before realizing that Midgardian medicine was truly, truly strange. It's not like he had been around it many times, and now he could distinctly recall why that was.

Biting his lip, Loki grumbled about stopping that incessant beeping.

"'Fraid we can't do that, buddy," Stark stood nearby, bottle of scotch in his hand as he tilted back the bottle and smiled politely. "Wouldn't want you to die," he waved a hand in the air dismissively, "and have your father kill us all if we let that happen."

"He's not-" Loki began, but he didn't have the strength in him to finish. He rolled his head back onto the pillow behind him, staring up at the bright, luminescent lights.

"Yeah, yeah, you've got daddy issues. Don't we all?" Stark muttered, taking another shot from the scotch.

"Tony, I let you be in here when you said you'd stop drinking that," Bruce's voice came into the scene as he checked up on some of the monitors surrounding their patient.

Before Tony could respond, Bruce pointed to the beeping machine just to the right of Loki's field of vision.

"That machine is recording your vital signs, basically your heart rate, oxygen levels and your temperature." Bruce shifted uncomfortably for a moment, "We were kinda hoping you knew your normal vital signs in order for us to determine what may be abnormal for you. Compared to us humans, your body temperature is considerably lower by about ten degrees. Your oxygen levels are normal but your heart rate…" Bruce trailed off, hoping Loki could supply the answer to that crucial question.

Loki, instead, appeared to have zoned out, staring with curiosity at the machine that sounded out the rhythm in his chest.

There was a pause in the conversation, so much so that Bruce gave a small smile and turned away, letting the trickster have his moment. He'd be nearby anyhow, to answer any further questions the trickster had, and for when he was ready to answer theirs.

Loki's green eyes trailed over the blips and little round hills that went up, over, spiked, down, and over again.

He blinked, and in that moment it all just hit him at once.

He had let go at the edge of the Bifrost. He had fallen into the void, and he had been tortured by the Chitauri and Thanos. He had fought against the Avengers in the battle of New York. He had gone 'home' to the Asgardians who raised him but whose love for him was still questionable at best.

He was set out on a rock when he was born. He wasn't supposed to survive. Everything Loki had been through had been obstacles in his way of pursuing his own happiness, his own worth and his very own life.

And he had given up his life a few times in that mixture. He would be a fool to ignore the notion that he wasn't still ambivalent about his worth as a…monster? Frost Giant? What was he?

A distant, somber look entered into his green irises. How many times had he come close to death and just brushed it off like it was no big deal?

And now, he was reminded by this machine, that while a god, he was still mortal. He would not live forever. He would perish and what would his legacy be? Would it be all the damage, hatred and disappointment he caused? Or would his time fighting alongside the Avengers, rather than against them, redeem his soul? Would people think less or more of him?

Unbidden tears welled up in his eyes. What did it matter anyway? The Allfather had sent him here, banished him to Midgard, and now he was to be broken by some mysterious illness?

What if it was chronic? Permanent. What if there was nothing to be done? What would he do then? How could he possibly be of use to the Avengers if he were to pose more of a collateral damage than an aid?

He closed his eyes tightly, he couldn't think that way, couldn't allow his thoughts to swing wildly in the way they were trying. It would just be better to leave them in the shadows, rather than confront the reality of which Loki was sure would arrive on his lap. If he thought fighting alongside the Avengers was rough, a sedentary life spent in a prison on Asgard would be even worse...

A warm tear ebbed down the contours of his face. Internally, he set aside his emotions, burying them as deeply as he could, with a forced exhale that came striding out of his nostrils, as he suddenly sat up and began to tear out the electrodes on his chest.

"I am not sick!" Loki declared loudly, attempting to convince the others as much as him. "I do not require your meager aid!" He grabbed at a nearby tissue, why they were near his bed was ignored, and wiped down the slime that some of the little pads had left behind.

"Whoa there, Reindeer Games, hold up a minute, all right?" Stark finally set down his bottle at the commotion that had suddenly erupted in the room. Tony had thought it was interesting the little moment Loki had had with his heart monitor (it would have been cooler if Tony would have had time to mess around with it to get it to speak) but this reaction was out of left field for sure. And maybe, just maybe, it was more to do with the demigod than the fact that Tony's mind was abuzz.

Tony leaned over to Loki's bedside, trying to grab onto the disconnected wires as the machine blared a shrill noise.

"Do not touch me, mortal!" Loki spat, swatting at Tony's hand.

Tony straightened up at that comment. Weird, he thought, Loki hasn't acted like this since he's joined the team.

Tony shot a scrunched up expression to Bruce, whose glasses were at the bottom of his nose as he set them down onto a clipboard and came over, head tilted.

"Loki? We need you to stay where you-" he began but was soon cut off by an enraged snarl.

"No! I need you to stay away from me!" He pulled out the last wire, almost yanking it from the machine it was connected to, which was reading out similar lines onto a pink sheet of paper.

"I wouldn't-" Tony began, as he saw Loki reach for the intravenous needle in his arm.

The trickster easily pulled it out and paid no attention to the blood that squirted out lightly.

Loki shot a glare to Tony, before he began to swivel to his feet.

"I am fine! I do not require your services any longer. Just, let me go," Loki's voice cracked at his last phrase, the same darkness in his eyes returning for the briefest of moments.

As his feet touched the floor, however, he found his legs could not support him. Feebly, he slid down the side of the bed to the floor. He slammed his fists into the white floor around him, crying out in frustration and stress.

What was happening to him? What was he going to do?

He was so useless. He was so pathetic. And he thought he could have been a king? What sort of king throws a hissy fit in a room amongst his enemies?

Pain barely registered in his mind until he felt himself gasping for breath again. Why? Why was this happening to him? WHAT was happening to him?

Tears formed in his eyes as he begged, "Please! Please make it stop."

He felt the red organ within his locked chest flutter and flap like a bird in the sky. Oh how he wished then that it would silence! Why continue pushing him through this unnecessary pain? He scrunched his eyes tighter until he saw the familiar kaleidoscope of colors. Maybe he could drown himself out in the swirling lights, like how he had when he traveled through the void.

The void.

He could feel more tears run down his face. He was having a mental breakdown just as his body was collapsing without his control and everyone was there to witness it. And if they weren't, it was likely being recorded so they could witness it later.

Loki's breath hitched as the hiccups of sobbing and snot rolled through his system. He flinched when a cold touch landed on his chest. It felt like the hands of the Other squeezing around his neck and he coughed in reflex, shivering as the memories came and grouped together, triggering off other separate memories that caused his heart to beat faster.

As if it wasn't already Hel enough.

"Loki," Bruce softly whispered, eyes cast over the shivering demigod. "Loki, you're okay, you're going to be okay." Bruce tentatively reached out a hand and placed it on the demigod's shoulder, rubbing his thumb slightly into his pale flesh.

"We're going to figure this out. You're not alone in this."

Not alone? By the Norns he felt alone. He didn't have the strength in him to respond however, so he just continued to hiccup, bawl and cry out in pain.

Somewhere in the distance there was some commotion, he faintly heard Stark and Steve by the door, until a familiar hard stomping came cascading towards his fallen form.

"Thor!" Loki gasped, emotion clogging up his vocal cords as he instinctively reached out like a child to his not-brother.

Thor had come. Thor was there. Now it was true, that he wasn't alone.

A/N: Oh the feels! Sorry for all the Loki feels in this update *super sly grin* I hope that you all enjoyed this! It's been a hell of a long time but I hope this lonnnng update was good and fun to read. Sorry if anyone is a bit OOC. And for getting a bit sappy into what's going on with Loki's mind and what he thinks about what's happening to him. But ta-da, Thor has been introduced! The next chapter will pick up from here, as well. I hope the wait is not as long! Thank you for reading! And as always, I don't own anything recognizable!