There's something beautiful about comfort.
Comfort is the rainbow after the thunderstorm, the sunshine after the snow, the peace after the hurricane, the warmth after the winter. When we feel that we have lost everything, comfort soothes our shredded hearts and broken souls.
You can spend forever trying to ignore or avoid the raging fires of pain, but nothing will lessen them like the gentle rains of comfort.
Perhaps a pet passed away in your childhood. You likely remember the gentle embrace of your parents as they consoled you at the pet's funeral. Maybe a friend moved away to a better school and forgot about you in their excitement for and later adjustment to their new environment. Didn't the loving words of your remaining friends and family help you accept and move on from the pain of the dying friendship?
This chapter will illustrate comfort in all its forms and from many possible sources. While the Avengers aim to salvage the remains of their mental stability and joy, Sanjeevani lets herself crumble under the weight of her pain before rising again to renew her life and purpose. The Avengers comfort each other with words and actions as their young prospective comforts herself with new friendships and new cities.
"Can you all please shut up? I've been at this for a solid hour, and none of you fools are allowing me the common courtesy of silence," barked the extremely displeased Silvertongue. All he wanted was a few hours to read in peace without the Avengers bursting into his room every four minutes asking for help with something or other. In an attempt to be more personable and to connect with his new housemates, he'd offered his help to some of them with different tasks, and now they wouldn't stop pestering him for help.
For example, the Trickster had made some helpful suggestions to Bruce while the scientist worked on a particularly complex project about super-humans' biochemical processes in the brain and why they function as they do. Bruce seemed quite surprised at the magic-user's random and deep knowledge about science and since then, the Hulk's other half had been asking Loki for constant advice and opinions on the project.
After that, he offered Tony some help with lifting and repairing certain parts of the compound, and the genius pestered him to keep helping Tony build and improve the building since then, even though Loki had only helped because it seemed the short man was unable to handle the repairs alone.
Before helping both Tony and Banner, Loki had helped his brother work through a complex issue involving New Asgard and its people. A mischievous brat as he was, Loki knew much of Asgard's complex policies and procedures, especially in running the government. After all, he ruled Asgard for a few years under the guise of Odin. He knew how to run shit. And because of this, Thor kept coming to ask Loki's advice on matters of ruling New Asgard. Valkyrie was a good ruler in the moral sense, but she had no practical experience in leading the Asgardian people.
And now those three, and sometimes the others, came to his room at any available hours to ask him for something. He quickly grew fed up with the entire issue, and he took the time to scold them all right after lunch.
"And if any of you come to me with those ridiculous queries again, I will simply move back to New Asgard. Have I made myself clear?!" Loki sneered in satisfaction at everyone's surprised expressions and guilty nods. "Absolutely pathetic. Now if anyone has any actual questions, they may ask them if I deem the time and manner appropriate. This would be a good moment to ask, because once I leave, I expect undisturbed time to myself."
Tony sighed, looking up at the slowly relaxing former prince. "Any new info on the kid? It's been weeks, Loki. How long will she need to be alone? I doubt she's somewhere safe, knowing what you've told us about her so far."
No one can understate Loki's shock at the question. He hadn't expected anyone to think about the girl, much less worry about her. It sounds cruel to say about his housemates, but he hadn't heard even a hint of their concern for the young woman since her departure. He didn't think these people would care so randomly.
With a sad smile, Tony continued. "I know she's your responsibility or student or whatever, and that's fine. That's your decision, that's your call. But she's still a kid. She still needs to be taken care of and protected. We can't do that when she's so far away. When will she come back? And where is she?"
The god of mischief took a seat, grasping his head in both hands. "I do not wish to usurp her privacy and upset her. I shall only say that she is in Europe. As for when she will return, it may take weeks. Months. She needs all the time in the world to accept what had happened to her and to move on from her past. She needs to be at peace with herself. I can make no accurate predictions at the moment. I know her past, but she's never experienced anything like this. New issues will still beguile me, no matter how well I know her."
Natasha gently patted Tony's shoulder. "We'll wait. Like we always do." The older man gave her a hesitant smile before nodding and returning to his lab.
Thor gazed at Loki closely once all the others had left, walking right up into his brother's private space. He rested both massive hands on the smaller man's shoulders. "Loki…" The two siblings locked eyes. "Loki, why do you hide your obvious concern for this girl? I know you well. Very well. You do worry for her. About her. Why do you pretend to be aloof or impartial?"
Eyes averted and voice shaking, the younger Odinson explained, "In my experience, brother, showing concern and affection for a child always ensures that the child will be taken from you. Always. Especially if the person caring for the child is me. I loved all three of my children, and you and Odin stole them from me." Pale, nimble hands clenched tightly enough onto the end of a long black tunic. Already light-skinned knuckles blushed white. Loki breathed shakily, hunching over himself as violent shivers overtook his body. Thor wouldn't assume aloud that Loki was going to cry, but the elder brother knew tears would come next.
"I have no guarantee that this girl won't be taken from me if I openly express my concern for her. Being distant and indifferent about her when I'm around you all for a few months until her return is enough for me. I am to be her teacher. Not her mother, father, relative, or otherwise. I am simply to guide her path. But she is a mirror of me, of my childhood self, and so I am slightly fearful of losing her before I have helped her."
"No, you're not." At Loki's furious gaze, Thor retracted a little. "I mean, you're not afraid for her. You don't truly know her that well. You know her history and past and the things in her memory, but from her point of view. You don't know her personality. And you surely don't care enough for her when you don't know her from your personal point of view."
The smaller man pushed at his brother's chest a little, eyes slowly wetting and reddening as white fists clenched into blue. Thor continued, "You're worried for your children. You aren't that concerned about her, you're concerned about the fact that your children are in the same position as her: far away from you, in some kind of dangerous place, without ensured food supply or safety. That's what you're worried about. You don't give a damn as to what happens to her because you don't truly know her beyond what you've seen in her mind about her past. You think her strong enough to handle this on her own, or you would have brought her back here by now so she could be safe with you. But you are more concerned about your children whom you haven't seen in centuries. Basically, you're projecting your worries for your children onto her because she reminds you of them."
Loki let out an angry scream and punched through a corner of a wall behind him, throwing his face into his hands as he began to sob desperately, knees slowly crumbling under his weight and position. His big brother, as protective as always, knelt with his younger sibling. Thor held his baby brother until he could no longer feel Loki's sobs and whimpers against his body. "I just want my babies, Thor. I just want them…they haven't seen me in centuries…what kind of a mother am I?!" More sobs and wails. More screaming. More desperate pleas to the heavens for his children to return.
The two clung to each other, Thor enveloping Loki in his arms while Loki crushed himself against his brother to hide from the world and keep his pain a secret. "I have not experienced even an iota of what you have lived, brother. But you needn't fear it all any longer. No longer. I'm here now. Even though I have abandoned you many times, I'm here now. I will not leave you. You can cry, Loki. I'm here to hear it. I'm here to bear your burden with you. I know how heavy it is on your shoulders. I'll be here." Words spoken in softness, but with such passion that Loki could barely speak, instead opting to coil himself up and let Thor care for him.
That he did.
As if handling a child, Thor lifted his younger brother up in his arms, gingerly walking back to Loki's room to let the man rest. Rage and sympathy burned with equal intensity in Thor's heart, throwing off his mind and making him too thoughtless. He couldn't comprehend his own guilt and love for his brother, who'd lived a life of torture since his birth.
But it would be like that no more. Thor would care for his broken brother until all the pieces were put back together. He swore it on the breath of every living thing on this planet: he would fix Loki, no matter the difficulty.
"I'm gonna die out here," moaned the hopeless teen. Sanjeevani hesitantly walked around the city plaza, trying to keep track of her spending as she bought water and food (after her backpack supply ran out) before going to the homeless shelter. And even when she reached the shelter, she still felt hopeless.
A massive building like an apartment complex loomed over her menacingly. All dark brick and murky windows. Some lights were on for different rooms on the almost sixteen floors of the behemoth. The young woman carefully stepped inside and looked for the receptionist, spotting a desk in the lobby of the first floor. She walked towards the large wooden space and smiled nervously.
The elderly woman glanced up at the sight of Sanjeevani. She said something in French, which the teen didn't understand at all. She bit her lip, hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she asked, "Anglais?" The French word for 'English' was one of the few French terms she'd learned from Duolingo when she still held interest in learning the complex Romance language. After advancing in Italian, she'd stopped learning French, but she hadn't gotten very far in the first place.
The white haired receptionist smiled gently, chuckling. Nimble fingers quivered as she dialed a number on the phone. A few words were exchanged with the person on the other side of the line, and in a few minutes, a young man with a dark beard and a turban covering his hair rushed towards the desk from an adjacent hallway. He spoke with the receptionist, who explained something.
Soft brown eyes glanced up at the young woman, who watched in curiosity as the Sikh youth spoke fluent, but accented French with the old lady. He smiled at her after finishing his discussion.
He held his hand out, gaze gentle and sweet in an attempt to ease her down from her nervousness. "Hello. I am Ahmed. Welcome to France, my friend. Are you here for asylum?" She took note of his peculiar accent, smiling widely at the English before shaking his hand.
"Yes, I am. Nice to meet you."
"There are a few things we need to handle before we get you settled in, okay? We need a few forms from the OFPRA process. Certification for housing, the initial application, and the OFPRA application. Do you have all three?" Ahmed questioned, eyes glancing at the receptionist quickly to make sure those were the required forms. At the elderly woman's nod, he turned back to the teen, who held out the certificate and the copies of the two applications. He grasped the papers gently, scanning through to make sure all was in order before giving them to the receptionist for further examination. They were returned to Sanjeevani, who tucked them away in her backpack.
"Everything looks good, so we can go. Any preferences for rooming and such?"
She frowned. "Um, how are things organized? Like, is it a person per room, or is it like a giant gym with bunk beds?"
He shrugged. "It's quite a bit like apartments or a hotel. Each unit has their own room. Usually, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are served downstairs by a wonderful organization that cooks on-site for the needy. But many families cook for themselves. Some rooms have kitchens, but only families have access to those."
Sanjeevani mulled over the options and possible locations. "Put me in a room at the front of a hallway, closest to the elevator. If that option is available. If not, somewhere near the middle of a hallway."
Scratching his beard lightly, Ahmed raised an eyebrow. He led the young woman to the elevators. "Any particular reason why?"
"Safety. If I'm closest to the elevator, I can see everyone who enters and exits my floor before the rest. And if I need to, I can warn the others about any possible threats. Just good to be a lookout, I guess," she reasoned.
"Fair enough. There are a few rooms on the upper floors that are unoccupied and are close to the elevators." He paused a moment in front of the elevator, ceasing all movement before pressing the button. "So why are you seeking asylum in France?"
She smiled. "Secret. I'll only tell you once I know OFPRA's decision. I'm a weird case, and if I tell you now, you'll know. And if I'm rejected, I'll leave with no way to keep you from spreading the info around." She winked, and he burst out laughing.
"You make a good statement. Very smart."
Her giggles rang through the hall softly. She tilted her head up to face the young man more properly. "Hey, quick question. From your appearance, you seem Sikh, but your name is Ahmed. Why is that?" She retracted a bit, putting her hands up in surrender as panic overtook her face. "I'm not trying to insult you, I promise! I'm just trying to understand you better."
Ahmed laughed broadly, dark eyes twinkling with amusement. "My friend, please. Your questions do not offend me. My family is different from most. My father is Sikh. Born in a small village in Punjab, actually. And my mother is a Muslim woman born here in France. They met when my father came here for a veterinary conference. Maman is a manager in a company that creates machinery for veterinary clinics, and Papa is a veterinarian. He was still in his last years of schooling when they met. Their families objected greatly to their love, but they ignored them. Their self-sufficiency gave them power, and they went off on their own after making sure their families would be financially safe without them. And then they married and had me." He preened a little at the intense attention his companion had given him for the duration of his explanation. Her eyes hadn't left his face no matter how long he spoke and how far they walked.
She commented softly, still basking in awe at the beautiful story, "That's amazing. That's so cool. I've never met anyone like that. But then again, my family only hung out with the hyper-conservative people of our community."
He beamed. "I would think so. Not many of our families are open to mixing with others, yes?" He hummed at her sad expression and slow nod. "But my full name is Ahmed Sukhwinder Ali-Singh. My mother and father decided to include names from their respective cultures and combined their last names instead of simply using my father's."
Sanjeevani gave her friend a wistful smile. "That's such a sweet story. Do you follow both religions too? Is that difficult for you? I would assume not."
He shook his head. "I follow what I please. I try to do basic prayers for both religions. I definitely fast during Ramadan, and I definitely try to do the Akhand Path at any available moment. Akhand Path is like a reading of Sikh scripture during momentous events, either uplifting or depressing. But I go with whatever feels right. I do what I have to for the sake of my health and well-being. Neither Allah nor Guruji will fault me for trying my hardest to be good, for trying to help people, for trying to live my life in a way that brings me happiness but also in a way that supports the needy."
She appeared to be mystified by this young miracle. This guy seemed wiser than most elder to him, at least in terms of knowing how to apply the morals and duties of his two religions. While some use their faith to discriminate and spur hatred in humanity, others, like Ahmed, use it to lift up humanity. An awkward silence brewed between them at her hesitation to speak. She finally decided to just express herself. No one else could know her feelings like this guy. At least, not that she knew anyone else here.
"My family is very strictly Hindu. They really stick to the books with no leeway or alteration. I mean, I had very few choices in my life growing up. Only after high school started did I live a little. But even then, most decisions were made for me. My college, my classes, my future, all predetermined by these guys. I hated it. I avoided my religion at all costs to feel free from their oppressive nature. It was like poison in my lungs. It was like a poisonous system. Every time I tried to breathe or speak to help alleviate the struggle in my body, more poison flowed in. I couldn't avoid it."
He patted her back gently when she stopped abruptly. "I'm a dancer. Bharatanatyam, kuchipudi, kathakali, I learned all three. I can pretty much teach them, that's how far and how well I've excelled. I started when I was two. I'm nineteen now. But I hate it. I learned so much in my life. And at the time when I should be loving the world and myself, I hate everything. There was no escaping my religious parents with these dances. Every step and movement of it is drowned in religion. Every time I try to be free and live, religion pulls me back further into its clutch. I'm so awed by you because never once did I have a positive relationship with faith or belief. It was always forced down my throat. I choked on it. And now I feel like trash because you follow two separate religions so effortlessly, and I can't go a minute without complaining about how my parents' religiousness made me suffer. And it's not as bad as other people have it. But it's filling my head, and I don't know what to do. I hate complaining about this, but it's too much. I keep wanting to be a good Hindu and do what I have to do, but there's such a bitter taste in my mouth when I think of even setting foot in a temple or saying the prayers again."
He rubbed his chin, hands then moving to his jacket pockets. "Everyone has a different relationship with faith. Yours was less than pleasant, based on what you're telling me. You cannot blame yourself for what your parents did. If your parents truly made as many decisions for you as you say they did, then you haven't been able to properly learn about or truly appreciate your religion. After I learned more about my other family members' open disdain for my existence, I left home to explore myself and my faiths. I came to love both Islam and Sikh life equally like they are my parents. You have not had that chance to renew your love for your religion. If you take that step, maybe you can relearn from the beginning. Redo everything. If you still don't enjoy it, you don't have to follow it. Follow any other religion. I can teach you about Sikhism or Islam if you would like to join either or both of those. Or just don't choose a religion at all. Remember what I said? Whatever you have to do to be happy and make the world happy. God will accept you either way."
Sanjeevani gave a wet laugh. "Thank you. This has been some wonderful therapy for me. Can I pay in back massages? I'm afraid I don't have enough money to give you and still survive on my own."
He smiled. "Simply glad to be of help. No need to repay me for being kind. If you need to talk more, you can come find me or ask for me. Or call me. Whatever you prefer."
"Thanks so much. Also, are you sure you're not like, an undercover psychologist? Like. That was some…that was some major talk. Like. That sounded like what I imagine real therapy sounds like," she confessed. His boisterous laugh filled her with petulant indignation. "It's a fair question!"
Ahmed rolled his eyes as they began exiting the elevator to walk down the hall towards her new room. "It is a ridiculous question. I don't think there's such a thing as undercover psychologists. But also, I just like to help people be content and happy. It's so hard in this modern world. If I could at least make someone's day a little less rainy or help someone smile a little brighter, I've done at least something for humanity."
"You're too nice to be human," she huffed.
They stood in front of the door to her room. Ahmed winked playfully. "Wrong. I am too nice to not be human. Perhaps it's merely a beautiful sentiment, but I believe in humanity, and I hope you do too."
She shrugged, breathing slowly as he unlocked the door for her and brought her inside. "I will at some point. Thanks, Ahmed. Talking to you has been really helpful. I think I'll be okay."
He patted her shoulder with a heavy hand, eyes warm and sunny despite the sound of unexpected rains hitting the roof and windows of the building. "You are very welcome. We'll call everyone for dinner via the overhead. Do whatever you'd like. WiFi info is on the dresser, along with a little brochure about the room and building. Get some rest. It's been a long day, clearly."
Her eyes followed him as he left, waiting until he wasn't visible before crumpling onto the bed in a heap. She would need several days of sleep before being prepared enough to face the world again.
So, she slept for the next four hours, too exhausted by the day's events to continue on as usual. And when the dinner announcement mumbled in through the overhead, she refreshed herself briefly and rushed down to the elevator, key in pocket, phone in hand.
She watched about fifty other people — including teens her age, older adults, men and women with families, and young couples — walk past her to the elevator to head down for dinner.
Before she could notice, time stopped. Or at least, it felt like it did. Empty eyes scanned over her surroundings, and bitten-red lips pursed tightly. All of this, her whole mess, her whole disaster, was real. She hadn't come to terms with it until that moment. She didn't want to, either. She didn't want to be in this massive world. She wanted to be in her bubble of safety, shielded from reality itself.
But she didn't have any other options. She didn't. Either she faced the truth of her situation and adapted accordingly, or she remained in her obscure sense of safety and suffered the consequences.
She breathed in deep enough to cause pain in her chest, shook her head to free her mind from its prison, and walked after the strangers whose lives her own would soon mirror.
The ride down was painfully awkward, though. Everyone stared at her too closely, eyes focusing in on every single piece of clothing and part of her body as if trying to piece together the girl's whole life story based on details from her clothing. She squirmed uncomfortably in her corner in the elevator until the bell dinged, doors opening with a slight creak. The others huddled out quickly, clearly eager for supper. Sanjeevani hesitated, waiting for the last person to get off before finally doing the same. She wanted to avoid the crowds until she had no choice but to join. Big groups of people still elevated her stress easily, despite her experience with large audiences viewing her dance performances.
But to her surprise, Ahmed greeted her just outside the elevator, dark eyes and sunny smile shielding her view of the too-bright fluorescent lights. "Hello, my friend! I see you've chosen to take some rest. You look well, better than when you first arrived." He held out his elbow to her, but she stared at it blankly.
"What are you doing?" came her question, confusion unmistakable.
He coughed, discomfort suddenly tainting his usually confident and carefree behavior. "I thought since you are here alone, you would want to be escorted to dinner. I presume it is not common practice in America. You may refuse, if you wish." Ahmed slowly lowered his arm at the last few words.
With a pleased little gasp, she hurried forward and grasped his elbow, eyes alight with her thrill. "Sorry, sorry! I totally accept. I just didn't realize what you meant. It's not common where I'm from, but an escort would definitely be appreciated. Thank you."
Ahmed sighed softly, clearly relieved that he hadn't caused any offense. "You are quite welcome."
But those were the last words spoken for the next five minutes as the youths strolled towards the mess hall in silence. Just as they set foot in the doorway, Ahmed piped up. "There is mail for you, actually. The mailman isn't allowed to come up to give you the mail, so we hold it for you at the receptionist's desk. I can pick it up for you now if you'd like, so you can eat dinner and have it with you when you return to your room."
She hummed, contemplating her decision. "Actually, do you want to get it with me? I'd rather we eat in peace rather than have you rush off to do more work than you already do in a day. And if you're free, we can read it through in my room?" Though her words sounded confident, her insides churned like the sea. She'd never experienced such discomfort and unsteadiness. Being in a different city or state from her hometown was familiar to her. Being on a different continent was not. She could use the familiarity of an Indian friend in a foreign world.
Sanjeevani didn't know if Ahmed could determine her discomfort from her behavior or from his own experiences, but he seemed to take pity on her and agreed, promising to stay as long as she needed him to. A smile of thanks from the young woman, and the two were off to get their meals.
They rejoined each other at the opposite side of the room, having picked out the specific food from the buffet that the receptionist ordered that night. Ahmed smiled. "Have you been starving since birth?" he teased, motioning to her mountainous plate.
She giggled. "My metabolism is beyond science. Don't question me, man." The two laughed brightly, the sounds of their amusement completely overshadowed by the hustle and bustle of the dinnertime conversations from other residents of the shelter. She hesitantly followed her new friend to a table of other young people consisting of two couples and three individuals. On their way there, Ahmed whispered to her that they all spoke English, so she needn't worry about communication barriers.
That factoid provided only a few seconds of relief.
She sat down between two girls who were talking to their friends seated on each end of the bench. Ahmed plopped himself down between the couples, smiling at their happy greetings. "My friends, this is our newest resident. I don't know her name yet, but she joined us today."
The girl to her left grinned. "Hello there!" The blonde's British accent seemed to peek out hesitantly through her tone. "Nice to meet you. I'm Helen. The one on your right is Olivia. We're sisters, actually. Why won't you tell us your name?"
Sanjeevani wheedled out a sigh. "If this thing doesn't work out, I need to get away and not get tracked down. Staying under the radar is only possible if practically no one knows my name."
Olivia's face contorted into deep concern and fear. "Why do you need to get away? Who would track you?"
"People I don't like. I ran away from my 'saviors' after they got me away from my abusive family. But these guys just want to toss me into experimentation. Apparently I have this weird genetic anomaly. Don't know what it is, don't wanna find out. I gotta keep safe, and if that means not letting anyone know who I am, so be it. And a fake name won't work because people may address me by the wrong name in front of the law, and I gotta keep my identity clear and accurate."
One young man sighed deeply, the dark timbre of his voice amplifying the volume of his words. "I understand that. Any tracks left behind, and the police will catch you like dogs. I'm Alvin. Born in Sweden, but had to escape from my father. No other family except that abusive demon, so I'm here for my safety."
Sanjeevani seemed to melt into the bench a little, dark eyes soft at hearing the simple, deep words of her new acquaintance. "Kinda the same sitch with me. No deets, but that's a similar story." Alvin nodded, smile almost unnoticeable.
One of the couples introduced themselves with soft, tired smiles and weak words. Elizabeth and Timothy were the droopiest people Sanjeevani had ever seen. Perhaps that word isn't often used to describe humans, but it was accurate. Every aspect of them, from their clothes to their personalities, seemed to melt from exhaustion. She knew the feeling. But it was weird that both of them were like that. But who was she to judge?
The other couple was literal couple goals. Jacques and Sonia were angels from the realms of glory. They were perfection in human form. Both looked like they could be models, but successful models. Not the boring, every-day models. All sculpted features, sweet skin, and vibrant eyes. Jacques escaped from the Congo, escaping mass hunger, disease, and government tyranny. Sonia ran away from her village home in Egypt, where her family kept trying to perform some kind of crazy female genital mutilation procedure on her before her wedding day. The two met while waiting at the coast of Libya for a boat to cross the Mediterranean to reach France.
Sanjeevani felt deeply for their struggles, asking if they'd endured any injury in their attempts to escape difficult lives in their home countries.
Sonia nodded. "Much abuse from police. They do not like the thought of women running from home, so they try to convince us to go back by beating us, offering money, anything. I refused until they got tired and left me be." Jacques shrugged at the question.
"I was caught and beaten a few times on my way up through Africa. But it is nothing new to me. Afrasian families love the same way, no?" he asked playfully, bright smile lighting up his face. Sanjeevani grinned, nodding in reply.
"Very true, my friend. Very true."
The conversation only grew richer and more fascinating as the minutes ticked by, and Sanjeevani found herself loving the time spent with these people. As dinner time arrived to a close, she retrieved all of their numbers, including Ahmed's, and promised to keep in touch no matter what happened.
She and Ahmed took a slow walk up to the receptionist, both barely able to take steps after their heavy meals that night. They collected whatever mail arrived for Sanjeevani and half-waddled up to the young woman's bedroom. "So where do you sleep, Ahmed?"
He chuckled, leaning back against the wall of the elevator. "I sleep in the rooms on the first floor. The first floor is usually occupied only by workers and employees of the shelter, but all other floors are open to residents."
"Oh, wow! So you're like a Resident Adviser?" she wondered. He laughed again, nodding. "You laugh a lot. It's nice."
He gave her a peculiar look, but thanked her anyways and peeked at the mail. "So what do you think it'll say?"
She inhaled slowly. "I don't know, but it better be an acceptance letter from those asylum guys."
"So since I'm all clear and good to go in terms of all this asylum stuff, am I allowed to celebrate with alcohol?" Sanjeevani bounced around her room. Her hopes had proved fruitful. The letters contained approval letters for her residence in France as a person seeking safety from a personal situation in her home country. All was well. Now, after weeks of screaming and crying alone on that boat, she could scream and cry with the knowledge that she would have someplace to come back to, someplace to call home, if at least for a little while.
Ahmed snorted. "This building is home to families and children. We don't store alcohol."
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask to celebrate here. I meant anywhere in the city."
He sighed. "You aren't supposed to be out late. This is a shelter, not a dorm room. We can celebrate here, just no alcohol. I didn't know you even drink."
She smiled, shrugging. "I mean, I learned it kinda helps me when I was on my way here. I'll tell you parts of my story as the hours tick, okay? I came to France on a cargo ship manned by the US Navy. I snuck onto it from the docks when I saw it was going to France. I hid in some kind of box filled with like clothes and backpacks and stuff. It wasn't too uncomfortable. Most of the boxes were huge, massive wooden crates containing hundreds of items. I had packed my backpack with lots of food and water bottles and a few sets of clothes. The ship's crew eventually discovered me. I made a deal with them. In exchange for me being the ship's primary medic, they would give me safe passage and legal entrance into France. I got to know the crew. Became friends with some of them, and I had a few late nights healing severe injuries. I found out one day, after some experimentation with different drinks, that alcohol is a good and easy source of energy for me."
He stared at her. "What?"
"Okay, okay. I gotta spill. There's a lot to this story, but please believe me. I'll show you my truth, okay?" Ahmed, now appearing shaken and concerned about her behavior, leaned away from her a moment but nodded his head.
Sanjeevani launched into her story with renewed vigor, eyes bright and changing emotions with each part of her explanation. Ahmed remained passive until she began to speak, and his face mirrored her own expressions, both their eyes locking together like a deadbolt.
Ahmed almost fell off the bed in shock after she closed her mouth. "I don't believe in using profanity, but God will have to forgive me. What the actual fuck?"
She smiled sympathetically. "I can show you. Any injuries, bud?"
He stepped off the bed, nearly collapsing to his knees out of sheer disbelief. "No, no! That's not-! Stop it! I still can't- I don't believe this!" Strong hands clutched at a slowly paling face, breathing broken and heart hammering. "This isn't possible. This isn't."
Dark eyes averted the form of their new friend losing his mind at what the mouth had revealed to him. Sanjeevani sighed. "Why is it so hard to believe? You follow two religions. You know their stories of miracles and godly intervention. Why is this so crazy for you?"
"Because some things are reserved for belief and some things are reserved for science! You- you aren't either of those things!" Ahmed sputtered, eyes glazed over with frustration. He'd removed his hands from his face to instead embrace himself tightly.
Sanjeevani stood up, walking towards him slowly, with her hands up in surrender. "That's not how this all works, and you know it. Religion and science intertwine. It's inevitable. They're not mutually exclusive. I am all science. Not religion. Maybe you might believe I am. But I am science, okay? Are you injured anywhere, Ahmed? I may not fit into your categories of reality, but I can show you I'm being honest. Please."
He finally looked at her, having avoided her gaze since she finished her story until now. "I have a cut on my leg from a kitchen mishap yesterday. It's not serious."
She directed him to the bed and forced him to show her the injury. He had told her the truth: the cut wasn't too deep or long, but the skin around the cut seemed infected, what with its extremely red and irritated appearance. Two sets of dark eyes met once again, the softer pair of the two pleading with the other to understand. Sanjeevani gently laid her fingers on the cut and focused once again on the inner light, drawing it out from deep within her like cotton fibers, pulling it forward into her fingertips as the light flourished under her skin.
Just like the first time she used her powers, they glowed warm and white, illuminating the room slowly as her powers did their work. Red skin slowly returned to its usual tanned hue while the damaged or dead tissues in the cut dissolved before new cells began rapidly reproducing to fill the tear. As the cells reached the upper layer of the skin, they slowed reproduction and the skin around the cut closed over it, sealing the healed wound protectively.
Ahmed gazed on in horror and fascination, eyes wide and pupils narrowed as he watched Sanjeevani sit back and remove her hand. At first, there was only silence. Not peaceful and sweet, like the silence between lovers. No, it was painful, like the settling quiet after a war ends. Like the hush falling over the land after natural disaster razed the land. Like the silent fluttering of broken hearts after a long-lived marriage shatters.
"W-What are you?" The confidence in the man's voice died. Sanjeevani could hear his brokenness, and it made her feel guiltier than she could explain.
She stood up and sighed, clasping her hands behind her back. "I am Sanjeevani. I don't know what I am. I came from another dimension to save Tony Stark. Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, brought me to this dimension. He and I worked together to save Tony. I lost my family when I left my dimension. They hurt me because I didn't use my powers to help my relatives struggling with bad health. I was promptly disowned as I chose to leave with Doctor Strange. I ran away once I told the Avengers about my powers. I needed to grieve. I'm here so I can grieve all alone. I'm a dancer. I've learned Indian classical dance forms for over fifteen years. I know kuchipudi, bharatanatyam, and kathakali. I can be a teacher in dance, if I so choose. I'm not that smart. I'm a dance major. Well, I was a dance major when I was still in college. I have these weird powers I don't understand. Loki was supposed to help me learn how to use my powers. I don't know if I have a future, and I don't know if I'll ever go back to the Avengers. I can't trust that they won't experiment on me. But I need to know what I am. Who I am. And I don't know anyone here that can help me with that."
The young man promptly stood up and took her hands, his sweet face suddenly morphed into stone. "You can trust me to keep your story a secret. Can I trust you?"
She frowned, but nodded. "Of course you can trust me."
He sighed, rubbing his face into his shoulder. "Okay. Then come with me." With a gentle tug, he pulled her along behind him, both young adults hurrying through corridors and rushing down flights of stairs. He led her down to an alleyway so tight that only two people can move through it if standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
Sanjeevani's face darkened, and she glared into her companion's eyes. He was afraid of her powers, yes, but she was just as afraid of his actions. A super-powered person as she was, Sanjeevani still feared the strength of men, still knew that if Ahmed turned against her (whether or not that would ever be reality for the gentle giant), she had reason to try and defend herself. "What the hell are you doing, Ahmed?"
He bit his lip, eyes hesitant but strong. "Just trust me." He stepped away from her for a moment, trying to plead with her with his eyes. She could only comfort him with a nervous smile of her own, unable to comprehend her new friend's odd behavior.
Ahmed closed his eyes, placing his hands together in front of his chest in prayer. And he set them down once again at his sides. Eyes still shut tightly, he murmured to her over the loud sounds of traffic and life rushing along the streets. "Just watch me." With the same fascination and horror Ahmed showed when he saw her healing him, Sanjeevani watched her friend morph into a wolf, his clothes tearing as long human legs lengthened and changed form into the strong, bent legs of an animal of the Canidae family. His handsome, bearded face lengthened into a powerful snout and mouth. Perfectly straight teeth lengthened, sharpened, stretching into the terror-inducing incisors of a giant grey wolf. Dark brown eyes lightened to an icy blue hue. Warm brown skin lightened, and dark hair de-colored to morph into dark grey fur.
He huffed at her, and her knees nearly gave out from pure trepidation. As a wolf, Ahmed stood at nearly five feet at the shoulder. Sanjeevani, the short woman she is, was barely five-foot five. She let out a whimper, and Ahmed slowly stepped forward, glacial eyes gazing down into her own as he bent his head to see her face better. She quivered like a fawn stuck in a trap, the dark lakes of her eyes filling with tears. Ahmed leaned forward, touching his nose to her face softly, and she heard his voice in her mind. It startled and frightened her, but not as much as she thought it would. It felt almost familiar and warm. It felt like a hug in her mind, enveloping her thoughts with gentle quiet, as if someone laid a blanket over her internal voice to comfort it after nightmares.
"I know I'm scaring you. I'm sorry. But this is…this has been my curse, Sanjeevani. I've lived with this for years. I learned of these…things on my sixteenth birthday. I've learned to control it. I've learned to hide it. It's worse when I feel angry, or when I feel too much. It's so much worse. I become things I've never heard of. I become things I didn't know existed in any myths…and it terrifies me. I don't tell anyone. I'm too scared to. They may hunt me. They may kill me. Your fears and mine are no different at all. You're scared of them experimenting on you when you're alive. I'm scared of them experimenting on me when I'm dead. I can't tell anyone, and I fully prepared myself to take this secret to the grave, until I met you. Can you help me?"
She softened, moving her quaking arms up to wrap around his neck. He curled his head around her back. "What do you need, buddy? If you tell me what you need, I can try to help."
He whimpered, a terribly soft sound that she wouldn't have heard had she not stood so close to him. "I need you to guide me. I need you to take me somewhere I can get rid of these. I was born with them, but I don't want them. Not anymore…please take them away. I'll do anything to be free from this, this inhuman prison."
She cooed, murmuring gently as she scratched his back with strong fingernails. "I can't. Ahmed, if they're part of your DNA, I can't remove them. If we tried with the help of some magical people or science people, you may die…I can't risk that. I'll teach you how to make them productive. I'll teach you how to use them for your betterment or for others' safety, but I cannot take them away. And I don't know if it's safe to even try. I like to think that our DNA is a better parent to us than our parents. It's our blueprint. It makes our bodies in a way that ensures we're the healthiest and at peak performance. We don't know the dangers or repercussions of trying to expunge such a critical aspect of yourself."
He let out a pathetic howl, pressing closer to her. She sighed, rubbing his fur gently. "I'm sorry, buddy. Let's get you back to the room, yeah? Maybe turn into a snake or smaller creature? That way I can hide you better." With a little huff, Ahmed stood back, gazing at her forlornly. She didn't know wolves could do that with their faces.
In another disturbing metamorphosis, the young man turned into a small dragon with two limbs and two wings. He slithered over to her, curling around her neck like a snake. She gently, uncertainly pressed a kiss to the top of a scaly, dry head. In a little rush, Sanjeevani collected his torn clothes and lifted his turban up into her arms lovingly, carrying the whole pile gently to his room. By some miracle, no one saw her walk through the halls with a dragon and a pile of clothes. She fished for his key card and quickly entered the door, closing it behind her with her foot before gently laying all his clothing on the bed. "I'll wait in the bathroom, okay? Get changed, do what you gotta do."
With a soft hum in her mind from Ahmed, he slithered off her shoulders and down her arm, reaching the bed and curling on himself defensively. She hurried into the bathroom and locked it, turning to grin at the mirror crazily. She'd found someone. She found someone like her. This was a good start after many bad ones. Ahmed had proved himself to be worthy of her affection, friendship, and secret. She definitely trusted him. After all, he gave her his secret to keep. If there was one thing Sanjeevani trusted above all, it was that people with secrets to keep will never betray one another, especially if they already have a positive relationship.
She felt safe. She felt comforted. She felt good, despite all that she'd seen, all that she'd experienced in the past few days. She didn't know how or why, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Life was finally good, and many thanks were in order.
Loki sighed, sitting back against the sofa in deep exhaustion. He rubbed his forehead, closing emerald eyes tightly. Ensuring this girl's easy passage and process into France was one thing. But making sure that specific miracles like preventing people from seeing her carry her morphed friend down the halls required far greater amounts of magic.
He decided to take a little break from observing his future student by going out to the kitchen for some tea, only to discover the Avengers screaming for Tony's life as the genius mechanic was pressed up against a wall by his throat.
The perpetrator of the crime? Stephen Strange.
Loki gaped as he watched the wizard snarl at Tony, blue eyes blazing with rage. The only phrase he could understand in the commotion was, "WHERE IS MY KID, STARK?!"
The older sorcerer shouted out a spell to diffuse the entire situation. Strange was ripped away from Stark, the wizard tied up by Loki's magic, while the defenses that the other magician used crumbled away so the Avengers could come to Tony's aid. They screamed back at Strange, who snarled and growled like a bound beast.
Loki slowly approached Tony, kneeling in front of him and speaking gently, shushing the other heroes. He, by no means, cared deeply about the man, but he wanted to ensure that he was on the Avengers' good side. "I am not like the girl. Her healing is far more different and much more effective than mine. But I can attempt a few healing spells, as long as I have your consent."
The billionaire gazed up at his former enemy, nodding his head carefully, for his neck still hurt like hell. Loki leaned Tony back to rest against the wall. Pallid, frigid fingers pressed against the hand-prints left on warm skin. Loki closed his eyes and began murmuring the spells, lips moving un-noticeably.
Tony keened like a wounded pup, whimpering at the growing pain in his neck and throat. Within seconds, the deep-seated ache subsided to allow cool waves of magic to flow all throughout the area. As Loki removed his hands, Tony began to feel his skin and muscles recover from the death grip Stephen had on his neck.
With a wrathful flourish, Loki stood up and grabbed Strange by the green magic binding his arms together. The former Asgardian prince shoved the Sorcerer Supreme down onto the couch, both sets of light eyes glaring at one another.
"You are going to tell me why you randomly attacked my landlord without warning or explanation, Strange. Now."
The man slumped, head hanging low as quivers began to overtake his usually cool composure. Loki released him from the bindings and took the other magician's hands into his own. "Strange…I don't know you to be a violent man. A cheap, pathetic bastard, maybe." That pulled a slight chuckle out of the taller man. "But you don't murder fellow heroes. Especially not ones that you brought back to life. What the hell is going on here?"
Loki admitted to himself that he didn't particularly care for or know the wizard. But if the man felt terrified or angry enough to go for Tony Stark's throat, there must be a reason for it.
Strange's voice seemed to shake or wobble as he spoke. He finally turned his head up to look at Loki's face, blue eyes wetting slowly as his expression lost all strength and confidence. "Loki, he lost my kid. He lost her. I come into the compound today to check on things, see how everything is going. I run into Dr. Banner first. He and I have talked a few times and are working on a neurobiology project right now, to see how magic affects human and superhuman brains. He's a good friend, so I strike up some conversation, ask how her lessons with you are going. He sounds confused when he says that he's never met her formally. I don't get it and go inside, trying to search for her. I try to feel her signatures everywhere. She should have slight magic signatures from when she and I brought Tony back. I realize that I don't sense her, so I keep looking, thinking maybe it wore off. And then I hear Tony tell Steve how they have to make a plan to get her back. I lost it. But it's all on him. He's a fucking grown man with a family. Can't he keep track of a teenager?!"
Tony stood up, having healed much faster because of Loki's spells. "I was trying to tell you, Stephen. She's an adult. She is legally an adult. We can't force her to do anything. Not to mention, she got on the elevator before we could even stop her. Loki got here, we were distracted, and she left. We wouldn't let her go off on her own. She's still young and isn't from this dimension. I know that. But Loki was the one to tell us to let her leave."
Strange recoiled, searching for answers in Loki's eyes and expression. He began to look angry once more and tried to stand, but Loki put his hand up to stop him. "Let me speak, Stephen." The wizard slowed, sitting down again. "I told them to let her leave, yes. But not for no reason. You know what situation she was in. You know what happened right before she came here. She lost her family, Stephen. She was heartbroken. That's why she kept breaking down into tears every five minutes. She would have lost her mind if she tried to stay here and pretend to be okay while being unable to mourn properly. She had to get away."
Strange stood up, putting his face in his hands. Letting out a wet shout of despair, he punched his hand through a nearby wall. Loki continued talking. "She's lived a life much like mine, Stephen. I read her soul when I arrived here. She's a mirror image of me. I need you to trust me, okay? I know what she needs."
Stephen sat down again, hands quaking violently in his rage. He remained silent for a few moments, and them he glared up at his fellow magician. "When does she come back?"
Loki sighed. "When she's done mourning. But I want to know why you're feeling so worried about her. You haven't come by for a month and now you ask about her? You haven't even read her soul. You don't know her. And yet you sit and rage that Anthony lost her?"
Strange mumbled quietly, so only Loki could hear. "Did you care about your friends within days? No. You've never adopted a kid. All your kids were born to you. You loved them immediately. She's not my kid, but I brought her into this world. It's half guilt. Guilt that I ignored her for so long and never spoke to her. And the other half is worry. She was broken in her dimension, Loki. Her family broke her completely. She could barely stand. I saved her from there. I'm supposed to be there for her. I'm supposed to take care of her. That's what you do as a hero. I let her down. I wanted to come in and talk to her today so I could make some promises and develop our relationship. Understand her better. Learn about her. But she was gone."
Beginning to understand the situation, Loki nodded, patting the wizard's shoulder. "Look, you can stop worrying. I've been keeping an eye on her ever since she left this compound. Every move she makes, every step she takes, I've been watching over her and protecting her. It's one of the huge benefits of being a god. I can make things happen with just a thought. It's how she has all her papers and documents from her dimension without being surprised by their presence. It's how she's been able to travel as far as she did with no worry of discovery or detainment by various governments."
Stephen's eyes widened. "Wait, are you serious? You've been watching over her? C-can I do that too?"
Loki chuckled. "I'll give you access to her dreams. You can appear in them, interact with her, speak to her. It'll feel like real life, but it will all be a dream. Hold out an open hand for me." Almost scrambling excitedly, Strange sat up properly, holding an open palm out towards Loki. The older male conjured a necklace and a small sprig of some kind of herb, placing both into the other's palm. "First, drop this herb into your water. It will dissolve like aspirin, but it will taste like lemon. Drink this thing just the once. Every time you want to talk to her, put on the necklace as you get prepared to sleep. That's it. You will be able to enter her dreams."
Strange gingerly placed the two items into his pouch, giving the other sorcerer a thankful, teary look. Loki laughed softly, rolling his eyes as he took Strange into his arms. "You may have brought her into this world, but I care for her just as much as you do. Now stop crying like a wee babe and get back to the Sanctum, you fool."
The bearded man slowly nodded, wiping at his face as he pulled away and stood up. He walked towards Tony and held a hand out to shake. The other Avengers glared with pure hatred. Tony smiled, shaking the other genius's hand. "Bygones?" asked the mechanic.
The magician smiled. "Bygones. I'm sorry, by the way."
"No big deal. Loki did the same thing. I better get used to Pep doing that in bed, but I'm sure that would be infinitely more fun." He laughed when his wonderful wife tossed a pillow at his head.
Stephen snickered. "Sure. Goodbye, everyone. Thank you, Loki." With one last meaningful look towards his fellow sorcerer, Strange opened a portal, walked through, and closed it behind him.
Thor stared at Loki. "You hugged him."
The younger Odinson groaned. "He was grieving, and he's fascinating. Stop looking at me like that."
Tony snorted. "Does our little witch have a crush?"
"Stark, I am seconds away from crushing your skull, not your windpipe. Watch your tongue," hissed the sorcerer.
"Physically, I can kinda do that. Metaphorically, I cannot," Tony snarked in response.
The quietest of the Avengers during the scuffle, Peter, hesitantly walked closer and sat beside Loki, sweet brown eyes settling on slender, sculpted features. "Mr. Loki? You really don't seem as bad as these guys say you were. I think you were just being really nice to Dr. Strange. But why were you keeping an eye out for Anji? She's an adult and can take care of herself, right?"
Loki stared at the young man, bewilderment written all over Loki's usually calm face. He hadn't expected the child to even look him in the eyes, much less sit beside him and speak to him. Releasing a little breath, the older brunette spoke calmly. "What is your name, child?"
"Peter Parker, sir."
"Peter Parker, imagine that upon returning to your home, you discover a dog. The dog is a mother of pups, and she is trying to eat some food from a garbage can. You feel bad, so you give her some biscuits from your snack at school. She eats them gratefully and hurries off. Curious that she's so intent to leave as soon as she eats, you follow her, but lose her in the crowd. Every day you see her and give her some food, but you lose her. You worry about what she's doing and what will happen to her because she's a vulnerable animal in a harsh world. One day, you finally catch up to her and find her lying in a cardboard box, licking at her pups as they drink her milk. You understand now why she's always going away after getting food. And since then, you want to ensure her safety, so you spend some time with her to make sure she's okay. You watch over her when you can."
Peter seemed to understand where the older man was getting with this story.
Loki hummed, retracing his words a little bit to make sure the young man didn't misunderstand the metaphor. "Now. The girl is no dog. She doesn't have pups. She's not a mother. But she is a vulnerable creature in this vast world. Yes, she is an adult. Yes, she is intelligent. Yes, she can handle herself. But she has no one here. She is from another reality. She doesn't know this world. So, I keep watch to make sure she is safe. To make sure she achieves whatever goals she has set for herself during her period of mourning so that when she's ready, she can come back here safe and sound."
"Okay. That makes sense. You're really nice, Mr. Loki. For keeping an eye on her when you don't know her enough to care. You're a good guy too." With a sweet little smile, Peter stood up and grinned at Tony, walking up to his mentor. "So, Mr. Stark, when can I meet Morgan?"
The others filtered out of the room, leaving Loki alone with Thor, Bruce, and his own thoughts. "What the fuck just happened?" Bruce asked exactly what Thor was thinking.
Loki coughed, eyes still following the young man with the incredible words. "I think I just made a new friend."
Bruce sounded mildly offended. "Excuse you. I'm right here."
"Oh shut up. You know we are actual friends now. You and Thor are equal levels of stupid and annoying," grunted the magician. He walked over and patted the scientist's shoulder, snorting at the growing pile of pages containing equations and notes the man had been making since yesterday. "By the way, your equations here, here, and here are wrong."
Bruce sputtered, huffing at his former sparring partner. "They are not."
Loki whistled, and Thor hurried towards them, peeking at the papers from over his brother's shoulder. "Yes, my good friend. They are incorrect."
"You guys are the worst," griped Banner, quickly setting about fixing his work as the two ancient men observed his new writing. Loki nodded slowly, smiling as he read the new equations upside down.
"Much better. See? A very fast learner you are, Banner. That is nothing to be ashamed of," encouraged Thor.
Bruce whined. "But I have seven PhD's. Seven! I'm supposed to be perfect at this!"
Loki sighed. "My friend, no one is perfect. Perfect isn't even a real thing. It's something creatures create for themselves to feel safe. A standard that can be used as a means of feeling safe and free from the worries that life may throw at you. The constant assumption is that perfect people lead perfect lives with no problems. But nothing in this universe is perfect. There are only patterns and common behaviors. Perfection isn't real."
The shortest of the three men bit his lip, still not believing Loki's words, but knowing he should. Both Thor and Loki were ancient. They lived longer lives than any being on Earth. If they say something as deep as that, then it's most likely true, he presumed.
"Thanks, Loki. I guess I'm just so used to holding myself to this unattainable standard. It's hard to break old habits."
Thor smiled widely, clapping a hand on Bruce's back. "But it is much easier to form new ones. It would help you to say 'I will' every time you feel like you want to say 'I can't'. And then, when you do it, you'll realize that you can."
At his elder brother's actually good idea, Loki smiled widely, nodding his head in approval. "That is quite creative, Brother. I am impressed." Thor almost preened at the praise, smiling even brighter.
"But enough mathematics for now. Let us do something fun. It's high time we actually enjoyed ourselves, considering how often you bookworms drag me into your studies. You spend entire days at the lab and don't do anything with me. Let's go out. Have fun. Go see a movie. Something. You both stay cooped up in that room all day," whined the Thunderer.
Loki groaned, looking sideways at Banner, who also seemed uninterested in going out. Both seemed to light up at the same time, though, equally mischievous grins illuminating warm faces. "Let's go to a history museum!" they exclaimed in tandem.
Thor groaned. "So that Loki can do more mischief? I think not."
Bruce pleaded, shaking his giant friend's shoulder. "Come on, Thor. It'll be so fun! Besides, who knows what new stuff we'll learn! And after that, we can go to a movie! I promise. Pleaseee?"
Thor didn't particularly agree with the plan, but the older Asgardian melted and begrudgingly admitted defeat when Loki gave him the sweet expression he used to give his older brother when the trickster was a mere child. "Damn you, Loki. Always using that face. It's unfair, I tell you! Unfair."
Loki and Bruce high-fived, snorting as they walked towards the elevator. "Hurry up, oaf. We'll leave without you if you take too long."
The larger man rushed after his brother and best friend, smiling softly at the younger men's animated conversation. It had been centuries since he last saw Loki so carefree and happy. He would have to thank Banner extravagantly. Thor was indebted to him eternally. When Loki noticed his big brother's peculiar, overly soft smile, he raised an eyebrow. "What are you looking at?"
Thor recoiled a little, chuckling. "Nothing, Loki. I'm just glad you both are happy. Which museum would you like to go to?" He grinned. "I would prefer to go to the Smithsonian. Isn't that the one from that movie?"
Loki rolled his eyes. "You are a disgrace sometimes. This is one of those times." He squeaked when Thor curled a giant bicep around his neck. "Let go, brute!"
The elder of the two gods smirked. "Not until you apologize, little brother."
"I won't! Now let go of me!"
Bruce laughed hard, smiling gently at his friends. "Thor, stop being mean. Let go of him. He was just kidding, big guy."
Thor released his brother after placing a wet kiss on top of his head. "You're too tiny for your own good, brother."
"Shut up, you ungrateful ass. You're only as strong and fit as you are now because I put you on that diet and exercise regimen. And because I got you to go to therapy like a responsible adult, which you're supposed to be. You're older," huffed the smaller man.
The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival to the ground floor, and the three idiots got out to make their way to the garage area. Thor explained warmly, "I let you take care of me because I trust you to know what I need better than I do, Loki. You're smarter than me. You know my struggles and secrets and issues. You also know how to handle them. I usually don't. I'm fine with leaving myself in your hands. I trust you with my life, you little idiot."
Loki stopped, not moving an inch after hearing those words from Thor, who kept walking ahead with Bruce. He then sprinted forward and hugged his older brother, throwing his arms around Thor's giant neck. He didn't say anything, not trusting his mouth enough to say the right words. Thor turned around in Loki's grasp, returning the hug with warm, protective arms. He patted the smaller god's head and rubbed his back. He didn't need Loki's words to know what the other was feeling. "I know, little brother. I know. Now, let's get to that museum, yes? The sooner we finish that, we can go to the movie, and I want to do that before dinner."
Bruce smiled at the heartwarming moment, calling up to Tony's new AI, "FRIDAY, can you tell the others that the three of us are going to the Smithsonian and then the theater? We'll let you know which one after our museum visit is over."
"Sure, Dr. Banner. I'll make sure Tony knows."
"Thanks." And with that, the three of them picked out one of Tony's less expensive cars, at Bruce's behest, and drove away from the compound. Of course, Loki was the one to drive. Bruce was too nervous, and Thor was too brash.
Loki snickered quietly. "Again. The three of us out on these adventures. We should invite the witch boy again. It'll be just like Ragnarok again."
Bruce laughed. "Maybe even Valkyrie, Korg, and Meek too. That would be fun."
Thor sighed. "Korg and Meek won't be able to survive here with the humans. Everyone would be too afraid."
Loki sniffed. "Because the humans aren't still afraid of me, brother? They are. They'd be more afraid if they really saw me, Thor. Don't make assumptions you don't understand the ramifications of. Only you two can handle seeing my true self. Bruce is saved by the Beast. Thor is saved by his Asgardian nature. But the humans…they would crumble, Thor. Korg and Meek would fit in perfectly fine. I, on the other hand, never will…"
That last statement hung in the air like a threat, a promise, and an admittance all in one. It didn't affect their enjoyment that evening, but that isn't to say it left them unaffected after their night out.
After all, comfort is not a replacement for healing. And Loki needed to heal, a lot. But he'd have to wait. He'd have to wait to heal. First, he had to bring the child back home and make sure Strange knew she was safe too. Odin knows what that lunatic wizard would do if the girl doesn't come back there.
The only thing Loki didn't understand is when he started calling the compound home. But considering the facts of his new friendships and his slow rebuilding of his relationship with Thor, the giant complex started feeling like home. Maybe not the one he wanted since his youth, but it would do. It would do perfectly fine. At least until he got his children back. And then it would actually be perfect. It would actually be a home.
Many miles away, Dr. Stephen Strange sat in his office in the Sanctum Sanctorum and pondered the reasons his charge was absent from the Avengers compound. Loki had said that she needed to mourn, but she could do that there, right? She could mourn in safety. Strange believed Loki, despite the older sorcerer's proclivity for dishonesty. But he didn't know the extent of Loki's honesty.
If the Avengers didn't bring her back by the end of her mourning, he would go retrieve her himself. He would bring her back. She was his responsibility. She needed his care and nurturing. She was a kid. He called her his kid, whether by accident or by unknown intention. But she did need him. She had clung to him whenever he was nearby. Maybe it was because he was the one to save her from her family. Maybe it was because she knew no one else. Maybe it was because she was a scared kid and recognized him as safety and protection. No matter the reason for her reliance on him, he would bring her back and keep her safe. She wouldn't leave his sight unless the Universe itself collapsed around him.
The first step was to find out where she was. Loki had an easy way to reach her: he knew her soul. Stephen didn't. A dumb move on his part, really. He should have read her deeper and sooner, but he didn't. He had no access to any Infinity stones since Steve Rogers went back and returned all of them to their proper places.
Stephen would have to do things the old-fashioned way. He would read as many books as he could until he could learn a way to psychically see her life as she experiences it in real-time.
It would take forever to learn that specific activity, but he had to try. He wouldn't interfere, though. If Loki had been watching over her, then the god was likely also making little miracles happen for her. If Stephen involved himself, it would mess up the entire passage of time and the organization of how Loki wanted things to happen.
But for now, he had to scan through the books and read the one related to finding souls and seeing their experiences.
This would protect her. If he saw what she was going through, he would be able to protect her. At least, that's the lie Stephen told himself.
Every parent tells themselves that lie. If the parent knows exactly what the kid is doing, then the kid is safe from harmful things. But knowing the child's activities doesn't ensure anything. The kid can do anything. Experience anything. Think anything. And the parent can only presume and watch. That's it. Because the parent doesn't have the kid's experiences or knowledge. The parent doesn't know how to interact with the kid's own surroundings. The lion is king of its own pride, but it could never lead a wolf pack. You know only what you live.
Stephen didn't know her world. He didn't know what Sanjeevani could or would do. He couldn't interfere either. He could watch, and she'd be left to handle life and danger all on her own.
Tell me, does that sound like he's protecting her?
But it was comforting to Stephen. It comforted him to know he would at least know her condition even if he couldn't help her with it. He was comforted to simply have access to her mind. If he knew the gears turning in her head, maybe he could try and tell Loki what he could do next to help her.
He was okay with just knowing. Because he was also comforted by the fact that the kid was smart. She may not have any friends or experience with this world specifically, but she had experience with her own. And as long as humans thought the same way in her dimension and this one, she could protect herself. She could be safe without him. Maybe not from supervillains or monsters, but she could be safe from humanity. And that was enough for him. That was enough.