Knowing that Book was well wasn't enough. Loki had to see it—unable to shake the last crimson image he had of the boy. Once he had curbed the sucking hunger that came with a healing sleep, he had convinced the house to lead him to Book.
He was somewhat surprised to find Banner in the makeshift infirmary—but then the little hawk had said that he was a doctor of many different stripes. The man glanced up over his glasses as he felt Loki's presence in the doorway.
"Come to visit the patient?" he asked. "I'm afraid he's pretty out of it right now. Just started a new IV." Banner checked a steadily beeping machine and repositioned one of the many wires running to Book's sheet-shrouded form.
Midgardian hospitals unnerved Loki. He'd seen more than enough of them after Kayden had employed Book—and by extension Loki—to deliver reading materials to a fellow librarian who was recovering from having an extraneous organ removed. All of the wires and machines latched onto prone bodies, jabbing through skin, entangling limbs—it felt like being trapped in the work of a giant spider. No matter the scouring and stripped-bare scent of the places, death and sickness still lingered in the air. Asgardian houses of healing had no need for such primitive devices and the most confining thing about them might be a cuff that relayed information to the healers. And even when the air had been copper with blood, Loki had never felt death prowling the healing rooms as he had in Midgard's hospitals.
"Is he well?" asked Loki as he slid into the room, casually moving to the side farthest away from Banner.
"Considering he was dead—still not really sure how you pulled that off by the way," said Banner, glancing over a tablet at him, "he's not bad. No internal bleeding—a touch anemic, but that is to be expected—the external wound is fully healed and scar tissue has formed. His heart sounds mostly fine, but since Tony hasn't invented a portable MRI yet, we haven't been able to look at it."
Loki merely nodded in response, but inwardly he gave a sigh of relief. He had not known what kind of price blood magic might command—he really knew very little about it and cursed himself again for not having studied it more zealously. But Book was alive and well. Loki'd nearly gotten them both killed, but it had been worth it.
"We have got what might be a problem, though," murmured Banner.
"Of what sort?"
The doctor nudged Book's shoulder so that the boy rolled over, blinking drowsily. Loki's jaw muscles tightened. A streak of black now worked its way through the hair on the right side of Book's head. And as he blinked unseeingly up at Loki, the Trickster caught the flash of both brown and green beneath his lashes.
"I couldn't help but notice that he's taken on a bit of your coloring," said Banner. The doctor leaned back against a dresser and crossed his arms. "Somehow I don't think that's a good thing."
"Far from it," said Loki. He reached down as if to touch a black curl but jerked his hand away. "I had hoped to avoid complications."
"None of us are ever that lucky," said Banner with a sigh. "I still don't know what you did, or what kind of effect alien blood is going to have on a human system, but I'm going to need a sample of your blood to run some tests."
Recoiling, Loki edged toward the door. His hands subtly raised in defense. Blood carried life, and magic, and essence—it had the power to bind and command. The foulest curses he knew all called for blood. It was not for no reason that the ancient rites had been nearly eradicated.
A bemused expression settled mildly over the doctor's features. "Surely you're not afraid of needles?" An idea sparked behind his glasses. He loosely knotted his hands as he regarded Loki with sudden understanding. "It could be used against you, is that it?"
"Would you so easily offer up a part of yourself?" His calm returned. "Think what could be done with just a vial of your blood—the monster could be forced to the surface, perhaps used to create other abominations, or maybe it would just be used to kill you, cut off any chance you had of redeeming your past." He may have been weak, imprisoned, and bound by an oath, but Loki still knew enough of these Avengers to twist a situation to his liking.
Banner made a short contemplative noise and then laughed to himself as he began gathering up supplies. "Nat was right, you do like to talk. Observant too, aren't you."
Loki glowered at the doctor's cool indifference.
"But here's the thing. You've already made a truly valiant effort to die for this kid—I think we both know this is going to end up with me getting that sample." He snapped on latex gloves and drew a needle from inside a sealed plastic bag, attaching it to a vial while he talked. "And we will test it and study it and probably learn more about you than we already do. Maybe we'll even be able to weaponize our findings." Here he paused, his voice softening. "But we'll also have been able to do everything possible to make sure that this boy is okay." Patting the armchair next to him, Banner continued to lay out his tools, carefully unfolding an alcohol swab. A slight irritation crept into his voice, "I haven't got all day."
And here Loki had thought he'd be more fond of the good doctor than his alter ego. He recognized the intentional nature of Banner's irritation. It was a reminder that at any moment the beast might be unleashed. Even with his pittance of hoarded magic, Loki knew he was out-matched. He also couldn't afford that thing coming anywhere near Book.
"That was unnecessary," he said as he casually rolled up his sleeve with the ease of someone who couldn't care less.
"But it was kinda fun," said Banner as he cinched a rubber strap around Loki's arm.
Tony gaped at the empty fridge—only a half used bottle of ketchup, three slices of moldy cheese, and a can of anchovies remained. "How! How is that even possible?" He glanced bewilderedly at Steve. "It was full. Three boxes of pizza, a block of cheddar, six dozen eggs, two gallons of milk…" Tony trailed off.
"You don't want to see the pantry then." Steve leaned around the open doorframe, staring at the sparsely stocked shelves. "He found your Oreos."
"What?" Tony staggered away from the fridge. "They were in an old prune jar. Who opens a jar of prunes? And…how do you know about my Oreos." He turned slowly on Steve.
The soldier merely smiled.
"What is the matter my friends?" asked Thor as he strode into the kitchen.
"The matter is your brother. He ate my Oreos and all of our food—and my Oreos!"
"The ones concealed within the jar of prunes?" asked Thor.
"Et tu, Thor?" sighed Tony. "Who doesn't know about my stash?"
"Clint."
Tony gave a grunt of frustration. "You know what, never mind. What are we supposed to do about this?"
"I told you he would be able to eat a horse after he awoke from his sleep. It has always been so."
"That's a figure of speech!"
The puzzlement on Thor's face wasn't quite genuine. "It does not mean that if you set a horse before a man that he would eat it all?"
Steve grinned. "Not usually. Though in Loki's case it seems we were wrong."
"But, but, where did it all go? The sheer volume of food…the physics…how is he bigger on the inside?" Tony spluttered as he leaned heavily against the wall.
Thor shrugged. "The workings of magic are beyond me, but every time Loki has undergone one of these sleeps, he has awoken ravenous. I imagine his body must renew itself after its long fast and that the nourishment is instantly consumed by his magic." Thor leaned past Steve to look into the pantry. "We need more of the chocolate puffs."
"We need more everything," muttered Tony. "J.A.R.V.I.S.?"
"Placing the order now, sir." The computer paused, "Would you like the cereal with the little marshmallows and whimsical cartoon character or the nutritionally balanced flakes more likely to encourage heart health?"
"Lucky Charms, thank you very much. And stop talking to Natasha. She can eat her whole wheat, vegan, granola cardboard all she likes but I want sugar as the first ingredient. That or vodka. Do they make vodka cereal?"
"No, sir."
"Would you tell me if they did?"
"No, sir."
While Doctor Banner went about drawing his blood, Loki sat by Book's bedside, watching the slow rise and fall of the boy's chest and trying to ignore the implications of that insidious black streak in his hair. A morbid curiosity gripped him to peel back the covers and see the damaged flesh that lay beneath flimsy layers of cotton. He imagined what the knotted pucker of scar tissue must look like—ghastly against Book's smooth skin. It was a battlescar too hideous and terrible for one so young and unprepared to bear it.
If Juton's disguised as Aesir were less hardy or Asgardian healing less advanced, Loki too might bear such marks. But to face situations that may bring such wounds was every Asgardian's birthright—it was in their blood. It was not Book's lot.
Loki's fist clinched. He had brought this danger into the boy's life. He had repaid kindness with mutilation and death. If the blood rite hadn't worked…he wrenched his mind away from such thoughts. Thank the Norns it had worked. His eyes strayed back to the black streak. But at what price?
Loki glanced away, focusing instead on where Book's arm rested on the coverlet, upturned palm baring the fading names inscribed on his inner arm. Between being cleaned from battle grime and several days spent sleeping, the black marks had begun to fade. Loki deftly lifted a Sharpie from the Doctor's back pocket while he attached another vial to the needle in Loki's arm.
Gently shifting Book's arm to a better angle, he set the marker against the greying lines and inked them so that they stood out against Book's skin—so much paler than Loki had ever seen it: Cole, Madison, Montana, Deirdre, and Simeon. The marker paused over the final name. Simeon, Book's hero and protector. Loki couldn't help but glance up to the whitened flesh slashing through one eyebrow. They had both failed him. Both marked him.
A/N: Yesterday was a beast guys. I was so exhausted that my director actually benched me for part of the day today so that I wouldn't get sick (despite my protests that I was fine).
Anyways, sorry this is a bit of a short chapter, but next week's is actually rather substantial, so hopefully that will make up for it. I also kind of broke my rule a bit that I would only include things that I could actually imagine happening…and the whole refrigerator/pantry scene doesn't quite cut it for me, but it makes me laugh and so I left it in.
Next Week: Loki just can't help himself and the Avengers invite such tempting targets to be toyed with. Though he ought to beware that conversations not turn to areas he'd rather left undiscussed.
The Destroyer of Fate: Loki's Patron should definitely not be underestimated. He may be a trickster, but she's a bit of a chess master herself.
Guest: I aim to please! So glad that this update corresponded with your holidays. I'm with you as far as the romance goes, it's not generally my cup of tea. Though there are exceptions…if they're not the main focus of the story.
TripleLLL: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I've never seen my inbox so full and it really lifted my spirits after some grueling days of work.