ANGEL OF LIGHT, SHATTER MY MIDNIGHT

It felt like a match went off. Warm hands, as rosy and soft as freshly baked bread, touched his(?). Something jolted in his chest. The touch was not a phantom's. It was heavy and confident, not taunting and soft enough to torture with aching ghost embraces.

He sucked in a deep, raggedy breath, and let the unending white walls call him from darkness. Death and oblivion, hidden behind the curtain of hollow hydrangea blues, fell into the pitch of dilated night. He heaved half a dozen times as blood and water drained from his lungs, ignited by the dissolving of the ever-blinding fog left behind from the light's sudden summons.

Before him stood a blob of brown tendrils, sun-kissed, patchy skin, and merigold drapes. A wad in his throat thumped like a second heart.

Hands slid up two long and thin pieces of tingling skin below his sight, which doused liters of life into layers upon layers of skin of ice, but all he could comprehend was the life stirring—exploding—in his cells. Biting ants crawled at the heated pleasure small, clumsy strokes emitted into his bones. The heat felt so astounding that a muffled noise spurred in his ashen throat, which drained so much out of him that his lungs screamed and the heavy, fluttering, original wad in his chest thumped with twisted pangs.

"Loki," he deciphered from the distorted sounds piercing his ears(?) like crashing waves coming from all directions. He felt like they would bleed at the sound, but two thin lines connected, somehow, and curved upwards. Whatever his half blind eyes were nestled inside and whatever those lines were stuck against (lips?), it shattered like porcelain.

And Norns it hurt so much. Utter agony reverberated like shockwaves inside his paper thin skin, leaving him to flounder in it the deeper it soaked.

The heat left his arm. The blob became bigger. Before he could truly process what changed, heat poured into his very cheeks. A frazzled light flashed over his head. (FACE! He had a face!)

He blinked, and it burned. Fiery streams foraged a trail of cooled lava upon his cheeks as the last of the fog dripped away. The hands—a trembling rumble ripped from his newly numbed throat as it happened—traveled down his sunken, ablaze valleys to the pillar of ice charred death that was his neck. He felt each succulent, enthralling (Oh…) nurturing, rejuvenating (…nORNs…) suave, majestic (…by the goooods…) embrace as each finger traced down his winter veins and fondled his skin.

"Loki…Loki, can you hear me?"

He clung to the strange sound and blinked away rivulets of moisture. The palette of summer colors fused into a stunning image of the loveliest face he'd ever seen.

She made the four walls of assaulting white and the endless ichor of the Void's ghosts dissolve into jealous, fuming strings of smoke. He could almost say they never existed, but Death's claim on him still stained his hair-thin veins.

Why did his angel look so somber? Moreover, mournful?

His ringing ears(?) picked up on some more harrowing noise. Pepper grains flickered over the angel's face (smaller than the ones already there) as the deeper, hoarser melody split his skull. "Jane, step away, now. His heart rate's flying through the roof."

Pain radiated from somewhere underneath his face. The now bigger clump in his throat made it impossible to breathe. Rain leaked from the nebula clouds under his angel's eyes, and she reached towards where the pain ricocheted from.

"He can't hear and he's hurting himself. I'm not moving, Banner." Her scorching fingers ran like rivers of fire through something soft above him. A school of black thin threads tickled his calescent cheeks. "Loki, don't slam your elbows back like that. I don't think you can feel it but you'll break them…Oh God, you're so thin."

All he heard was a beautiful song in a foreign language, and all he could see was the yowah opals in her eyes. He wished she could take his soul and chain him forever in her deepest blue flames.

"Let me to him," boomed the strongest noise out of them all. Then it sounded like thousands of porcelain china met cement all at once, and he felt like his soul trickled through a runoff beside his cheeks.

"Thor, stand down. We are trying to—"

"DO NOT TOUCH ME AGAIN."

"Fury, we're going code blue on him in fifteen seconds. His heart's about to crash. Get that emergency room ready."

"STARK AND THOR ODINSON—" a phantom of ice brushed far away skin and the torrent of warm liquid increased "—both of you shut it. Banner, get in there, take him outside of those damned walls, and stabilize him."

"An unfamiliar atmosphere will drive him into more shock. Look what seeing another being's doing to him. Expanding his cell more would..."

"I demand you let me speak to him at once, you tiny pests..."

"Loki...Loki, look at me. Look at me. What hurts? Please tell me, show me, please…"

"I'm about to tape all your mouths shut..."

"Rock of Ages 2.0, you need to put your schmancy hammer down and step outside right now..."

"OhGodOhGod. Banner, his ears—"

A brutal, tender siren carried over them. "So help me God, Fury, I'm taping your ass and all of S.H.I.E.L.D's over his grave. 22 fucking years of melting his mind wasn't on the damn bargain."

"Agent Romanoff, I don't recall you ever—"

"Kids," pierced a needle-like crystal tenor through them all. The others died away. "Jane, what's wrong?"

Loki watched, floating over the waves of his life, as streams of water slipped down his angel's sanguine cheeks. "His ears are bleeding. Close the fourth wall. Please. We're hurting him."

Even more is what her voice cracking at those last three words added.

"Banner, you heard her."

"I…I…He'll crash whether I shut us out or not. Jane, step back and we might be able to help him. Would 100mg of Morphine be stable for him, Veronica?"

"I believe not Doctor Banner. 10mg would be a safer starting dosage."

"Damn it. That won't help anything..."

Then, baring swords sliced through Loki's ears and tore their way down his throat, into his chest, and down down down.

Falling. Norns, he was plunging.

Away from his angel. Into the worst Void of them all. And all he could do was keep his eyes on the leaking sun.

(No—HoldMe—Alone—AngelDon't—Always—Leave)

"Never mind. Veronica, expand the cell; Stark with me. He's going out."

His angel's fire tore away from him, leaving him lost in a horrible, thick bog filled with spearing icebergs. They dragged him down and tore through every inch of awakened alive patch of skin.

Needles. Needles coated in cyanide. Cold scalded into his marrow. He begged the Void to let him scream, but long ago it had taken that right.

That, and a dragon inside his chest singed his insides and made its nest on what remained.

Ichor fingers knocked at the door of his soul, waiting, cackling, plotting.

Loki saw paper fingers dart towards his sun as she sunk into the white walls while rough shadows tore his skin off. His bones shivered furiously, and his fading eyes darted to two strangers…one with a kind face drowned in worry and another with a proud face dripping with anxiety.

"Damn it, Loki. You're supposed to be a god," whispered the proud one. He wasn't his angel…he couldn't even look up at him.

"Stark, focus. I'm giving him an epinephrine shot. On my queue administer Atropine."

"How do we know they'll even work on him?"

"We don't. All I need is heartbeats. I can work with those."

"Hey, who's the warmest one of all out there? He's as cold as a stone bench in Alaska."

"Veronica, give me readings."

"Reading beats per minute...67…53…"

"Atropine now."

"If I can even find a vein..."

"…40…32..."

"Now, Stark!"

"Got it, got it!"

"...26…19..."

"Nonononono. Banner, give him more!"

"I gave him the highest dosages! They're not working."

"So says the one who said he could work with heartbeats ten seconds ago!"

"Damnitdamnitdamnit. Thor! What hormones regulate heartbeats for Asgardians?"

"Loki is of Jotunheim."

"…11…7…"

"NOW, THOR."

"I DO NOT KNOW ANYTHING OF THE FROST GIANTS."

"Bloody hell of a brother you are."

"…I agree."

Behind his eyelids made of marble, he saw his angel falling at his side. Her golden fingers wrapped around the pale ones from earlier. (They must have been his.) Then her other hand kneaded circles into his forearm. Up and up she went to take his ashes and give him fuming wood.

"Don't close your eyes. Look at me, Loki."

With the rush of her life filling his nerves, a shiver ran up his spine and then something like pouring rain drowned out the dragon. The marble over his eyes softened into lead.

"...4…7…11…"

"Holy – Jane, what did you do?"

Her eyes of sunshine flit to the tender man. "I took his hand and massaged his arm."

"Coaxing blood flow…this is a kind of hypovolemic shock." The tender man looked to the anxious one. "Physical stimulation's helping counter something about it. Stretch out his left leg as slow as possible and massage it. Deep to the bone. Do not stop. I'll do the right. I need two other people, now."

Muffled shuffling moved towards him. Half of it stopped suddenly, while the other closed in behind him.

"No, Thor, if he comes too you could make everything worse."

"Captain, I wished this more than Jane. I must aide my brother now that I have been graced with another chance."

"Let me and Nat help you take care of him, though, for his safety and yours. You're not abandoning him by entrusting him to our hands. Alright?"

"…Alright. Be gentle."

A new pair of warm hands touched under his shoulders. Loki's heavy irises darted up to see red curls spilling above him. This angel whose hands scooped him higher over her lap and squeezed sensation into his shoulders had three heads...

"Wait 'till Barton hears this. Two decades wasn't enough for him. You get through this and I'll help you kick his ass."

"He's your husband."

"Your point, Banner?"

"Steady, okay. You're not the only one who's angry."

"Or leery." The tenor sounded closer. "Justice is one thing, cruelty another. But this…I just don't know what to make of this."

"…31…39…47…"

Sparks lit up his body until they converged into a park of a billion fireworks. Five pairs of hands massaged every cold bone, softly, as if they held a newborn child. He realized the sounds of whimpers came from his own throat when Jane chased the crick out of it.

"Why is he trembling?" was the melody from the second angel who now had one head.

"Sensation rushing back to you after you lose it will do that."

"Isn't that a bad thing? Can't he go into convulsions or more shock?"

"Yes," said Jane. "So slow down. The overstimulation can be just as bad as cardiac arrest."

"…58…70…82…"

"I don't understand. Why is he reacting like this?" said the tenor.

"Hey McDreamy, have you ever sat in one spot for 22 years straight, no food, no water, no day or night or other things, much less people?"

"Does being frozen in the Atlantic count?"

"No, you weren't conscious for that."

"Then I can't say I have."

"Exactly, so shush it and do your job. We can all be melodramatic weeping widows later, Kylo Ren dress and all…no offense, Nat."

Sensation spiked where warmth healed, then went out only to flicker back to a greater intensity until he felt his nerves were ablaze.

It all rushed back to Loki with each touch. He had legs, arms, fingers, toes, a head, a neck. Ears! Nose and lips.

And so it startled them all when he found his tongue by himself after the red-haired angel and the not-angel concluded a bickering session.

"Amma."

His voice sounded like broken glass. It was a slur, a delicate plead like that of a child lost in the forest at midnight.

Jane's fingers froze in his hair. All had heard, but she was the only one who understood.

Her mind raced back to remember Frigga. How would she, such a giant and tender soul, touch him or speak to him if she were here? Would she weep or sing to him or snuggle her youngest son into her warm bosom? Or would she do all of the above?

Jane stroked a glowing cheek and slipped a hand behind his head. "Here, heart of mine," she crooned. (That was what Odin called her, right?) "Amma's here."

She sucked in a panicked breath at how his hollow eyes seemed to finally see her.

"I don't think we should—"

"Shush, Doc," whispered the second angel.

Jane spread her warmth over his cheeks again. "You're okay." She held back a cringe. That was a bit too Midgardian… "Give me a smile as big as the Rainbow Bridge if you can hear me my darling one."

He hoisted the level of his chin, as if to get a better look at her, and blinked another handful of times. The nursing, retired Avengers kept their still warmth against his skin as they waited.

Then, he smiled. And they saw the muscles on his face contort in pain. Still, everyone let out a deep breath, at which point they realized they'd been holding it.

Jane couldn't help but smile. "You'll be okay. You will. I swear."

"Doctor Banner, my calculations detect Master Loki's average BPM is around 160. He is currently at 97 and rising steadily."

The worried shadow stood up and rubbed his hands together. "We'll get him back up there. Got anything else?"

"Yes, sir. I have detected a foreign hormone's presence in his dermal which behaves like what I conclude is the Jotnar version of adrenaline. I shall have an injection of it ready for use if you would bring me a blood sample."

"Fantastic. I'll get that for you once I have him sedated. Analyze him as much as you can in the meantime."

"Yes, sir."

"Cap, would you help me move him?"

"'Course. Where to?"

"I set up a room for him, upstairs… What? The whole museum exhibit thing with him, well, wasn't too keen about it. Veronica, warm up some blankets while you're on a roll por favor. And get me a great lawyer. I've got country governments to sue."

"Yes, Master Stark."

As Natasha and Jane helped Steve gather Loki smoothly into his arms, Banner followed Stark outside of the cell. The doctor checked all the prince's vitals while Stark gave Fury an unamused glare.

"You're damn lucky he didn't die because I'd be suing you too."

Jane left Steve's side to join Thor's, but all the sudden Loki started writhing and panting in the stranger's grip. Natasha tried to calm him, but the more she talked, the more Loki struggled. Jane flew back before the princeling could tumble out of Rogers' awkward hold. What comforted expression she had nursed earlier vanished, and in its place brooded such a look of despair that it made her failing body shutter in agony.

Suddenly she understood why those wild blue eyes haunted Thor. Why the mighty warrior of legends looked at his baby brother in those moments with such a helpless expression…why he'd become a ghost since the younger's second betrayal twenty-two years ago.

The endless humanity tumbling inside a personal Void hollered for help because not only did the fallen prince break, he fell deep into the bowels of a ferocious destroyer and he needed someone. Alone was that only someone, and not a friend in the slightest.

So, in this cell, twinkling with white branding lights and the constant strangling hug of always remaining the same, he fell deeper until he was all and decimated.

Just like Thor at Svartalfheim, she didn't know what else to do but hold his hand and lie to him–that everything would be alright. Like an anxious first-time mother at the pediatrics, she watched unable to move as fear burst through the floorboards of silent eyes when Banner gave him a surprise shot of a sedative.

#

In his floundering consciousness, Loki held fast to the exquisite orchestra staged around him.

"I think it has more to do with his subconscious," clapped serene piano keys. "He's not in his right mind right now – won't be for a long while – but that doesn't stop him from remembering it was Jane who pleaded for him."

"Do you think he remembers us then?" joined sweet and bold acoustic strings.

"Likely not. Our subconscious holds on to memories that shake us to our core. He expected uncensored blood thirst against him, but not Jane starting what she did."

"I don't blame him," lulled a smooth clarinet. "I've never seen any lawyer storm in last minute like a dragon in shining armor. Never seen one cry like she did either."

["You are all blinded with hatred. Look at his notes."

"We have, and the three-thousand of us have concluded he has scribbled up fictitious facts to give him and his allies more time."

"If that was his goal then why would he allow himself to be here, chained and muzzled like an animal, when he could be with his so-called allies reeking havoc or…or underground, planning our end like a proper villain?"

"Miss Foster, you seem to forget he furthered the Chitauri Invasion of 2012 by allowing himself to be apprehended. Also that he is no 'proper villain,' but rather a violent, scheming beast whose every breath adds an inch to each of our graves."

"Justice Brown, I will return to your claim later, but take out his notes. And. Look. Again. You see that formula? You competent enough to see it? Well guess what I damn well tested?"

"You tested this formula without prior authorization?"

"AND IT BLOODY WORKED. SIX TIMES."]

"She wasn't his lawyer."

"Should I say voluntary lawyer for lack of better words?... Oh, good of you to join us, Fury. I was worried Stark may have blasted you and your sorry excuses into space."

The bass followed their melody with confident plucks. "Romanoff, just because you've retired doesn't mean you're free to speak your mind in matters that go way beyond you. I've also had my fill of snark from Stark for today." Then they became uncertain. "How is he, Banner?"

"Rousing slowly. The shots of magnesium sulfate carried him out of bradycardia."

A sudden rush of warmth rippled inside his forearm. The ecstatic strokes of the viola's concerto sang away a rising tendril of fear as he felt its fingers trace his veins.

"His veins contracted some, which is good. I wasn't looking forward to praying anticoagulants would work with nonhuman blood. Don't see or feel any improvements otherwise… Is the parenteral nutrition even helping?"

"You know it takes weeks for the mixtures to get the patient stable. We're made to eat, not have a Thanksgiving meal pushed through our veins."

The viola held a wavering note of anxiety. "Well if Sleeping Beauty would wake up already then maybe we could encourage some indulging."

Acoustic strings plucked lighter in a whispered secret solo. "Son, we have a bigger problem."

"We may be thinking the same thing," joined the haunting but lovely clarinet.

"That this won't work because he doesn't respond to anyone but Jane? Is that it?" He truly became the solo this time, but he didn't seem to relish the spotlight. "I'm just worried that maybe…maybe it's…"

The lifeless auditorium absorbed his unstrummed worry. A shared worry that ran across all their sheet music. Black notes or white, thick strings or thin, open or closed keys, busy chords or not, they all shared that centerpiece.

In the midst of the silent orchestra, a flute's sweet melody revived the weary orchestra.

"Hey, I'm back. I had Selvig's friend of a friend mix a better parenteral for him." The sound of squeaking wheels wound the room around its neck. "Thor found out Jotnar need less proteins, less vitamins, more sucrose, and more minerals, especially a particular one whose closest Earth match is lepidolite."

"Welcome back, Jane," the piano interjected, "But lepidolite is basically a rock. You can't just push rock dust into a bloodstream."

"You've forgotten that Loki is not a human."

"Right, but how do you plan to give it to him in proper strength considering most of it dissolves in liquids?"

Warm ocean waves crashed along the cold sea walls inside his bones. Trembling fingers wrapped around his arm, and the flute grew breathless on some notes. "See the powder in the tube? That's lepidolite. Once it dissolves it will wash down with the mixture into his bloodstream. No strength to 1% lost. Quick, change the TPN. The earlier he takes it in, the better."

After some clicks and the sounds of plastic crumpling tainted the melody, the acoustic took center stage again. "So where's Thor?"

"Had to go…Thanos."

[Thanos is the warlord of warlords, he is your enemy.

Eternal/immortal being blessed by Celestials with immortality and super strength.

Aims to please "Mistress Death" by bringing her annihilation of every living thing.

Well renowned for subtlety, mind control, magic, and war tactics.

"The Santuary" = His base/watch tower.

Coordinates N5X2 - 1O6311411 + 2123518. Its destruction will cripple the Chitauri section in his army.]

"Which world did he attack?"

"Alfheim—"

[ORDER OF ATTACK: Vanaheim, Alfheim, Asgard, Svartalfheim, Midgard, Jotunheim, Muspelheim, Nornheim, Helheim…

IN THAT ORDER.

NOTE: Svartalfheim is desolate, Jotunheim a swift seize, Vanaheim falls whether or not Asgard does, Midgard will meet his army when it is vulnerable/weakened from attacking Asgard and Alfheim.

SUGGESTED: Form alliance with Muspelheim; they shall be the strongest link left.]

"—home of the light and cat elves; planet of souls that can age for 10,000 years."

"Is Asgard strong enough to hold him back?" played the bass. It irked him…that bass.

There was a sigh, and then fingers wrapped tighter around him. "Whatever's left of them sure would have been 22 years ago." A thick paste of silence clogged all air. It didn't stop until it smudged over their sheet music, oiled over joy sparks, soiled whatever remaining hope ran through their veins.

Then, the somber piano keys led them all through the destroyed music. "I just weaned him off the sedatives. Are you up to trying to feed him when he wakes?"

"Of course. What have you got?"

"Nat made some of her killer lamb broth."

"And some cherry pie in case he feels like today's a good day."

"Mm, he probably won't considering he hasn't consumed anything for so long. Neither should we push anytime soon. He'll be throwing up anything he swallows for a few weeks until his organs recuperate. If he can swallow two teaspoons a day, then it will be a good day."

"Why so little?"

"Because of refeeding syndrome. I assume any starved body would suffer from it no matter the race."

"I remember the complications that syndrome brought to Jews saved early from camps."

"Precisely, Cap. We have to tread slowly."

"In that case I'll make a new pie when he's ready. I hope you will sit until he's come too, Jane. You need all the strength you can save."

"Just because I came in a wheelchair doesn't mean I need it."

"Does that mean you brought good news?"

"It...It metastasized, Tony. From skin, to breasts, to lungs, to bones. I'm not winning."

"But you still have the option for chemotherapy—"

"If the bio-treatment from my own spinal fluids didn't work, then I have less a chance with the traditional treatments. Not to mention the odds of me shortening my life by going down that road…Enough about me, though. Nat, would you bring some broth?"

"Of course."

So, Jane Foster turned the conversation back to the prince. She declared that each day would have a mantra for his sake as much as theirs.

Day one, Sir Walt Whitman: "Be curious, not judgmental."

By dusk, the team found their hearts as swollen as Jane's as they helped her try to nurse her fellow dying comrade, but all he could do was hold his eyes open for no longer than a minute.

Day two, the wise Plato: "The beginning is the most important part of the work."

By dusk, Fury stopped by again. The thickest bone in his body gushed, which led him to help Jane convince Banner to not give the fallen prince more opioid analgesics even though he trembled in the wake of a 120 degree fever yet the room looked like a wild ice palace and his eyes had a pink shade to them and his skin a sheet of blue.

Day three, honored Socrates: "To know is to know that you know nothing."

By dusk, Clint Barton himself shot to his foe's side when his trembling fits grew so intense that he slipped off the edge of his deathbed, and caught him and raised him back up even though the ice in Loki's skin prickled his with monstrous frostbite.

Day four, a quote by Foster herself: "Don't judge by a person's cover. Their book is still being written."

By dusk, through gallons of coffee, endless restless days and nights, and buckets of tears (of frustration of course), Banner and Stark concocted a medication that eased the fever and the trembling, but sent Loki's heart into arrhythmia, for which Veronica formulated a medication to counter it.

Day five, honored Socrates again: "The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new."

By dusk, Jane collapsed when while taking his heavy clothes off with Pepper and Stark's help so he could have lighter ones, they uncovered a gash the size of a fist with a whole rainbow of purple colors under his diaphragm. She didn't wake until ten hours later.

Day six, Mohandas Gandhi: "Where there is love there is life."

By dusk, Banner and Romanoff had the gash disinfected and sewn closed, and Jane's sobbing pleads for him to wake woke the raven prince, who found her clammy feverish hand with his stone cold fingers. And Banner and Rogers and Romanoff held their breaths when they saw Jane shoot up and hug him close to her aura of sunny warmth; smiled in cracked mirrors with the way he melted so trustingly in her arms.

Day seven, Friedrich Nietzsche: "There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."

By dusk, Loki responded to words with no more that a look that he understood, but no less than it. Jane helped him drink a cup of Romanoff's broth, and the whole team assembled to see the hopeful sight of the prince emerging from the spindly fingers of the Void one quarter still intact. No one minded when all of it came back up, nor the cleaning up after because Loki's skin held an ounce more of life to it.

Day eight…well, Jane didn't get a chance to stick that PostIt around Stark tower.

One of Jane's kidneys failed as Rogers walked with her back to Loki's room, a steaming thermos of more broth in her hand. She toppled to the ground like a cake. Cap pick her up and in his utter panic bolted towards the nearest hospital.

Not another hour passed when a gang of Muspelheim's giants of fire broke through the ozone.

[INFINITY STONES

Tesseract - Space stone - Asgard

Scepter - Mind stone - your Vision

Aether - Reality stone - Tivan the Collector, Knowhere

Orb - Power stone - Nova Corps, Xandar

Two more stones missing (Time & Soul). Three fit per Gauntlet (glove), which Thanos has one of.

NOTE: I have detected the signature of one on Midgard. He will come to retrieve it. Midgard should have the 400 sorcerers I mentioned beforehand ready to enchant a sword to kill the eternal. Reference spell, page 10.]

Rogers clashed through the hospital's windows, shield ready at his back.

Romanoff's golden crusted apple pie slipped from her fingers and crumbled into sticky splatter when she saw a flaming giant arm punch the building across the street. She bolted to the rooftop, where she leapt onto the passing Falcon's back and Barton swung off his ankles, bow and arrows ready.

Banner, who was walking back to the tower with groceries, broke into the Hulk when a crushing gust of fire slammed him through a brick wall.

Stark and Lang, who met up in Stark's garage so the latter could hand his suit over for some touch ups, transformed into their suits when Vision and Scarlet Witch flew by, yelling that giants of fire attacked.

Fury, Coulson, Hill, Barnes, and Black Panther burst into motion when their radars screamed terrestrials were on the loose.

Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, and Daredevil, all moseying about in their respective firms with their latest cases, dropped everything and ran outside where they met and joined the fight.

They thought they knew the definition of pandemonium until the true army of 12 different races of rebels—Thanos' army—marched into all streets of the world with horrible war cries. Later they would learn that this was just a chip off his army.

From 9:37 AM to 11:16 PM, the messy team fought, and somewhere between those troves of chaos, the fallen prince awoke.