DAY 14: 1332 HOURS
He landed on the front path, and a young child nearby blew his bubblegum so hard; it popped all over his face, leaving a sticky pink mess.
"Good morning, young one," he said to the child, but he could do nothing but stare, and as a result, the boy flew off the swing in his front yard. Thor was in his neighborhood.
He ambled up to the door and rung the doorbell.
"The door's open."
Is that Loki?
He entered, sticking Mjolnir on a hook by the door. He immediately entered the lounge, where Loki lay on his stomach, on the floor with a young girl, several sheets of paper and books spread out between and around them.
"I think you better stick with the mythology books for your sources," he told the girl, "if you tell your teachers that you used the real god of chaos for your primary source of information, one; you'll get an 'F' and two; SHIELD would burst into your classroom and take you away."
"Just tell me which myths are real and I'll do those," said the girl.
"Do Thor's big white wedding, Utgardaloki, Sif's hair, and Ragnarok," Loki told her.
He was idly scribbling on a sketchpad while the big piece of cardboard remained blank. The girl copied notes from one of the thick books and she pointed at a myth. Loki looked over her shoulder, "what really happened?"
"Dunno, Ragnarok hasn't happened yet," he shrugged, "just assume I become an obnoxious head that hangs from Thor's belt."
"Remember," the little girl waggled a finger at him, "assume makes an ass out of you and me."
Loki heard him approach and looked up, "hi, Thor."
"Hi Loki," He sat down on the sofa and smiled, "what enthralls you, Brother?"
"It's just a lame assignment for English class," the girl answered.
Loki smiled, "Sophia asked me for help with her assignment," he continued to draw the picture, "I am doing the design as I am an impeccable dresser."
"And he is my main source of information," Sophia added. She grinned at him as he went back to work, then looked up again, "wait; are you a Space-Viking too?"
"Umm."
Loki looked up, "say hello to Thor, god of thunder and self-proclaimed champion of Earth."
"Hello Thor," Sophia beamed up at him. Thor watched them for a second before he noticed that Bella was leaning against the door frame.
"Come into my office," she beckoned him away from the lounge, and he got up and followed her down a flight of stairs, into a dark subterranean cavern. She flicked on the lights. Workbenches and rows of tools lined the benches, and on one makeshift bench in the center of the room were several bits of carved wood, Thor recognized them immediately as parts of a throne.
Bella saw what he was looking at, "he wants to put it in the living room," she explained, shrugging. She dusted off a stool and offered Thor a seat.
He sat down, "are you alright with that?"
"At least it's not a longboat," she sat on a disused saw horse herself, "he wants to give it to me, for some strange reason. But woodwork seems to keep him calm, so I have nothing against it." She poured some bourbon into a mug and a jar, and handed Thor the mug, he took it carefully, "and at least it beats Diablo 3 where he's yelling things about death to all mortals all night."
Thor did not understand half of what she had said, "This is your office?"
"Basement," she answered, "so, near enough," she grinned, "you need the poop on my progress," she noted. Thor sort of raised an eyebrow at her, "I've barely scratched the surface, but the Kid's got more baggage than a Samsonite factory. At least he's mostly over the Borderline Personality Disorder . . ."
"I do not understand," Thor's brow furrowed.
"A Samsonite is a suitcase, but that's not important right now," she waved it off, "now back to the point. There is much more going on underneath that icy exterior, but he's melting a little. I see evidence of a disorder that we humans call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," Thor still looked slightly confused, and so she decided that she would dumb it down a little.
"You see, after a period of intense stress, a person can develop problems such as flashbacks, nightmares, depression, anxiety," she counted them off on her fingers and sipped her bourbon out of the glass jar, "I have told your brother as such, and he refused to admit that there is a problem."
Thor smiled, "that is Loki, stubborn and proud."
"More like weak," Bella corrected him, "it is a classic example of emotional transference. He is outwardly stubborn and proud and in control to disguise the fact that he has no power at all. He feels although he is spiraling out of control, and a part of himself that scorns for not coping better."
"How?" Thor asked her.
"I am of the belief that he was tortured by the Chitauri," Bella replied, swigging her bourbon again. She knew that she probably shouldn't be drinking at this time, but she did anyway. Thor thought about it. It made sense. Loki had gone from only wanting to be his equal to wanting to see him and Odin dead at the foot of his throne.
"It's like comparing the Lion King and Terminator Two: Judgement Day. It's a big leap, so something big must have happened to cause it," she said logically, " and after reviewing the security tapes from SHIELD and Stark Tower, I noticed this," she handed him a still of the pair fighting on the balcony of Stark Tower, "that is not a camera flare."
She was right; Loki's eyes were glowing, "what does this mean?"
"I'm not Sigmund Freud or anything, but I would wager that it is something like hypnotism, but stronger, where a certain instruction is implanted in the mind, and as it unfurls, takes complete control," she gulped, "it appears that Loki came to Earth under the control of the Chitauri. I cannot think of a worse torture than to be locked into your own body while somebody else drives it around and makes you destroy stuff, and people." She smiled wryly, "that and he told me."
Thor nodded, "what can you do?"
Bella smiled sadly, "the treatment is supportive. He needs those closest to him, but I am afraid you and Odin may cause more harm."
"Explain."
"Thor, old chum," she sighed, "there is still a part of Loki that is still repressed, living in your shadow, trying to be heard, trying to live up to you, trying to be just like Daddy. Unconsciously, he compares himself to the both of you, and when he does, he feels weak. The last thing he needs is to feel inferior."
"So what you are saying is-."
"He needs you, but not yet," she said, "he's not strong enough. He holds a lot of guilt for what he has done, and he wants more than ever to fix it, but he can't bring himself to face his father."
Thor nodded, "I understand," he nodded, and sipped the bourbon, "you drink this?"
"There's alcohol in it," Bella said flatly. She sensed his unasked question, "I have seen it," she told him, "so many times," she sighed and sipped her bourbon, "I know I can do this, because I survived. You have my word, so will he."
Thor put down his bourbon and nodded to her before leaving. She followed him up the stairs. They both glanced into the lounge as they walked past it, to still see Sophia and Loki lying on the floor, chatting about the assignment. Loki was still drawing, and grinning like an idiot, and only when he moved did he see the picture. It was of him and Thor, grinning, covered by blood and stains. Thor grinned.
"I have a question for you, Sophia."
"Shoot."
"Why do they call you 'Chicken Hawk'?"
Sophia grinned, "I want to be Hawkeye when I grow up, but Mom keeps saying I'm too little," she wrote down something in a little, black book, "'I ain't that little'," she did her very best Henery Hawk impression and Loki laughed.
"There's a scared kid trapped somewhere in there, I just know it," Bella put a hand on his shoulder gently, and he made no attempt to shake her off.
"So do I."