Next chapter. There is plot.

Disclaimer: Nothing Marvel is mine.

Chapter Two

Doug followed Doctor Petersson through the wings of the hospital, in relative silence. He didn't really enjoy hospitals; they muffled sound and speech in a blanket of weariness and stress. As they approached the room where the patient was being kept, Doug discerned the distinctive opening of Doctor Who. Doctor Petersson saw his look.

"He enjoys watching television, and a nurse has a box set of Doctor Who," Doctor Petersson said. "It keeps him calm."

"Whatever floats his boat," Doug said, and started to walk into the room. Almost immediately, he could see something was afoot.

The patient was half-sitting in the hospital bed, unfocused green eyes pointed vaguely at the television set. Jet black hair fell beyond protruding shoulder blades, bringing Doug's focus to...

"I thought the patient was male?" he muttered.

"Mostly he is," Doctor Petersson said. To his credit, he didn't seem at all disconcerted by the patient's sex change. "It's a side effect that comes with the medication. It looks like when he gets unfocused, his form goes in flux."

"...Okay," Doug nodded to himself. He'd seen weirder stateside.

"I'll let you alone with him. Holler if you need anything," Doctor Petersson said as he left the room.

Doug approached the bed, and the patient looked up quietly.

Doug cleared his throat awkwardly. A problem he sometimes had with his preternatural gift for languages was that it was difficult to switch from one to another without someone initiating conversation first. It wasn't impossible, of course, but switching gears like that was always difficult, especially with a language he hadn't tried out yet. And what was he supposed to say to this guy?

"Hi... my name is Doug. I am here to help you out," he finally said. The patient, whose attention had been distracted by the supernatural melodrama unfolding on the television, looked at Doug in slow shock. "I am a linguistic specialist. I work with cases like yours all the time."

Minus the fact that nobody on Earth speaks your language, but that's beside the point.

"You seem surprised," he continued awkwardly.

"I thought I was going mad," the patient admitted softly, "that I'd lost all capacity for speech."

"Not quite. I would say it's pretty obvious that you're not from here, but you're definitely not mad," Doug said reassuringly. The patient smiled weakly, and turned off the television. "Do you have a name?"

"If I do I've forgotten it."

The patient seemed vaguely amused by this fact, and smiled apologetically at Doug.

"I ought to be more helpful, oughtn't I?" he said.

"Well, it's just a bit awkward not having a name to call you by," Doug admitted.

"Call me what you will," the patient said, and looked at Doug. "You said you were here to help. In what way?"

"Well, mainly I want to help you learn Norwegian, so your stay here is a bit easier. Normally, I have software that facilitates this process, but it hasn't got your language downloaded."

Oddly enough.

"Thank you," the patient said, and Doug took out his dictionary with a grin.

Thor didn't often get visions. He was not as attuned to the realm of dreams as his brother or mother were. So when he did get an augur, he, arrogant Thor, knew better than to wave it away in a show of hubris; he paid reverence to the dreams he remembered.

So when he saw his brother sitting in darkness, lips stitched shut with thick cord, he grimly said, "I thought you dead."

"You are not wrong," Loki said. It was perfectly reasonable to be able to speak without moving one's lips here. "When I fell I shed vengeance and fear, and so in a way shed myself."

"But you are alive?"

"I speak to you. I am present here. In Midgard, my mind has been halved and quartered," Loki said. Indeed, his appearance was haggard and flickering. "I am in Midgard."

"Where? Are you safe?

"I know not where I am. My perception has... changed. But I am protected. Those around me don't wish to cause me harm."

"Brother..."

Loki stood up suddenly.

"I am in Midgard," he whispered. "I am in Midgard."

Thor awoke to the sound of cicadas. He turned over in his too-small bed, and said a prayer to whichever gods were listening. Few knew that they of Asgard were just as likely to pray as those who worshiped them.

After his prayer, Thor went on to find the kitchen. The Avengers mansion was well-stocked with every kind of fare, and often there was company to be found, for it could not be said that his team-fellows kept regular sleeping patterns.

Tonight Tony Stark was in the kitchen, watching a show on the television which was on mute. It was a news channel, though with the explosions and whatnot, Thor could have easily thought that he was watching one of the films that were so popular here.

"What think you of the X-Men?" he asked, startling Tony.

"For a big guy, you are obscenely good at sneaking up on me," he said blinking a couple of times at the god of thunder standing before him. "The X-Men are... interesting. I'm not sure what their angle is, but they seem to be doing good things. Are they what's keeping you up?"

"No. I had a vision of my brother. He came to me in a dream," Thor said quietly. "And it unsettled me."

"I thought your brother was dead," Tony said.

"As did I. It appears that he still lives, in some capacity."

"How do you know it wasn't just a dream?"

"The visions of the Aesir are never just dreams," Thor said bluntly. "If I spoke with my brother in the sleeping-realm, then he has been spared Hel."

"But wasn't the reason that you left Asgard for good...?"

"It matters little if he is alive. My father was still glad to see him dead," Thor snapped. "He did not mourn, stripping Loki of the honours due to him, as a son, a once-king, and a warrior of Asgard. Such an insult is beneath even the lowliest of parasites and worms. I shall continue to wield Mjolnir in Midgard until my father sheds a tear for the son he drove to madness."

"Speaking of which, if he is alive, is that a cause for concern?" Tony said, reeling a bit from the passionate speech. Thor could be described by many words, but eloquent wasn't one of them. "I mean, by your own admission he tried to obliterate an entire world already."

"He does not have the power that afforded him the opportunity before," Thor said shortly. "The Bifrost remains shattered, and my brother is not at the height of his ability."

"So where is he?"

"I know not," Thor said, and went to the pantry for his box of Pop Tarts. "He says he is safe, but he does not seem hale."

Tony asked a few more questions but Thor, deep in thought, would not answer. Exhausted, Tony went back to bed. He was never a fan of the Asgardian telenovelas that came with his alien teammate.