(Author's Gift To Reviewers: Cast in Ballerina Outfits)

Loki: Why did you do this to me, you insufferable mortal? (is wearing a green glittery ballerina costume)

Thor: Ah brother, I think you look cute! (is wearing a pink ballerina costume)

Loki (on the verge of exploding): I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER! And I do NOT look cute, there is no man who looks cute in TIGHTS!

Clint: Robin Hood does. And Steve. Steve wears tights. Like, always. Not just when a silly writer wants it (glares at me while straightening silly purple tutu)

Tony: Clint, that is so gay I don't even want to think it through. Okay, I just did. Urgh, need brain bleach. And by the way, Reindeer Games, you have one nice ass. (winks)

Loki: This is beyond insufferable. It brings back really bad memories. (Glares and frowns)

Thor: Oh, you mean that one time you dressed up in our mother's robes and... (Gets smothered by Loki, situation escalates and turns into a big ballerina-fight)

When he woke up his head was pounding, and after going through the questions he mentally checked off every hangover morning (where am I? How did I get here? Who is that in my bed?), it hit him. Loki, evil villain Loki, throwing-him-out-of-a-window Loki, was lying in his bed, right next to him, his arms wrapped tightly around him. Tony suddenly felt wide-awake. He escaped from the god's grasp, turned around, and faced him, readying himself for whatever was to come. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw though. The god looked up at him, trembling, his eyes pleading and on the verge of tears. It was a real sad puppy look that made Tony falter in his resolve to get the trickster out of his workshop and into SHIELD's custody as soon as possible.

"Come on, don't do that to me. You're the villain, you're supposed to be smirking and insulting me!"

He eventually exclaimed. Loki just continued to look at him, his eyes full of sadness.

"P-Please… I d-don't want to b-be… alone…"

It was the first thing the god said since he had appeared in Tony's workshop, and his soft, desperate tone did it. Tony sighed and sat down again, wrapping his arms around Loki, who immediately scooted closer. He wondered what could have possibly shaken the god so deeply he sought comfort with his enemies…

"Sssh… You're not alone. I'm here. Sssh…"

He couldn't help but want to comfort the trembling man in his arms. Seeing Loki in a state like that was so wrong, so contrary to everything Tony knew of him, that he wanted nothing more than to make it go away. After a while Loki's breathing evened out and he fell asleep, and Tony was left with a lap full of mischievous god. For fear of waking Loki he just stayed there, sitting on the edge of the bed, wondering what he did to the universe to make it hate him so much…

(Pagebreak)

A week. A week and Hela still hadn't showed up in class.

"A week is long, even for a sulking Goth chick. Don't you have her number?"

Justin tried to find a solution for Peter's problem, because the other boy hadn't been in a particularly bright mood since Hela's disappearance.

"No, I doubt she even has a phone, actually. She doesn't have a lot of tech… Foreign, remember?"

"Wow. You mean Norway is like a country-scale renaissance fair?"

That earned him a playful punch. Justin rubbed his arm and grinned at Peter.

"Seriously, Pete. Who doesn't have a phone?"

"Hela. I mean, I think so. I never asked her number, actually."

"When asking for an umbrella is already too much, I can understand that…"

"Watch out or the next punch is on your waffle, Justin."

"And do you know where she lives?"

"No. All I know is that she gets dropped off and picked up by this black Merc every day after school. She could live anywhere, for all I know."

Justin stared thoughtful in the distance.

"You know, her address must be in the school database. It's standard regulation, because they send all the bills there. Maybe…"

Peter was already pondering over how he might be able to convince JARVIS to hack the school database, when Justin took his laptop from his bag and sat down on a windowpane in the corridor.

"What are you doing?"

"Give me a sec."

Peter obediently waited, and waited, and right before the noon break was over Justin glanced up from his screen.

"Hela L. Helvete, that's her, no?"

Peter's eyes widened when Justin gave him an address.

"You… you hacked the school database for me?"

"Yep. That's what friends are for, no?"

Peter wanted to hug the small boy.

"Thank you. You have no idea what this means…"

"Well, I hope it means your mood improves."

When the bell rang, Peter grabbed his things and ran off in the opposite direction than the classes. Justin called after him.

"Can't you go see her after class?"

"No, I have to see her now!"

He ran out of the school, waved his arm at the first cab he laid eyes on, and gave the driver Hela's address. Once he had read that all you needed in life was courage. Thirty seconds of courage could be enough to do that one thing, to make that one change. The drive to Hela's apartment was way longer than thirty seconds (NYC traffic, you wish) but still Peter thought of that statement as the cab stopped in front of a posh apartment building. He had to get in there and he had no key…

For a while he paced in front of the building. Then he saw a woman walk up to the door. Thirty seconds, he thought, and he raced towards her.

"Madam, please wait! I need to get in but I don't have a key!"

Great introduction. The woman eyed him suspiciously, but she still waited.

"And why would you need to get in, if I may ask?"

"I come to bring my friend's homework. She's been sick for over a week, and the teacher asked if I could bring her the notes. She doesn't answer the bell though."

"This friend, who is it?"

Please, as if that lady knew every single person in the building… It turned out she did. As soon as Peter gave her Hela's name, the woman smiled in recognition.

"Ah yes, you indeed have the same uniform! I often cross that girl in the morning, such a polite young lady. And her father too, such a handsome and well-mannered fellow, always holding the elevator for me… Come in, you know they live in the penthouse, right?"

"Err… yes, of course."

"Come, come. I'm sorry to hear the girl is sick. Wish her the best of Mrs Richards from the thirteenth floor! Perhaps I can bake her cookies once… "

"I will. And thank you, Mrs Richards."

"Ah, it's nothing! Come, we can take the elevator together!"

Peter sighed relieved when the constantly babbling woman stepped out of the elevator. Impatiently he watched the floor numbers as the cabin made its way to the top. Standing in front of Hela's door hesitation grabbed him again. What if she really didn't want to see him at all? What if it was the wrong address? Thirty seconds. Come on. He braced himself and pressed the bell button.

(Pagebreak)

Hela lay down on the floor of the apartment, her magical tendrils spread out as far as they could reach, her mind scattered over the city, trying to find a sign of her father. A week now. A week he had been gone. At first she had simply waited for him, pacing through the apartment, switching between irrational anger and inconsolable worry. Then she had started to look for him, reaching out with the mental hands of Death to see where he resided. She knew he had to be alive, for she knew every soul that entered her realm, but even with all her magic she couldn't find him. Eventually the search had exhausted her so much she had simply put herself down on the floor. Sleep hadn't come; instead her mind had sought further after Loki while Hela herself drifted on the tentacles of her own magic.

When the bell rang, she barely heard it at first. At the second time it rang, she forced herself back into her body to see what was happening. The first thing she thought was that it had to be Loki. But why did he rang, couldn't he teleport, or use his key? And how had she not seen him? Trembling and unsteady on her feet, Hela made her way to the door. The person behind it though was not who she expected.

Peter saw how Hela's pale face dropped when she saw him, and he cursed himself for not bringing flowers or anything, if only to hide behind.

"You."

It was clear she had wanted to sound vicious, but her voice cracked and made her sound like an old lady.

"I… I was worried about you."

"N-No… need. P-please go."

Hela sounded sick, and she looked sick, and Peter would be damned if he left her like that.

"You look ill. Is anyone home with you?"

Hela's eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"No. I am… a-alone…"

Peter couldn't stand it any longer. He wrapped his arms around Hela, who didn't even struggle, and helped her back inside. She was wearing some sort of black silk robe, and her hair hung loose over her pale, bony face. Peter felt an unpleasant chill along his spine when he held her, her skin feeling unnaturally cold against his.

"Wow. You're ice cold."

"I am always cold, you foolish mortal"

Hela whispered, but Peter didn't hear it.

"You're sick and you should be in bed. Where is your room?"

Hela was too tired to fight. Too tired to even protest as Peter practically carried her to her room. The abundance of black, from the walls and flooring to the big canopy bed with velvet curtains and soft silky sheets, surprised him. The room was so dark that it seemed night in there even while the sun shone outside… Carefully, Peter tucked Hela in. She was crying. It had been so long since the last time someone had done that… When he sat down next to her and softly patted her hair she only cried harder. It reminded her of what her father used to do when she came home crying after a day of being bullied…

"I… I'm p-pathetic…"

She mumbled in-between sobs. Peter shook his head.

"No, you're just sick. It's the fever, that's all."

She had a fever? Apparently yes. She had exhausted her magic too deeply, and now it was backfiring. Hela sighed and tried to control her trembling.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I… I don't know…"

"I'm going to look for something to eat for you, try to sleep a bit."

Hela wanted to smirk, tell him that sleep never came for the Goddess of the Dead, that she was sentenced to a waking life, for Death never sleeps either... But she couldn't. Her eyelids were heavy and even though she knew it wasn't real sleep, she gladly surrendered to the unconsciousness the fever induced.

(Pagebreak)

While Hela appeared to be asleep, Peter went on a search for something edible. There wasn't much food in the fridge, so in the end he settled for tomato soup from a can. While the soup heated, he looked through the penthouse. It was a beautiful apartment, very tastefully decorated in different shades of green. A modern black leather salon formed the centrepiece of the loft, but there was no television or computer. There was, however, a telephone standing on a side table, together with a block of post-it's and a black marker.

"7:30 A's Wall Str., 13:45 Call Victor, 16:30 Pick up Hela."

In an elegant handwriting and written on a stray post-it, Peter found a little note with reminders, obviously from Hela's father. No telephone numbers unfortunately. He walked over to the bookcases that covered a whole wall. Hela clearly had her love of reading from her father, there were hundreds of books in the penthouse. A lot of crime fiction, some biographies, really old books Peter didn't recognize, books written in what he suspected was some Scandinavian language, and in a corner of the bookcase there were even some scrolls. Remembering the soup, Peter made his way back to the kitchen and prepared a bowl for Hela. Then he returned to the girl's bedroom.

Hela looked worse than before, sweating and mumbling in her sleep. Peter put down the food tray and softly shook her.

"Hela. Hela, wake up."

The girl slowly opened her eyes as if it cost her a lot of effort. She looked hazy and confused, and immediately as she spotted Peter her trembling became worse.

"It's okay… Sssh…"

Peter sat next to her and held her carefully. He managed to feed her a few spoons of soup before she dazed off again into what was everything but a peaceful sleep… As soon as her crying and trashing became too bad Peter woke her, and then she would give him that vague look of someone not entirely aware of her surroundings, but after the third time Peter couldn't get her to wake up again. Her hands were ice cold, but her forehead was glowing with fever, and Peter had no idea how bad it was. When the situation suddenly changed Peter had his answer: very bad. Hastily he called in on JARVIS' network.

"Hello Mr Parker, how can I be of service?"

"JARVIS, can you put me through to Dr Banner, please? It's urgent!"

"Are you in any kind of trouble, Mr Parker?"

"Not anything you or the other Avengers need to know of."

"Noted, Sir. You are being put through."

Peter heard AC/DC on the background –definitely Tony's idea- until someone picked up.

"Banner."

"Dr Banner, it's me, Peter."

"Yes, JARVIS told me you had an emergency. What's wrong?"

"Remember this girl I told you about?"

"The mutant one?"

"Yes. She's really ill, and I don't know what to do! She has a fever and at first she would wake but then I couldn't wake her, and now she's sitting up in her bed and she's screaming all kinds of things in this foreign language, and her eyes are all turned away and I think it's really bad! I'm at her house now, could you please come?"

Dr Banner sighed. First Tony refusing to leave his lab, Pepper on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and now this... how utterly convenient. He had never been one to ignore a cry for help though, and leaving the tower would do a great deal for his already challenged calm…

"I'm coming."

He hung up, gathered some medical necessities, had JARVIS track Peter's location, and told the others he was going out for a walk to calm his nerves. A little later he reached the apartment building where Peter and the suspected patient resided. He rang, was let in, and went upstairs. Peter was waiting for him in the hallway, wringing his hands and clearly in distress.

"Where is the patient?"

"She's in her bedroom… I… I couldn't stay there… she…"

When they entered, Dr Banner immediately understood what Peter meant. The whole apartment felt… horrible. Sick, as if there was a really disgusting smell hanging there. Not to mention the deranged screaming that resounded through the place. Dr Banner bit his teeth and called JARVIS.

"JARVIS, translate this recording for me please."

He sent a short piece of Hela's screaming to the AI, who almost immediately responded.

"This is the approximate translation: It sates itself on the life-blood of fated men, paints red the powers' homes with crimson gore. Black become the sun's beams in the summers that follow weathers all treacherous."

Peter stares at Dr Banner, pale and feeling sick because of the weird atmosphere in the room.

"Fevered ramblings?"

"On the contrary, Mr Parker. This is a quotation from the famed Old Norse Edda, more specifically from the poem Völuspá, which speaks of Ragnarök, the end of the world."

This leaves Peter stunned.

"She's quoting ancient texts? Isn't Old Norse a dead language?"

Dr Banner shakes his head.

"That's of no concern. She's clearly very ill and not completely in control of her powers. Perhaps you better wait outside until I know how to help her."

"No, I want to stay."

"No problem. I just hope you won't throw up."

Dr Banner hoped he wouldn't throw up himself… The effect was worse inside the black room where Hela sat… Her fever was dangerously high, and seemed to have put her in some kind of trance. Dr Banner administrated a strong tranquilizer that broke through the girl's state, and after a moment in which she stared uncomprehendingly at them, she collapsed. With that the sick feeling also vanished from the room. The doctor then proceeded to inject her with fever-reducing medication and set up a basic IV drip with saline solution to counter the girl's obvious dehydration. He turned to Peter, who still looked pale.

"Now I want to know what all this is about. Where are her parents?"

Peter shrugged.

"I don't know. She hadn't been in school for a week, and I was worried. When I came here, I found her ill and feverish. I put her in bed but she quickly got worse. When she started screaming and sending out that sick whatever-it-was I called you."

Dr Banner shook his head in disbelief.

"A week, you say? With this kind of fever?"

"It wasn't this bad at first, I think… She was still fairly lucid when I arrived, not… screaming about the world's end in a fucking dead language."

Dr Banner sighed.

"If the fever doesn't drop I will be forced to take her to the hospital, you understand that do you?"

Peter nodded.

"I looked for telephone numbers or anything, but all I found was this note. I think it's from her dad."

He handed the post-it to Dr Banner, who examined it.

"Any idea who these people are?"

"Hela, that's her. Her dad always picks her up after school. He definitely can use the reminder, for as far as I know he's never been in time to pick her up. As for the others, I have no idea. I suppose the Wall Street thing is about her father's work, but that Victor could be anyone really."

Dr Banner stared at the note, and thought, and stared again. Peter looked worried, checking for signs that the doctor might be turning into his green alter ego. No such thing happened, although Dr Banner did look a little pale.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded quickly.

"Oh yes, I am okay. Just still feeling a bit weird." He pointed at the note. "Can I keep that?"

Peter shrugged and nodded

"It's at least a week old, so I doubt they'll miss it."

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to take some samples and examine them in the lab. If you would stay with her?"

"Of course."

Not much later Dr Banner left the building with some blood samples, a green post-it note, and a really throat-clenching suspicion… It couldn't be that this girl…

(Author's Notes)

Yes, sick!Hela and sick!Loki xD And Dr Banner has some suspicions... Wonder if that'll trigger the green man... This chapter had a lot of Hela, but I promise there'll be more Loki/Stark interaction in the coming one ;)