"You are always welcome here, father. But maybe next time you could visit in a less messy way?" Hela suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Loki laughed, though it was forced. He could not believe he was doing this, going back to the Living Realms. He told himself that he was doing this for Thor and Sigyn, and no one else, but there was always that irritating voice at the back of his mind that hissed 'and for Odin'. His own mind was against him, which he found extremely unfair.

"I can't make any promises, my dear. You know what I'm like," he said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes, though he saw that she was suppressing a smile.

He stopped before Nari and Vali. They were just as they had been when they were living; twelve years of age, messy, snow white hair and bright green eyes. They understood what he was doing, and they smiled up at him.

"I'll see you again, don't worry," he said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. They were tall for their age, but they still only just reached Loki's shoulders.

"We like seeing you," Vali began.

"We just don't like what you have to do for us to see you," Nari finished.

They hugged him tightly around his middle, and he rested a hand atop their heads, closing his eyes. He missed this. Being able to hold his children. Having them close. But he let them go- immediately missing their touch- for he knew that if he did not, then he never would.

He looked at Baldr with pleading eyes. "Look after them."

Baldr inclined his head, pale blue eyes soft and understanding. "Always."

And once again he went to Hela. She embraced him, but it was brief. She could always visit him in the Living Realms.

"You know I can't keep sending you back, father. Your soul can't take the strain," she said quietly.

"I know," Loki said, and she nodded.

"This will hurt. A lot," she warned, taking her black glove off to reveal a skeletal hand. She placed it on his chest, over his heart.

Loki braced himself, nodding. His body would heal upon his soul returning to it, but it would be slow due to his magic restoring itself. And it would be painful. Very, very painful.

And then, with a sigh, Hela sent his soul back to his body.

(Ow.)

Oh, Norns, that hurt! He was sure that he would rather let Thanos tear the Realms apart than endure this. But, alas, it was too late for second thoughts. He opened his eyes to find whiteness in front of him. A sheet. They had covered his body with a sheet. For decency, no doubt.

With a groan he pulled the sheet away, forcing himself to sit up. His head spun, and he placed an arm behind him to keep himself upright. Oh, he was going to be sick. He looked down at himself. Or rather, he would have been sick if his stomach was intact. He could both see and feel tendrils of green magic weaving in and out of his flesh, through the blood- both dried and fresh. There was not much that Loki found disgusting, but the fact that this was his own body was enough to make him look away.

Someone screamed. Loki looked up to find a young woman, dressed in a white coat and formal uniform, staring at him with wide eyes.

Loki rolled his eyes and swung his legs over the side, standing. He was thankful that they had left him in his black pants. He stumbled rather ungracefully forward, out of the room. He was somewhere that was both familiar and foreign, and he searched his memories.

Ah. Of course. In Barton's memories, he remembered seeing images of this place. He was on the Helicarrier. Thanks to Barton, he knew his way around.

There were only two issues now: One, the sheer amount of pain he was in, and two, he had no idea where to find Thor and Odin.

So, one hand on the wall supporting himself and the other literally holding himself together, he set off to find someone who could tell him where they were.

Soon, as he had expected, a group of armed agents came running down the hall towards him. If he was not in so much pain, he would have laughed at the horrified expressions on their faces. With a grin, their guns disassembled themselves in their hands, the pieces falling to the floor. He slammed them into the walls with a blast of magic, and then he grabbed the nearest agent.

Still holding his middle with one arm, he pinned the human to the wall with his other, leaning on him with all his weight. He would fall over if he let go.

"Where are the Aesir?" He asked the man who stared up at him with wide eyes.

"I- I-"

"Sh-sh-sh, just tell me where they are and I won't hurt you."

"C-Conference room, one level up-" he slumped to the floor as Loki slammed his head against the wall.

(Hmm, I suppose the mortals have forgotten that I'm the God of Lies...)

As he continued on his way, alarms began to sound. He encountered many more agents as he went along, and he was still healing. Luckily for him, the sight of his mangled chest was enough to distract the agents long enough for Loki to gather his wits and knock them unconscious. He was not entirely sure why he did not kill them.

Eventually, he reached the right room. He knew they were in there; he could feel Mjolnir and Gungnir's power, as well as Sigyn and Odin's magic. He checked his chest again. His organs were in place once more, so now his ribs, flesh and muscles were reconnecting. He may have been a little too thorough in killing himself. There was a path of bloody smears on the walls and floors leading up to where he was now, but it did not matter. Nothing the mortals could do would stop him.

He opened the door to the conference room and stepped inside, closing the door again and leaning against it. He grinned at the varying expressions of shock and horror, saying, "And a good morning to you, too."