Chapter 17: Sleepless

Okay, sorry about the cruel cliff-hanger last time. I felt bad enough to whip up the next chapter sooner than planned, so there, all better. Enjoy~

And LOL, in response to some of the reviews, Steve won't be seeing action for awhile (sorry!). He can't really allow himself to like Loki (freely at least) until his opinion of the god completely changes, even more drastically than now. Sure, he enjoys spending time with the god, as almost-friends, but they are still cautious towards each other. And Steve isn't about to forget how Loki killed so many people, just because the god turns out to have a not-so-terrible personality. LOL idk...I just want to give my two cents without spoiling anything. Their relationship is probably going to be the most drawn out saga I'll ever attempt.

But action is possible...eventually /cough

Loki doesn't speak, doesn't move, and watches Steve like a wounded creature—a trigger away from attacking. The soldier remains motionless by the door, feeling awkward and a little bit stupid. He moves to pocket his restless hands before realizing he only had boxers on, accompanied by a thin t-shirt. Steve swallows thickly—suddenly overwhelmed by a completely new sense of self-consciousness—before reminding himself that Loki is a guy, so it doesn't matter, and surely his state of undress isn't the reason why Loki is so upset.

"What's wrong?" Steve asks again. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Why are you here?" The god, of course, completely ignores the question. His voice is steady, although it didn't seem effortless.

"I—Well," Steve winces, because he's not entirely sure himself, "I wasn't planning to come in—like this, at least. The door sort of just opened."

Loki's jaws tighten. "Leave."

"No," the soldier speaks with surprisingly little hesitation, and the good appears taken aback, by the abruptness and rudeness of Steve's persistency. "Tell me what's wrong first."

Loki continues to glare him in stony silence, as if looks alone could banish the soldier from his sight.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" Steve asks after a pause, to with the god responds with barely contained rage.

"My quality of sleep is none of your concern."

"So is that a yes?"

"Maybe," the god snaps, frowning viciously, "So what? Sleep is of little importance to me, and your pitiful eyes is neither warranted or desired."

"I'm not pitying you," Steve sighs, feeling a small ache looming over his temples, "I was just worried. About you."

"I need none of that either," came the icy reply, and Steve lingers for a moment, almost contemplating walking away, before grimacing and offering the only assumption he can think of.

"Is it nightmares?"

Loki twists his lips to a harsh sneer. "Why would I lose sleep to something so banal and infantile as bad dreams?"

"Well, everyone gets those from time to time," Steve responds someone defensively, remembering his reason for being awake at this hour. "It's normal to have them."

"No, it is not nightmares," Loki spits the words like sour wine, and Steve frowns, clueless to why his mere suggestion had warranted such scorn. Surely, Loki has his fair share of unhappy thoughts, regrets, and even fears—and a grim reminder from his subconscious should hardly be unexpected.

"So what is it then?" Steve insists, softening his tone as a means of encouragement, "You have to be sleeping with the lights on for a reason."

"I am not obliged to tell you." Loki shifts on the bed so that he is cross-legged, facing Steve with almost child-like obstinacy, "Your plant is not in danger, and I have this under control."

Steve's furrowed brows suddenly rise, his eyes widening. "This is about Thanos, isn't it,"

Loki presses his lips together, shoulders tense, and he looks tired—he must be, to give himself away like that. "Perhaps. To an extent," he speaks through clenched teeth.

"What is it?" Steve feels adrenaline rushing in his veins, sleepiness long dissipated. "Does he know you're here? Is he coming?"

"No, he is not aware of my exact whereabouts," Loki closes his eyes, his words sounding like reluctant sighs, "But he knows that I am alive and well, which would narrow down the possibilities."

"What do you mean?"

"There are other realms I could have fallen to," the god smiles thinly, "where the inhabitants are less hospitable."

Loki's probably right, so Steve doesn't argue with that, but the thought of Loki stranded elsewhere—powerless in the lands of less sympathetic enemies—it leaves a thick knot in the bit of his stomach. "Tell me what's going on. How does he know?"

The god inhales deeply, and Steve can already predict a long, convoluted explanation, followed by inevitable bad news. And if he's lucky, Loki might even tell him the whole truth.

"I cannot sleep. As in, I forbid myself to," the god says, almost guiltily, "Because Thanos can infiltrate my mind through my subconscious, and sleep would leave me vulnerable."

"But, you can't just not sleep—" Steve looks at Loki with a touch of skepticism, before remembering all those early morning visits, and not once had he found the god actually resting. He breaks off suddenly with a sharp inhalation. "Have you slept at all these past weeks?"

Loki raises his chin resolutely, before answering, "No."

And for a moment, Steve simply gapes. "Are you insane? How are you even functioning?"

"Asgardians do not need sleep, at least, not to the extent of humans."

"You can't keep this up forever, though."

"Once I return to Asgard, sleep would not be such an immediate threat."

Steve wants so say it's a bad idea. Sleep-deprivation can be one of the worst forms of torture, and when a threshold is reached, people will lose their minds. Although Loki isn't people, so perhaps, he can actually pull it off. Steve had spent most of his waking hours with Loki, and nothing had suggested of the god's abstinence from sleep—that is, until tonight.

"If he gets you when you sleep, is it like nightmares, then?" Steve asks, and the glower he received appeared almost feral, prompting the soldier to quickly withdraw in apology. "Sorry, just trying to relate…Are you tired?"

"No, I am fine."

"So what happened tonight, then? With the clock and—"

Loki raises an elegant brow, assessing Steve with those oh-so-clever eyes, before responding in feigned frivolity, "You visit had been unexpected."

Steve crosses his arms, lips curving at the half-hearted attempt to downplay their previous incident. "We both know that's not what actually happened. Want to try again?"

Loki frowns, his eyes downcast, and it's evident that he had been stalling, trying to avoid the conversation at all, if possible. "I had been careless, but only for a brief moment," he eventually says, "It is the first and only mistake I have made, and I will not repeat it."

It is a vague response that answers nothing at all, but it's enough to validate some of Steve's previous suspicions. "You dozed off, didn't you? And Thanos came to you in your sleep, and that's why you reacted the way you did. Because you thought I was him."

Loki doesn't utter a word, but his face said it all—they way those brilliant eyes cloud, and paper-thin lips twist into a grimace. "What does it matter?" His voice is harsh, brittle even, "Your planet is safe and will remain so, I give you my word. Thanos cannot poison my mind as long as I am guarded, and surely, I will not freely surrender just so I can vex you."

He ends with a harsh exhale, nearly shaking with anger (and maybe something else), and Steve can't say that the lashing out was entirely unexpected. Perhaps, he had been to up-front—and in turn, too harsh—with the god, the subject of Thanos obviously a complex topic. But this is Steve's responsibility—his only one at this point—and he isn't about to risk the safety of the entire plant just because Loki gets defensive.

"I'm sorry. I want to believe you, but it's going to take a little more work on both of our parts." He keeps his tone decisive, but gentler, knowing that he is walking on eggshells right now with the god's cooperation. He takes a bold step closer to Loki, before reach for the chair by the reading desk. He turns it around to face the bed, and sits, as if to convey that he is not going anywhere. "Tell me what's going. Please."

Heavy silence hands between them, before the god finally surrenders, muttering through clenched teeth. "Fine. What do you wish to know?"

If feels as if they're back to square one—to interrogations and half-truths, in lieu of wit and conversation—and the thought of it tears into Steve's heart. But this is his job after all, and his interactions with Loki should be strictly business, ever since the start. He doesn't even recall the moment they had become—almost-friends.

"How is he able to do that to you?" He asks once Loki seems more relaxed, his delicate features no longer contorted in anger, leaving him simply wary and sad.

"During our brief alliance, Thanos had forged an immutable link from his consciousness to mine, so that he may monitor my actions, if needed. Since then, I have managed to suppress this connection to a point where it is only possible if I willingly forgo my consciousness, during sleep."

"Did you agree to this, or did he—" Steve doesn't know how to put this elegantly, and Loki's impassive stare isn't exactly helping, either.

"The prospect did not seem terrible, at the time."

There are many clues to suggest that the alliance might not have been wholly compliant on the god's part, but Loki is too proud to admit that straightforwardly, and Steve feels he has no right to delve into matters beyond the welfare of Earth. He wonders whether Asgard had taken Loki's possible reluctance into consideration when they determined his punishment. Surely, Steve can't be the only one concerned, but for now, he decides to drop the subject. The past is immutable, and the consequences are what they need to deal with right now.

"What happens when you fall asleep? Does he just—take over?"

"The subjugation is a gradual, step-wise process, and it takes time," the god says, "Hearing is lost first, followed by speech, sight, and lastly, movement and sensation. Without the control of the last two senses, Thanos cannot learn my exact whereabouts."

"So earlier before—"

"I could only hear his voice, before regaining consciousness, and in turn, severing the link."

Steve leans into the back of the chair, and waits until the information sinks in. He wonders if Loki knows this from experience, and if so, how many times has it happened? "What about when you first got here. You were out for almost the entire day."

"After invading Asgard, he needed time to recover. But now, he searches for me fervently."

"So what are you going to do?" Steve taps his index finger against the surface of desk, feeling restless.

Loki looks somewhat confused by the question. "I will keep from sleeping for the remainder of my stay on Midgard. It can be easily achieved, so worry not."

"What about afterwards, when you go back? Are you going to have bad dreams about Thanos for the rest of your life?"

"Not for the rest of my life." Loki lifts his chin—poised, resolute, and unbearably frustrating, "Once these chains are remove, my magic will protect me."

"Well, I hope it does," Steve half-scoffs, no longer able to hide the bite in his words, and it is Loki's turn to look at him with questioning eyes.

"What is the matter?" The god furrows his brows, head slightly angled. "Was my response unsatisfactory?"

"No," Steve says, his palm pressing against the desk, hard enough to hear it crack beneath. "You should have told me before. Why didn't you?"

"There is nothing you can do." Loki responds with unnerving calmness.

"We could have figured something out—" The words seem to fumble against Steve's tongue, leaving his mouth the minute his brain conceives them. "—gotten you more books, or movies, or something that doesn't put you to sleep—instead of leaving you alone all night. Or maybe Tony and Jane could've—"

"I am a prisoner, am I not?" Loki frowns, "What does it matter if I am entertained or not."

"It's not completely about you." Steve feels his patience thinning, and it takes an effort not to lash out, "If Thanos manages to get his army here, everyone on the planet is in danger."

"How many times must I repeat myself," the god practically snarls, teeth bearing and matching Steve's indignation in every way, "I have personal incentive to prevent such tragedy, and I do not need your help in preserving the integrity of my mind. Notify Asgard of my whereabouts, and I will gladly leave your precious planet intact."

Steve presses his hands to his eyes, frustrated and wishing this conversation hadn't taken place at such an ungodly hour. "For a prisoner, you hardly act like one."

He doesn't mean for the thought to leave his mind, and is almost as surprised as Loki to hear it aloud. The god presses his lips to a grim line, readily insulted.

"What I meant to say was—" Steve shakes his head, holding up his hand. "—Alright, so you're not a prisoner, in the traditional sense at least. Despite our differences, we're working towards the same goal, and you've been a lot of help to Tony and Jane, and—"

"Yes, and all well-behaved monsters deserve positive reinforcement."

"No, stop twisting my words." Steve eyes Loki sternly, and the god appears to withdraw, although his characteristic defiance remains ingrained in his expression. "We don't trust you completely. Given our history, it's nearly impossible to. But we believe that returning you to Asgard is the most appropriate thing to do, and that's something we both want. My point is, we don't have to treat each other like enemies, because we're not right now. No one has a problem with you in the lab or staying at the tower, so stop acting like we're the worst people in the world to you."

Loki's features relax, and Steve wants to believe that he's actually getting his point across—although with the god, he can never be sure. "You actually understand Tony when he speaks, and you helped Jane with her research, a lot," He continues, voice softening and wanting Loki to realize he means everything he says. "I'm serious. You probably fit better with them than I do."

"And Barton? Romanoff?" Loki's lips thinned to a wan little smile, and Steve wonders if the inevitability of the agents' return actually bothers him.

"Yeah, well—" The soldier sighs, because there's no point in mincing words, "—They'll need some time to get use to, but that's expected. We all needed time, and surprisingly, it didn't take as long as I would've imagined."

As uncomfortably revealing as those last words had been, Steve feels that it's something important that Loki needs to know. Although whether the god trusts him (or is willing to exploit him) is an entirely different matter. Loki's expressions aren't exactly easy to read, but Steve wants to believe that they've reached some sort of a truce—again.

"So I've said this to you once already," Steve concludes with all the awkward formality of an ill-timed afterthought, "But if there's anything else—regardless of whether we have any control over it or not—you have to tell us. Or at least me. Do you understand?"

Loki nods, almost entirely out of obligation.

"So is there anything else?"

"No," came the curt reply, and Steve reclines into his chair.

"Alright," the soldier says, threading his fingers through the front of his hair, feeling exhausted and unsure of that to believe. "Good."

###

"Okay, how about this one?" Tony ghosts his fingers over the display screen, and the previous model of the probe morphs into something completely new. This is the fourth one they've seen so far, and Steve wonders how the inventor could conjure up so many viable designs in a matter of days.

The soldier normally doesn't partake in the scientists' exertions, and spends his hours overseeing Loki instead, but now that the god has integrated into the lab, Steve has no other choice but to follow in suite.

Theoretically, he doesn't have to, considering Loki would be under the supervision of two Avengers—although Tony and Bruce aren't the epitome of trustworthiness and stability, respectively. If the team were actually assembled, handing Clint this assignment is completely suicidal, although Natasha's cleverness and composure would make her an acceptable candidate. Nonetheless, Steve firmly believes that no one is more capable than he is in dealing with Loki, and therefore, it is his responsibility to accompany the scientists, regardless of the likely redundancy.

"The overall size seems more appropriate," Dr. Selvig remarks. The previous models had been too weighed down. "Can you show the mass distributions, again?"

"They're all the same." Tony speeds his fingers across the keyboard, frowning somewhat impatiently as if he's unaccustomed to others questioning, or even rejecting his work. "It won't have a problem syncing with the frequencies."

"So once we send this thing through the portal, how would we know if it actually reached?" Bruce asks, tapping a finger to his chin in thought.

"I'll build in a signal generator," Tony responds, "A rudimentary one considering we can't weigh it down to much. We won't get any nice pictures, but it'll do the trick at least. Do we have any idea how long it'll take to travel through the portal? "

"Hopefully, no more than a few hours," Jane says, "The connection should be direct, although the exact distance is impossible to predict, considering how time and space themselves are distorted."

"If your—invention—" Loki's lips twist somewhat unnaturally around the word, as if he had conditioned himself not to use 'Midgardian toys' anymore, when referring to Tony's work. "—do manages to reach Asgard. How do you plan to convey your message?"

"I'm glad you asked." Tony grins before displaying the contents of a new folder. "At first, I was just going to use an audio recording, but then I thought, why not be a little more impressive?"

The inventor opens a file, and soon, a holographic image begins to materialize beside him—a young, busty woman dressed in kinky metal and leather.

"Of course, this is just an example of my recent work in visual technology." Tony rolls his eyes in response to several humorless glares. "I'm not actually going to use Bethany to contact Asgard."

"Is she supposed to speak?" Loki inquires, woefully unimpressed.

"Anything I want."

Tony does some quick reprogramming, and suddenly the digital woman comes to life. "You've been a bad boy, Loki," she drawls, licking her ruby lips as a riding crop suddenly appears in her hands, "And bad boys deserve to be punished."

"Tony!" Jane hisses—clearly appalled—and the inventor raises his hands in surrender, before making a few adjustments to the display so that an exact replica of his Iron Man suit stands in lieu of the half-naked woman.

"Fine. Whatever. I was going to use a hologram of myself all along."

"This will not work," Loki says briskly, and Tony purses his lips in response to the challenge.

"Of course it will. Why wouldn't it?"

"Odin's guards live by the model of kill first and ask questions later. Your device will not survive long enough to deliver the message."

The inventor crosses his arms and frowns, the hologram Iron Man mimicking his gesture. "So what are you suggesting then?"

"A message that cannot be destroyed by brute force or fire." Loki waves a regal hand.

"What. Like a hunk of metal with the message engraved?"

"That would be acceptable."

Tony scrunches his nose at the prospect. "And you call us the primitive race?"

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