Lead Me Back to Normalcy

A/N: As promised, here is the next installment! I'm really torn between finding this chapter to by my absolute favorite and hating how the story is developing. Weird, I know. I'll be interested in seeing how chapter eight turns out since I don't even have an idea!

I'm bringing this up because so many people have brought it up in the reviews, yes, I am incorporating as many aspects of Norse mythology into the story. For some reason, no one (that I have found) has yet to address the issue that Laufey had children as well. As the frost giants were, in some sense, a major portion of the movie and a catalyst for the chaotic nature of Loki to explode. I felt that portion should also be included in this fanfiction. There is so much to explore with the idea of Jotunheim, Laufey and his family, and Asgard that it would seem crazy not to.

With that said, thank you guys again for the love you have shown this story! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you have the previous ones!

A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

Chapter Seven: A Childhood Nightmare

Thor's scream never reached her ears. There were no thoughts her head, no thumping of her heart in ears, and no idea of how fast she was running as she weaved in between the frost giants. All she knew, all she felt was the instinct to run. But running would not be enough as the snow began to nip at her angles and bite viciously into her cloak. With numb fingers, she struggled to find the clasp that bounced against her collarbone. Only by the skin of her teeth did she feel the clasp come undone. The rolling snow waves behind her wolfed down the cloak as an appetizer.

With a blink of her eyes, her world changed. The crackling beneath her feet came from the twigs being snapped beneath her bare feet. She could feel the warm blood tickle her skin as it rolled down her legs. The bottoms of her feet were bleeding, being torn away, eaten away, and pushed that extra step. In truth, her feet no longer hurt. No, she was well passed the pain threshold. Sigyn could not feel any pain aside from terror, yet, she felt in control of every muscle with such clarity that she didn't so much as stumble on the thick roots that cluttered the forest floor. She trees rustled with her presence as their low branches smacked her across the face and scratched at her arms angrily. Sigyn could hear his loud, thunderous roar as he too ran.

Glancing over her shoulder, she caught a glance of the man. Tall and thickly built for power, he plowed through the forest like it was made of paper. She, on the hand, struggled to push against the branches. It seemed the forest was bending to the man's temper, sacrificing her to save its own life. Sigyn caught her breath at the sight of the whites of his eyes. Her foot faltered as a vine constricted around her ankle. She jerked madly, causing the branches to scream out in pain as they were ripped from their trunks, but no amount of force would save her from falling head first into the leaf-littered ground.

Smack!

Her world was icy and bloody again; everything within her sight had a red hue to it now. Every second before her became an impossible amount of time; and somehow, she couldn't believe it within her own heart, she had faced this situation before in her life. With glazed eyes, Sigyn watched was one by one the frost giants were gobbled up by the snow; disappeared from the world forever. Helblindi, he was in front of the pack, pushing others down as he too tried to out run the reaping. She could see him perfectly set against the summer woodlands of Midgard, running just as Helblindi was doing. One by one an axe was thrown in an attempt to injure or kill the frost giant. One by one he dodged them, ducking behind a tree, only to see the metal sail passed him. Damning screams ricocheted throughout the entire forest to bring forth the warriors' strength.

By her next blink, the Jotun the warriors had been chasing stopped, turned around, and looked directly at her. He stood proud in the face of death. His red eyes were swollen, sullen, and tired. Blood trickled from his left eye from a wound that had been inflicted earlier with a dagger. Now the blood mixed with tears, not just a few but many. The giant shook his narrow face in denial, curling his knuckles in the process. Blood too trickled from his right hand and dripped onto the muddy floor beneath him. He squared his shoulders as he prepared for the warriors to surround him. His narrow body was unusual and made for swift movement instead of the typical heavy footsteps of a frost giant; however, he towered over any frost giant with ease. The trees' leaves stroked his back, and their edges froze from his cold heart.

He glanced around as the warrior came within feet of him, baring their teeth as him as well as their weapons. The Jotun looked to them, but there was no sympathy on the men's faces. His arms trembled before stepped towards them and bellowed louder than any creature before him on Midgard. His breath was visible, chilling the nearest men's beards. Sigyn could feel their fear as they took steps back from the caged beast. She too felt fear. Somehow, she didn't know how, the Jotun managed to notice her actions more than those of the warriors. Immediately his expression softened. Mixed feeling fluttered through his stomach like the changing winds in a blizzard. His breaths were becoming increasingly shallow with each passing moment. The Jotun felt like a fish hung out in the summer sunlight to suffocate and wither. The crude impaling weapon that had adorned his left hand shattered to the ground in a million little pieces—the sound of his heart breaking.

In a very human fashion, he licked his lips because there was nothing else he could do. He'd be damned to fight back against the warriors, especially in front of her. Yet … Yet the Jotun wouldn't—couldn't be content with standing back and becoming their piñata. He didn't want the last image of her being that of the Aesir murdering what she considered a person without reason. The air escaped his lungs as he felt the ice begin to form around his closed fists. Every fiber in his being told him to back down, to turn around, and leave this place; and at least, he would live to see another day and possible long enough to see Sigyn. Realistically, that would never occur. Too much had already unfolded for him to ever see her again. From her large, deer-like eyes, he could see into her soul, see the damage he had done, see the absolute fear she held for him. All she needed now a reason and she would hate him. It would be all she would ever need to be accepted by them.

Blood splattered to the ground in front of Sigyn. The high screech of a head cracking against the rock was unmistakable. The limp body flopped over like a ragdoll as a result of the injury. The red eyes were already soulless as the snow rolled him like a bulldozer. They were the same soulless eyes that had stared her down as the Jotun fell to his knees; fell before his reapers. The axe had been pulled free from his chest with a sick suction sound. With it, his chest became exposed to the air. The blue innards smoked from the hot, humid air. His own personal pool of dark, almost black blood collected around him as it oozed out from the chest wound. With it, the bodies of two young Aesir lay in it as well. The insides of their bodies were strung out across the body, splattered onto the nearby trees. Sigyn could see the flutters of the heart of one of them through the hole in his chest. The heart of the Aesir abruptly stopped when the Jotun's body swayed to the left before collapsing forward. His blue face was now dyed red in his own blood, in his own mistakes. But now, his mistakes were hers.

"Father," Sigyn breathed emotionlessly.

Her frail voice stirred the other warriors as they turned to see the young two year-old hunched over and wrapping her arms around her chest as if it were going to fall apart. In many ways, it felt like that. She didn't understand, couldn't comprehend what the Jotun had done. The faces of the Aesir, of her family, were not friendly. The warriors whom she had watched with fascination and admiration directed their hunger to her. The clinging of their armor sounded like growls as they turned on their heels to her. At that moment, when they picked up their feet to head towards her, she let go of her chest and fled into the forest. The tears ran down her face.

Gently, Loki's hands brushed them away. His arm moved around her and pulled the nine year-old onto his lap. His body was considerably much larger than hers and easily wrapped around her like a protective barrier. She slid naturally against Loki, as she became a small ball. His chin rested on the top of her while she wept. Guilt wrapped around his chest like a boa, slowly squeezing the life out of him. His stomach was becoming more knotted with each sob that she cried. Her tears would leave permanent stains on his robes and a permanent scar on his memory.

"I am sorry, Sigyn," he whispered to her. "I didn't mean to make you cry." The young god took a deep breath to calm his body. He could feel Sigyn's body quiver and shake with breath. Her small fingers wrapped themselves tightly in his layered clothing. He at the very least had to be strong for her in this moment. "You need not to say anything about your past, Sigyn." He gently stroked her back with one of his hands in an attempt to ease her sobs. He could feel her muscles relax underneath his touch, but it did not relieve the guilt and pain he felt gathering, brewing inside of him for putting her through such trauma. Loki never imagined that such a simple question would bring such a painful reaction. Silently he swore never to make her cry again.

The memory of her faded like morning mist in sunlight. Loki was left fiddling with the worn bracelet in between his fingers. The forest colors against the brown fabric were faded with age and washed out from the sun's light. Still, he could admire complex runes and interweaving fabric she had created for him when she was still young and considered him a friend. His fingers rolled smoothly over the gift, recalling she had given it to him before he had dared asked her the question. The pain he felt that day was real now inside of him. Loki could feel the faint traces of Sigyn sitting in his lap as the physical aspect of the memory began to fade. Strange that of all the memories the bracelet held, that was the first one to come to him.

Yet, perhaps not to strange once he began to ponder over the memory. After all, he had left Sigyn in the room with tears running down her face. He could feel a punch roll through his stomach at the sight of her, standing in his room, blood oozing out of the burn and rolling down her arm, and terrified beyond his comprehension. Her screams still echoed off the inside of his skull from when he had obliterated the giants into nothingness. He could feel Sigyn's hands lose their grip on his arm as she collapsed to her knees. God… Loki took a deep breath to calm himself—he didn't expect to feel his heart racing like a stallion or to feel the hair raise on the back of his neck—before the emotions of that day came flooding back to him. Still, the day didn't seem real to him, even years later.

"Sigyn," he whispered. Her name still flowed off the tip of his tongue so easily, so naturally. Everything about her was so natural to Loki. She was just, just so innocent compared to his mischievous behavior, but again, Sigyn had always been a child. Even in her actions she was innocent, sweet, and shy. Her kisses were but butterfly touches against his lips, soft and tender; however, he knew them to be playful and teasing, as she would seduce him. Sigyn just fit so well with him, like Sif and Thor did together. Especially after the sex when his wife would curl up next to him and he would hold onto her like she were his teddy bear. Her skin touching his, his fingers cupping her small breast, and his breath taking in her scent was all he ever needed to know that heaven could exist outside of death.

"See, I'm not crazy! He's right there where I told you."

The more nasally, female voice broke his daydreaming with a rather silent but painful shattering of something inside of him. Loki whipped his head around to see Jane and Darcy staring at the mirror across the way, the mirror of which held his reflection. Darcy turned around to where Loki should have been sitting on a dinky chair in the cluttered room of computers and calculations, but there was nothing but air. Darcy naturally pulled out her taser and aimed it where someone should have been. Jane, on the other hand, continued to stare at Loki with her eyes matching his. Loki was the first to blink, for some reason Jane's glower simmered down a sympathetic stare.

"Darcy, stop it," she spoke calmly. "He's crying."

Her statement unusually threw the god off. Loki brushed the palm of his hand against his high cheekbones and felt the moisture squished underneath the pressure. So wrapped up in his memories he hadn't even noticed that he had shed a tear for his wife. Loki abruptly stood up. His reflection towered over Jane—not nearly as much as his wife. Poor Sigyn, she was about a foot shorter than her husband. Jane fell about six inches shorter than he. He turned to the side, making the motion to leave.

"Don't," Jane requested. She could feel Darcy's glower upon her like daggers pressing into her back. Loki stopped mid stride to cast the physicist an unpleasant glance. From his satanic horns she knew who he was instantly; however, none of his other characteristics seemed to match those from the books. He was much younger than what artists throughout the ages had portrayed him and much less a traditional masculine than what she saw in the books. His face was longer with large, intellectual that she felt would miss nothing underneath their gaze. His jaw line was strong; though not nearly as angular as Thor's.

Darcy spitefully lowered the taser, but Loki made note that her finger still rested on the trigger. Jane saw this through the mirror. She took a deep breath, unsure of what to say as an awkward silence fell over the trio. "You're Thor's brother. Loki, right?" she asked rhetorically.

Loki visibly flinched at her statement. He could feel the stitches in his heart being ripped open again. Even on Midgard he was still overshadowed by Thor. "I am not Thor's brother," he countered venomously. Darcy was taken back by the bite in his voice and raised her taser again, pointing it where the god should have stood according to the mirror.

"But you are Loki, no?" Jane inquired.

"As if I would be anyone else," Loki sneered.

"I'm gonna tase him," Darcy warned.

His eyes glowered at the dark haired woman for a moment before dismissing her threat. "Ignore her," Jane responded. "She's just a little trigger happy." His mouth was pulled into an obvious scowl at her obvious statement. "But… What are you doing here? And where is Thor?" Her voice became increasingly more hostile and worried. "And how the hell did you get in there? If you did anything to Thor—"

He raised a hand and remarkably she went quiet. Loki let out a deep sigh while he pinched his nose. Still she insisted that he was attached to his brother at the hip. He ran his hand through his hair before looking towards the mortal with a bored, annoyed gaze. "Do not address me as if I am some criminal and you the prosecution, Jane Foster. Know this, you are only talking to me right now because I am permitting you. I can at any moment be gone, and your questions will go unanswered," Loki spoke clearly and with an authoritarian flare to his words. "Is that clear, Jane Foster? Lady Darcy?"

Both women nodded. "Good," he replied. "To answer your first question, I am here because I wish to be at the present moment. My gifts are most useful here to insure that no one disturbs you and your servants while you work." He peered to the right of the room. On the various tables Jane's homemade equipment was still alit with life. "Though it seems Tony Stark escaped my protection while I was wandering through my thoughts. I'll bring him back since he has been most useful to you, no?"

"Wait," Jane interrupted. With angry eyes she stared back at him. "You've been watching me?" Her frustration at her privacy being invaded should not have been a shocker—fuck, being a member of SHEILD meant any and all secrets you had were kept in a file for people like Agent Coulson to evaluate. "How long have you been watching us?"

"Some time," Loki responded neutrally. "Not much though, a few years at most. There have been some days when I have not come to monitor your work because the monotony has become too much for me to handle."

"Why?" Darcy questioned viciously. "Planning your next biggest fiasco? Well, we won't let it happen." Loki's reflection from the mirror was gone. Darcy flicked her head around to see the god standing before her. Without hesitation her finger pulled on the trigger, but the projectile went straight the Loki projection. From her right the taser was yanked out of her hand. She jumped backwards at the sight of Loki.

His armor had melted down into black business pants and vest. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up partially over his forearm. He had a red tie was a striking contrast. Loki carelessly tossed the gun to the side as he sized himself up against Darcy. To his surprise she threw out a punch, but he quickly caught it. Using the momentum, he twisted her arm, bringing Darcy down to her knees. Loki could hear Jane squeal. He quickly let go before retreating to the cluttered room. "I am not here for malevolent reasons, ladies," he clarified. "Your work is crucial to me. I want you to succeed. The less disturbances you have, the better you work."

"So that's why I have no bars here," Darcy complained. She was holding her wrist, careful not to squeeze too tightly and cause further injury to the sprain. "Explains the interference we have had. Here Coulson wanted to blame it on our—"

"Yes, that is why," Loki interrupted. Her nasally voice was getting to him and causing the left hemisphere of his brain to ache. Everything about Darcy felt like sand paper to him. "As to why I want you to succeed should be no surprise. As you know from our previous conversation, I have a wife. I wish to return to her; however, certain circumstances make that impossible with out my br—Thor." His green eyes came to rest on the bracelet that dangled from his right wrist. "You are not the only one waiting on someone, Jane Foster," he assured. There was sadness to his voice that perked her attention. She noticed the slightest bit that his eyes glimmered a bit more. "So it is to our best interests to work together."

"You friggin' threatened her," Darcy reminded brutally.

"I'm protective of my wife," he countered quickly. Loki leaned over the table, looking at Darcy as if she were but an ant about to be squished beneath his foot. "She's been through enough; more than what she should've endured in the first place." Loki couldn't control the raw hurt and protectiveness in his voice. He felt as if someone were pulling on the strings in his throat to make it tight.

Darcy turned to Jane, whom was looking at Loki. Her stomach was rolling around in her gut like a dog in the mud. "You tried to kill Thor," Jane stated. She felt her heart skip a beat as the image of Thor lying on the pavement came rushing to the front of her head. "And now you need him. It seems a bit ironic." Jane turned her back to Loki as she began to walk to the door. "Get out of lab and don't return. If I catch you spying on us again I'll call the agents to come and kill you." With that, she left the room with her stomach in knots and her heart being dangled above a pool of hungry sharks.

Darcy watched as Jane left. She turned her head to see Loki holding his head in what looked to be defeat. She could see a tear fall onto the paper below him. Slowly she gathered herself. Half of her body was jerking her towards the door while another bit was inching closer to Loki. "Look she's just—are you okay?" Darcy inquired bluntly.

He jerked his head up. His eyes were red from the pain of the tears being brought to the surface again. "No, I'm not!" Loki yelled, half of it coming out as a sad yelp. "I'm a royal fuck up! I am hated by my family, exiled for an eternity by every realm outside of this one, and have nothing left! Nothing! The one person in all of the nine realms who may still lov—accept me after every fucking mistake I've done, lies in the hands of a couple of humans and Thor! I may never see—" Loki's voice died there. His throat was closed off as the old wounds began to bleed again. With a trembling hand he held his forehead. The outside of him, the trembling hands and vulnerable position, barely scratched the surface of the chaos brewing within him. He felt as if any moment he would explode from the chaos. The pressure … it just never seemed to stop.

Darcy, scared by the volatile rise in his voice, backed towards the door; however, she did not dare turn her back on him. She gripped the metal handle of the semi-transparent door. Then reaching to her pocket, Darcy pulled out her prescription bottle. Carefully she set it down. "You should take a few. It'll make you feel better," she muttered. With that, she left the room, but her mind continued to flutter back to the image of Loki hunched over the table like an unwanted animal in pain.