XX

Loki bolted upright with a soft scream, gasping for air and shaking hard. He was shocked to see that he was still in the bedroom he shared with Sherlock, and even more so to see his beloved mortal fast asleep beside him, their dragon, Elsa, tucked into his arm. Unlike her human heating pad, she was wide awake, watching the panting god with icy concern. The Trickster gave her a weak smile in an attempt to reassure his pet. "Just a nightmare, little one. Go back to sleep." Elsa snorted at him, clearly unconvinced, but tucked herself back into Sherlock.

The shaken mischief god tried to brush the sweaty tendrils of hair from his eyes with no success. He had been lying of course. What he had woken from was far more vivid than any dream or nightmare he had ever suffered. It had been a terrible, terrible memory… He tossed another glance at the sleeping detective, still nervous that he wasn't actually there. That the memory had been reality and Sherlock was an intangible dream. He ran a hand tenderly through his Sherlock's hair, releasing the relieved breath he had not realized he held.

Loki carefully climbed out of bed, knowing no quiet activity was going to calm him down this time. And Sherlock looked so peaceful and handsome… He had no desire to wake him. This didn't stop him from stealing a kiss before tiptoeing out of the room.

Once safely in the living room, Loki allowed himself to collapse into the couch, his controlled trembling releasing into full body quaking. He flipped onto his stomach, trying to ease the crisscrossing burn beginning to flare in his back. He had to give Thanos credit. However the Mad Titan had managed to turn the Trickster's magic against him into his scars had been clever. Every lash of the whip, every drag of a knife through his skin was felt anew every time the night horrors crept into his slumber. Thus far, he had not been able to find a counter curse for it.

Strangely enough, it wasn't the physical pain that tormented him the most. No, cries of pain were never enough for Thanos. He had to the very heart and mind to shreds as well. Loki dug his fingers into his scalp as if the pressure would drive away the bloody, broken image of Sherlock's corpse from his mind. Or cool the searing guilt that he had allowed this tragedy to occur in his heart. "Sentiment…" he muttered under a trembling breath. Not that it did much against the image in his mind. Even so, he repeated the single word over and over again, trying to steal back control of his inner demons. "Sentiment… Sentiment…" Each denial was punctuated by a new tear stain on the couch.

Sherlock frowned in his half-awake state, tugging up his blanket that seemed to be trying to crawl away. He wasn't quite sure what had woken him up. It could have been the fight he was currently having with his blanket or the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The blanket growled at him so he growled back.

"Elsa… I'm trying to sleep…" But the little dragon only tugged harder, growling louder. "Dammit, Elsa…" He finally managed to tug the blanket away from her, but this did not deter the little beast. Elsa crawled her way up onto the bed, wasting no time in pouncing onto the unsuspecting detective hard. "OUCH! What the hell, El-" But the distinct lack of his fiancé's overlapping snarky anger stopped him mid-jolt.

Sure enough there was an obvious Loki-shaped space in the bed beside him. Sherlock frowned as he ran a hand over the slightly chilled sheets. A vacant space on the bed was never a good sign with the recovering god of mischief. While of his physical wounds had finally healed several weeks ago, Sherlock knew for a fact the psychological damage did not heal so fast. Especially for an immortal who often considered seeking aid for such things as a sign of weakness.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately for a deity suffering from a form of PTSD), Sherlock still did not handle others' emotions very well. As much as he actually wanted to help Loki heal, he knew his scientific approach would not help matters at all. He certainly wasn't that oblivious about other people. Luckily, he knew someone who could advise him.

Elsa paced at the door, whining worriedly, as Sherlock quickly dialed the familiar number into his phone. He began to pace himself in time with the dial tone. "Christ, Sherlock. Its 2 AM, can't this wait-"

"Loki's having nightmares again." If John had anymore protests to the call, he didn't say it. Instead, Sherlock hear the rustling of blankets which indicated the veteran soldier was climbing out of bed. "And I don't know what to do…"

"Well, you could try waking him up."

"He's already awake. I think he's having a panic attack in the living room."

"Sherlock, I'm not sure I'm best qualified for this. I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist."

"But you've been in a similar spot. Haven't you?" John released an exasperated sigh into Sherlock's ear.

"Not exactly, Sherlock. He's not having memories of war. I doubt war would even do this to a warrior race. He was actually tortured in ways I doubt even he could have conceived. What helps me would not necessarily help him. Hell, what helps any human probably won't help him. Besides, I don't have actual panic attacks, you know that." Sherlock flinched as Loki let out a strangled cry.

"John, please… I… I don't know who else to call so late."

"Oh, wow. Can I get that in writing?"

"Not the time, John." Sherlock was becoming more and more tempted to just hang up and consult the internet. "I'm being serious."

"Look, Sherlock… there's not much I can tell you… the best you can really do is be there for him if he needs or wants you."

"I could have gotten that answer online."

"I told you. This is not my area of expertise. If you think you can calm him without pissing him off then do it. Otherwise, just try to keep him from hurting himself. Or others for that matter." Sherlock rolled his eyes as he hung up, muttering under his breath about how useless that had been. Elsa began to tug on his pant leg, growing more urgent in her concern.

"Relax, you annoying lizard. I'm coming." Not that he had any idea how he planned to calm Loki down.

This was not the first time Loki had suffered a panic attack induced by whatever memories haunted him. While Sherlock originally believed it was from his captivity about a year or so back, he was starting to believe there was more to the situation that he already knew about. Of course, he also still had no complete idea of what had happened while Loki was in captivity. The God of Mischief was unusually mum about his time there. Sherlock only managed to connect a being named Thanos to the ordeal thank to Loki muttering terrified in his sleep on occasion. Usually, whenever he thought he felt a panic coming on, Loki would simply lock himself in their room and place a spell or curse on the door to ensure no one would bother him, aiding Sherlock's uncertainty of how to help his fiancé.

A crash in the living room brought Sherlock's attention back to the present. "Dammit! Loki!" Elsa let out a pained grunt as Sherlock accidentally kicked her aside in his haste to find Loki. The last thing the god needed was guilt over destroying the flat in his fit of fear. "Loki?! Loki, are you-" Strangely enough, it wasn't the overturned coffee table that derailed Sherlock's train of thought.

What stopped Sherlock in his tracks was the otherworldly blue glare he was receiving from the mantle mirror. While Loki's eyes did have an interesting talent for switching from emerald green to ice blue in certain light or mood, this was not a typical shade of theirs. The detective had only seen that sickly shade of blue in SHIELD's files on the Battle of New York… in the eyes of those under the scepter's control. How it was possible for Loki's eyes to be that color when as far as any of the records were aware the Trickster had been acting of his own will in that battle, Sherlock wasn't quite sure he wanted to deduce. Unless there was something else the god hadn't told anyone. "Loki?"

"Go back to bed, Mortal." Sherlock's eyebrow quirked up at the growl in his fiancé's voice. "This does not concern you."

"On the contrary. I'm fairly certain that ring on your finger makes it concern me." It was probably unwise to patronize the god in his current state, but Sherlock wasn't quite sure what wouldn't anger him right now. "What's wrong?" Loki scoffed, turning to face him.

"Nothing you could possibly comprehend much less aid me in." The agitated god began to pace the room, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's gaze. Sherlock made sure to not break eye contact either despite the disturbing sense of being stalked crawling down his spine. Whoever was standing before him now was not the same Loki he was currently engaged to.

"Try me." Loki opened his mouth to no doubt insult Sherlock but he interrupted," You know I'm not like other mortals. I could help."

"Like Hel, you could, you fool. You might be smarter than the others but you are certainly no wiser or less foolish." Loki's eyes flickered from the sickly blue to his healthy emerald green so fast the detective though he was seeing things. But it happened again and the god looked away, rubbing his eyes as if he felt the change. This only made things more complicated as Sherlock now suspected his lover wasn't actually aware of what he was doing. This suspicion only reaffirmed the mortal's dislike for magic that wasn't Loki's.

"Just try me."

"'Try you?' Is that a joke?" He began to stalk towards the mortal sleuth. "I could easily snap you in two you're so fragile. It's a wonder…" Loki threaded a hand into Sherlock's hair so gently he thought the god had come to his senses until he yanked the mortal's head back roughly. This caused a pained grunt from Sherlock as Loki continued "I haven't done it yet. A fitting punishment for keeping me prisoner on this forsaken rock."

"No one… is keeping you prisoner…" Sherlock gritted out. The genius decided John's advice was definitely useless in this situation. This may have originally been a nightmare induced panic attack but it had apparently evolved into the god's mind somehow being possessed. He suspected a third party was involved with whatever was currently happening to his fiancé. "You've been free to leave since – ah! – SHIELD fell." A strange look of confusion and emerald green flickered through Loki's eyes.

"What trick is this?"

"No tricks," Sherlock gritted out, making a mental note of where in the couch he had a gun hidden. He had no intention of shooting Loki if he could help it, but it would hopefully give him just enough extra weight to render the god unconscious. "You're not my prisoner… You never were…" The flickering in Loki's eyes began to speed up as the words seemed to sink in. As a precaution, Sherlock still inched his hand towards the hidden hand gun. "Let's just talk about this."

"While you reach for a weapon?" The god snarled, grabbing the mortal's wrist. "Do you take me for a fool, Mortal?" Sherlock tried to bite back a groan as Loki began to squeeze down on his wrist. "You really think you could kill me so easily?"

"Wasn't planning on killing you." Loki's eyebrow rose at that, clearly unconvinced. "But you're not acting like yourself and I do plan to end that." This elicited a cruel laugh from the mischief god.

"Perhaps you're just seeing the true God of Mischief for the first time. Not the sniveling housewife you've reduced me to."

If that's what he calls a housewife… "Believe it or not, I'm not as blind as you consider most Midgardians to be. Whoever this arsehole is, he's not the real you and you know it."

"You sound like Thor."

"Well for once, he's not wrong. I haven't changed anything about you. I wouldn't want to." Loki's grip on Sherlock's hair and wrist lessened, allowing him to somewhat wriggle his way loose. Tender and gentle was not typically Sherlock's modus operandi, but if it yanked his god of mischief out of whatever nightmare he was trapped in… "Loki…" He gently cupped a hand around his lover's cheek, which seemed to make the strange flickering in Loki's eyes intensify. "I think you're still trapped in your nightmare… It's time to wake up…"

For a brief moment Sherlock believed his tender method was actually working. Loki's eyes settled on that gorgeous emerald and stayed there, one hand shakily making its way to clasp Sherlock's. "Sherlock…" Loki muttered so softly he probably wouldn't have heard it were the god not standing in front of him.

The next moment, however, Loki's face contorted back into a snarl and Sherlock was thrown across the flat. Over his and the wall's groan, Sherlock heard the god hiss, "Sentiment…" as he began to stalk towards the battered mortal. The detective had a distinct feeling he was in for a long night…