Wowie, I admit I definitely wasn't expecting the reactions that I got from the last chapter. Looking back, though, I should have realized...Anyway, I just wanted to accredit (because I constantly forget to add author notes in their appropriate chapter) my sister and history itself to certain points of the previous chapter.

Also, there's a section that I admit I was heavily influenced by the writing format of Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. I know that I ought not to heavily emulate the styles of other writers, but it just...worked so well this way, so I accredit Foer as well. With that done, I'll say, onward! This chapter isn't as graphic, worry not.

"Loki?"

Thor rapped the door with his knuckles. It wasn't that he was expecting Loki to give Thor any consent to come in, whether he wanted to give it or not, but he didn't want to catch Loki by surprise. He didn't hear anything thrown against the door, so he reckoned it was all right to enter.

He gently pushed the door open, peeping inside the medical room. Loki was still lying on the bed, his left arm encased in a heavy cast and a bandage around his neck. He looked famished, his large eyes too big for his too thin face. Said eyes were glued to Thor, hardened like green glass. Thor gave a soft sigh before stepping into the room. Loki moved to sit up immediately but his strength failed him and he collapsed on his side.

"Please—please rest, brother," said Thor. He set the tray of food aside on a table and sat on a stool next to Loki.

Loki glared at Thor, his jaw set and stiff as he edged away from him.

"Are you in pain?" said Thor.

Loki's bottom jaw twitched with irritation, but he neither confirmed nor denied it.

Thor reached out to brush a loose strand of black hair from Loki's face. With his good hand, Loki immediately hit Thor's hand away, his eyes wide with indignation. Thor sucked in a sharp intake of breath.

"I'm not going to hurt you," said Thor. "I would never hurt you, brother."

Loki sneered and looked away, his hand still poised as if ready to strike Thor should Thor try anything else.

"Dr. Banner has told me you haven't been sleeping," said Thor. The shadows under Loki's eyes were a screaming sign of proof, contrasting with Loki's too pale skin.

Loki pressed his lips together but continued forcing his gaze on an invisible point on the ceiling.

"He does not want to give you Midgardian medicine to aid your sleep," said Thor, hoping to catch Loki into small talk, albeit one-sided. "He fears it might disrupt your healing process."

It nearly frightened him that he could barely hear Loki even breathe. Had it not been for the delicate rising of his chest, Thor would have thought Loki a reanimated corpse.

"Will you…will you speak to me, brother?"

A flash passed in Loki's eyes and he turned his head away from Thor. Thor immediately wished he had not said a thing; as collected as Loki played off to be, Thor could see his fists tremble under the sheets and how Loki held his breath as if waiting in fear.

"Nothing here will hurt you, Loki," said Thor, reaching out to put a hand on Loki's shoulder. "You're safe here. I swear I will protect you. You are safe."

His fingers just skimmed Loki's thin shoulder and Loki immediately jerked away. The sudden movement must have torn something in him because he winced and couldn't move away. He gritted his teeth, his breathing becoming labored.

"I'm sorry," Thor said. He withdrew his hand, numbed. "I'm sorry, Loki. For everything."

Loki turned to face Thor with narrowed eyes that said I don't need you. I never needed you.

Thor bit down on the inside of his cheek. Loki would be dead if Thor hadn't come; did he not realize that? Would he not let himself receive help from his older brother at least once?

(Not brother, Loki would say. Never a brother.)

(Then what is a brother to you?)

(A myth. Phantom faces beneath my eyelids.)

(There too live my phantoms.)

(And what is that?)

(Where you are gone. To see you nevermore.)

When Loki faced the ceiling again, Thor quietly reached to the table toward the tray he had brought in. A bowl of broth was set upon it, simple enough for Loki. Bruce had told Thor that by the looks of it, Loki hadn't any signs that he had eaten anything substantial for an alarming amount of time, and that his body might not accept food easily at first. Thor reckoned Loki hadn't eaten properly since he fell from the Bifröst. The thought made him ache terribly.

"Loki, please try to eat something," he said, offering the bowl. "You will regain your strength this way, and heal more quickly."

Loki glanced at the steaming bowl from the corner of his eyes. However, instead of any sign of hunger or desire, his eyes widened with raw and inexplicable fear. He pushed himself into a painful sitting position, his small back pressed against the headboard of the bed as he stared at the bowl of soup, trembling.

"Loki?" said Thor, withdrawing the soup slightly. "Don't you…will you not eat?"

Like a farmer trying to goad a wild animal, Thor brought the soup a little closer to Loki. Loki immediately pushed himself further, his mouth pressed into a thin line as if to bar anything from entering. His arms were shaking as he pulled himself away from Thor, his breathing quickening with panic.

"Loki, what is the matter?" said Thor. In the back of his mind, he was frantically grasping at straws. What was wrong with Loki? Should he call Banner? What was going on?

Before Thor could react, Loki shoved the bowl of soup away. The hot liquid splattered over the bed covers and Thor's pants, sticking to his skin like vomit. Loki lost his balance, having backed away from Thor too much and toppled over the edge of the bed. Thor immediately shot out of his seat and darted toward his fallen brother. Loki was a tangle of limbs on the floor, fresh blood seeping through the bandages and clothes as his many wounds reopened. He tried to push himself onto his knees, but his thin arms shook too much to keep him steady.

"Loki—Loki—" Thor bent down to try to help Loki up, but Loki backed away from Thor, hitting his back against the nightstand and wincing at the impact. His eyes were wet with furious fear, like a dagger of ice darting toward Thor. "Loki, I'm not going to hurt you. Please trust me. You're safe. Nothing is going to harm you."

Lies, said Loki's eyes. His blood dripped from underneath his shirt and onto the floor. Lies.

The door swung open with a bang and Thor spun around immediately. Bruce was at the doorway, his brown eyes taking in the gruesome sight of Loki bleeding on the floor, disheveled and frenetic like a wounded wolf, with Thor crouched and kept at a distance even though all he wanted was to rush to his brother and hold him. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his professionalism calmed his nerves, and that of the Hulk's.

"Doctor," said Thor, his voice quivering ever so slightly. "Doctor, I don't—I tried to give him food, but—"

"It's all right, Thor," Bruce said, carefully making his way to Loki. Loki stiffened when Bruce towered over him, and Bruce promptly bent down to eye level.

"Loki," said Bruce. "Do you remember me?"

A twitch of the jaw, an almost-smirk. Somewhere in Bruce, the Hulk grunted with satisfaction.

"I'm here to help you," said Bruce, holding out his hands. "I treated your wounds earlier, if you remember."

He edged a little closer to Loki. Loki jerked, pressing closer against the nightstand as if hoping to melt into the wood and through the plaster wall to disappear from the headquarters. His hands trembled and Thor had to fight down the ache inside of him at the sight of his breaking brother.

"Your body is really weak," said Bruce. "It needs food. Uh—it needs nutrients to keep it alive and healthy. If you eat, you'll be able to heal better. Faster, too. Then you can get out of this place faster."

Loki sat up a little straighter at Bruce's promise, his eyes boring into Bruce's face as if searching for a lie in that statement. Bruce licked his lips nervously before plunging on.

"We're not here to hurt you. We aren't the Chitauri—" Loki gritted his teeth at the word. "—and we don't do torture here. That's not a Midgardian thing to do. We're doing these things for you not because we want something out of you, but because—well—it's the right thing to do. And you're Thor's brother. We help our friends here."

Loki grimaced at his impromptu title and turned his head away. Bruce gave a look of sheepish apology to Thor, who was torn between hurt and frustration. After all they had been through, why must he now shove Thor away so vehemently?

"So—are you hungry?" Bruce said. "I uh, I think there's still some applesauce on that tray. Is there, Thor?"

"There is, Doctor," Thor said, waiting with baited breath as he couldn't take his eyes off of Loki. He slowly rose to his feet and retrieved the small ceramic bowl of pale applesauce from the tray, cupping it carefully in his hands as if afraid to break it, and brought it back to Bruce.

"It's food. Edible," said Bruce, taking the applesauce from Thor. He offered it to Loki, whose shoulders tensed at the sudden movement. "It's good for you. You eat, you get better, you go back home faster. Don't you want that?"

Loki swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing on his slim neck. Bruce gestured for Loki to take it, but Loki refused to touch it.

"Does he think it is poisoned?" said Thor.

"It isn't poisoned, Loki," said Bruce. "Here…Thor, take a bite."

"What?" said Thor. "This food is for Loki."

"I know," said Bruce. "But if he thinks it'll hurt him and he sees that it doesn't hurt you if you try it, then it ought to prove something to him. I doubt if I did it that it would make a difference to him. He probably knows the other guy's kind of watching out for me, you know?"

Loki raised his eyebrows in a mild gesture at Bruce, as if to say he was impressed of his thinking. Bruce shifted uncomfortably in Loki's gaze and cleared his throat. Thor pursed his lips but relented, taking a small spoonful of applesauce. He made show of chewing and swallowing before putting it into Loki's uninjured hand. Loki's look of humor when Thor was eating immediately sapped away.

"We aren't going to make you do anything for eating," said Bruce. "We just want you to…eat. That's all."

Thor's anger toward the Chitauri suddenly flared at Bruce's word. Had the aliens forced Loki to endure pain and shame just to have a morsel? It took precious self-control for him not to bunch his hands into a fist in indignation.

"Get me some bandages and dressing while he eats, won't you, Thor?" said Bruce. "We need to fix those wounds again…he went off and split them."

"Of course." Thor backed away toward the cabinet of medical supplies as Loki tentatively lifted the spoon of applesauce to his lips. He scoured the shelves for the material to stitch and clean wounds and a roll of bandages. Just as he reached for the bottle of what he believed was rubbing alcohol, there was a clatter that rang out behind him.

"Shoot," said Bruce. "Okay—okay—"

Thor spun around and all the medical supplies he gathered in his arms fell to the ground. He was immediately at Loki's side as Loki doubled over, heaving dryly and clutching his midsection. The barely touched applesauce was splattered all over the floor about him.

"Thor, don't—you might hurt him," Bruce said, climbing onto his feet immediately.

"What is happening to him?" said Thor, putting a hand on Loki's trembling back. Loki felt so cold under his touch.

"Refeeding syndrome gone drastic," Bruce said. "Dammit—I knew I should have tried milk first, or something. Applesauce and soup is too much for him."

"What do you mean?" said Thor.

"His body's been deprived of nutrients for far too long. It's causing him to react badly to food. Dammit—call the other medics, he's bleeding out and he's probably going to vomit and that's not good."

As if on cue, Loki retched on the floor. He clutched himself protectively as if cold, sour vomit spilling from his lips. Thor pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around Loki's cold figure. For a moment he felt a sudden twinge of anger toward Bruce, thinking that Loki's plight was his blame. The guilt for those sentiments followed loyally, but Thor couldn't help but feel shaken.

"Thor, hurry," said Bruce. "He needs help fast. Make them bring an IV with them as well."

Thor had no idea what was so special about this ivy Bruce so desperately called for, but he dashed out of the room, bellowing for anyone to come help Loki. A team was immediately assembled with a drip already prepared and they crowded Loki's room, carefully pulling Loki back onto the bed. The moment they came close to him Loki began to panic, thrashing away from their grasps and upsetting his dire wounds even more.

"Someone calm him down!" said Bruce. "Thor, can you do it?"

Thor wished he could, but he knew deep down that Loki would be even more disturbed by him. Nevertheless, he hesitantly stepped forward to take Loki's hand. "Loki, it'll be all right, they're here to help you—"

Loki wrenched his hand away from Thor's. In a brisk moment he slammed it against a nearby medic's nose; it gave an ominous crack and poured blood down her front.

"Restrain him!" a medic said. "Put him in some sort of bind—we can't work with him this way."

"No!" Thor said. "He has been in binds and chains for too long, it will only upset him further."

"Should we sedate him again?" one said.

"If we keep pumping that stuff into him, it'll hurt him in the long run," said Bruce.

Thor tried to put a comforting hand upon Loki once more. Loki's face twisted into a silent snarl and he struck at the nearest person. His fist collided with the side of a medic's head and completely knocked him off his feet.

"Thor, I have to ask you to leave," Bruce said over the confusing flurry.

"I cannot leave him when he is so distressed," Thor said.

"I'm sorry, but—you're making it worse for him," said Bruce. The words pierced Thor, even when they were from the kind doctor. "Don't take it the wrong way but—he won't calm down when you're around."

"I-I understand," Thor said, his voice so brittle and soft that none could hear him. They all nudged Thor away from the bed, busying themselves with trying to calm Loki with needles and medicine while fixing the long clear tube into his arm and sewing his wounds shut. Thor felt the numbing, swelling feeling of uselessness inside his stomach as he backed away, unable to join the team that was doing all they could to help Loki.

(Loki, let me help you, why won't you let me help you?)

He watched Loki sink into the pillow, his eyes glassy as the tranquilizer infected his body. The medics crowded around the bed until Loki was out of view, building themselves a wall on top of him until Thor couldn't see him, much less hear or touch him.

(Loki, just talk to me, speak to me, I want to help but you must talk to me and I don't know what to do)

But wasn't it Thor's fault that Loki had been agonized?

Wasn't it Thor's fault that Loki couldn't even speak?

He fled the room, shame at his heels.

"Does it want to eat?"

Stop. Please. Don't come closer.

"Does it starve like a rat?"

He could see the bones in his hands quiver. Don't speak. They will think you weak. Your voice is weakness. Don't speak.

A coarse hand gripped his sharp elbow. He could see the nails digging into his skin, but he couldn't feel them pierce. Hunger had made him numb.

"What is it willing to pay this time?"

He closed his eyes. His head spun as if knocked into the galaxy. He imagined his stomach eating his heart. He saw himself ironed flat, drilling holes through his skin to release the air.

"A pretty little trick? Fanciful words?"

He couldn't stop shaking. He was so tired.

"We shan't waste our good food on this mongrel today. Perhaps next year."

They cackled and left him alone in the empty crater. The clothes on his skin were like blankets. He couldn't move underneath them. Pain and hunger paralyzed him. He heard once that dying of hunger brought elation to the victim. He waited for it desperately. He had forgotten what that felt like.

He didn't know how much time passed before he heard footsteps crack the dust above him. He barely had the strength to open his eyes, wondering if someone had come to end his trial. It was a tall, dark figure of a Chitauri warrior-unrecognizable, he was probably from a different division than the one that kept him. Loki let out a sigh, waiting for the blow, the coarse words, the punishment.

The warrior crouched beside him. Loki couldn't see its face, nor could he tell if it even had one. It spoke, but not in a language Loki could comprehend. Loki shook his head, showing that he did not understand. He did not wish to understand. The warrior closed its mouth and remained as silent as Loki.

It reached behind it and pulled at a rough burlap sack. It dug its hand into the pouch and pulled out a dark purple object Loki couldn't recognize. It had the texture of bread, but Loki had long forgotten the look of typical foodstuff. It held it out to Loki, the smell of the loaf wafting under Loki's nose. It smelled like nothing Loki ever came across before, neither edible nor inedible. The warrior waited for Loki to take it, but Loki was far too weak to move. He could only let his head fall back and try to breathe.

Undaunted, the warrior stiffly pulled open Loki's mouth and inserted a pinch of the bread. Loki let it melt on his tongue, not the least bit afraid if it was poisoned or if there was a package deal to accepting the food. He didn't even have the strength to spit it out if he wanted to. He let it slide down his throat and he let out a sigh. The bite was small, but more than anything he had ever taken in for what felt like several decades. The warrior inserted another piece into Loki's mouth, and another, and another, until Loki couldn't take anymore.

Loki raised his eyes to the unexpected Samaritan, a whisper of a cross between thanks and a looming question resting upon his lips. The warrior did not give an answer; instead, it rose to its feet, lifted the empty sack from the ground, and walked away. No sound, no explanation, not even a name, if it had one. It blended into the darkness of space, and had it not been for the feeling of food in his stomach Loki would have suspected it all to be a hallucination.

Maybe it was poisoned, and he would be wracked with pain in several minutes. Loki could only sleep now, and wait.

When he roused, he heard laughter. He heard shouts that were both angry and full of mirth. He heard the sound of ripping and cracking and a single scream.

Something fell beside him in his crater and he turned his head. A decapitated head with its mouth bashed in and its eyes empty stared back at him.

Here, Loki saw its face for the first time.

The Chitauri threw in the rest of its limbs into the crater, laughing something he didn't understand. Somewhere deep inside, Loki wondered if the warrior had a name. He wondered if now they would force him to eat the flesh.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Tried to forget.