Control (Ship of Nails: Part 1)

[coldsong]

In the days after Harley’s ordeal with the Joker, Loki is hard to live with. He was terrified of losing her, of course, and he’s given up trying to pretend otherwise. But that is an emotion so big and overwhelming he can’t cope with it on top of everything else in his head. The past pushes aside the present and the potential of the future, love crushed beneath the weight of something dark and sickly.
There was a wound in his mind still, from what Thanos did to him. He’s known that all along, known it was festering, and there were times he tried to express that, but for the most part, he failed.



Maybe he didn’t want to succeed. Maybe he wanted to keep suffering, somewhere deep down. He doesn’t believe in atonement or penance or forgiveness, but he does believe in vengeance.

Now the frail scab of functional behavior he’s built over the wound has broken, been split and torn away, and all the necrosis, corruption, infection it held back, has spilled free. It’s drowning him. He wants to hurt and be hurt again and again and again...

He pays Mrs. Hedgeworthy extra to stay overnight. He’s afraid to be alone with the children.

He’s afraid to be alone with the children.

Brushing out Sigrid’s hair before bedtime, he’s always so delicate, untangling elf-knots without pulling, and she trust him utterly, but when he looks into the mirror of her vanity, her face is going grey, eyes bulging, mouth gaping; her hair is tangled around her throat and he’s pulling it tight, tighter, tighter, grinning a slasher smile as she struggles--

No, no, no! He springs up and backs away so wildly he falls over one of her shoes left behind on the floor.

“Loki??” She’s fine. She is untouched, he was hallucinating, but now she looks horrified by his unexplained panic. “Loki, what’s wrong?”

Mrs. Hedgeworthy appears in the doorway in a fuzzy yellow bathrobe with a duckling print all over it. Her eyes are sharp as she looks him over. He feels like prey, pinned down, seen through. He feels like a predator, ready to spring and snap and break necks. It’s too much. His stomach heaves and he has to cover his face with both hands, fighting back the need to vomit.

For a moment he’s not there, ears ringing, vision gone, and when he becomes aware of the room around him again, Sigrid and Agnarr are both there, with Mrs. Hedgeworthy, all standing around him with wide, frightened eyes.

“...call Thor,” Sigrid is saying, words rapid-fire, anxious. “Or maybe Kelly's dad, or Harley but she’s sick, or the other Loki, the one with the bar--”

“No!” He grits out. “No. Not now. Nighttime. Call in the morning.” He gulps air, pulls himself back together so forcibly his teeth rattle. “Mrs. Hedgeworthy, if you would please get the children ready for bed, I--th-think I will take a bath.”

As if water could wash him clean of the Black Order.

He rises, shaking head to toe but able to walk the few steps down the hall to the bathroom. He closes the door, locks it, turns the water on in the shower as high and hard as it will run, then puts his back to the wall and curls up in the smallest knot he can.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, insensate. Eventually he becomes aware his back is against the full-length mirror on the bathroom wall, and he turns his head to look at himself, fearful of what he’ll find.

Did you think you could quiet me forever? The figure in the mirror asks softly. Ivory skin, inky hair, green and gold armor, it regards Loki with a mocking smile, peering from beneath a twin-horned helmet. But his eyes-his eyes are very, very blue. Scepter-blue.

There’s no point talking to a hallucinatory vision of himself. Loki doesn’t bother. Just stares into the glowing cyan of his reflection’s eyes and waits to hear what it wants. After a long moment, its confidence wavers; its smile fades.

Say something! it snarls at last, frustrated.

“Something,” he answers. And then, “Go away.”

It’s just like himself to want to have a moment, here, he thinks. Give a grandiose speech about the inescapability of one’s dark nature, utter a breathless ode to the Mind Stone, perhaps. The only voice from the dark that ever truly understood him.

(The Mind Stone's voice in his head was always female, exquisitely soft and sweet, a music he could not ignore or deny. It's all right, Loki, my sweet little Loki--nothing matters. Freedom is life's great lie.

But he is the god of lies, and that is the only thing that saved him.)

But maybe Loki is learning from Thor. He’s not willing to play along. He lies where he is, dull eyed, watching his doppelganger, his anti-conscience. No protestations that this is not him, that he’s changed. Just: “Go away. Leave the children alone.”

Oh. Your children should remain untouched, it says. How many did you slay with the Order? How many deaths have you held a candle to?

He knows the answer, or at least a rough estimate, but he won’t give himself the satisfaction of saying it.

Your greed for peace and comfort will tear apart the people you purport to love. And after they are dead and gone, you will forget them. You have no heart. You only have me. Get used to it.

He doesn’t think that’s true, but he can’t muster the strength to argue. Remembering Thor throwing objects through his illusionary bodies, he gives a quiet grunt, lifts his hand, and touches it to the mirror’s surface. The steam collecting there from the hot shower suddenly starts to condense, coalesce, slithers between the glass and the silver backing, and the whole thing cracks and shatters, cascading down upon him in a glimmering shower.

A few seconds later, Mrs. Hedgeworthy is pounding on the door. He doesn’t feel like answering.

She’ll probably call someone.

He doesn’t care.


((OOC: Musical Inspiration))

Comments

[coldsong]

So many eyes on him, all cyan blue, so many piecemeal reflections of the worst of himself. Dagger and garrote, blood and ice and darkness. They're not eyes, they're stars, and he's falling, falling, falling until he loses awareness of his body, of time, of pain, numb and nothing in the blackness of the Void.

He's aware of the creak of floorboards, twitches and shudders as Thor kneels down, curling up tighter, but then something happens. The room tilts, shifts, and all the little shards of glass reflect not his own eyes but Thor's, the one that remains. A kinder shade of blue. Sunshine and clear skies after the end of the storm.

He swallows hard at the touch to his cheek and squeezes his eyes shut, clawing his way back from the edge. Thor's hand is callused and warm, and after a slow, still, excruciating moment, Loki shifts and puts his hand on Thor's forearm.

"Is Sigrid all right?" he asks in a rasping croak. "I thought...I was choking her--"

There's a sudden flicker of motion, then, as he sits up and rocks forward. In the next moment, he's buried himself against Thor's chest, trembling like a leaf in a high wind. When he sobs, it sounds like something's dragging the nose out of him and it's tearing up his insides on the way.

[pirateangelbaby]

Perhaps in hindsight, Thor should have suspected something like this might happen. Brothers they may be, but where Thor cannot help but wear his heart openly in joy and agony both, Loki has often kept his hurts from the light of day until at last there are too many to keep contained and it all comes boiling out in a spectacular eruption. But this is not anger or sorrow. No, this is something far, far worse.

He opens his mouth to assure Loki of Sigrid's safety when suddenly his brother lunges upward, and for the briefest of moments, Thor flinches as if he expects a blow. But then Loki is clinging to him as if he is a man drowning, and Thor's arms are around him, holding him safe and secure, wishing against all hope that he could take this horrible pain from him and knowing that he cannot, not any more than Loki could have taken Thor's.

"She's all right," he murmurs, one hand cradling the back of his brother's head, the other rubbing small soothing circles on his back, as if they were young boys again seeking comfort after a nightmare. "You didn't hurt her. She's safe."

CW mention of needles and much existential crisis.

[coldsong]

"I hurt--I--!!" Loki begins, but he's too overwrought to get the words out, choking on his own tears, dissolving into the acid mix of emotions. I hurt everyone else, why not them too? is the thought he would vocalize if he could. Perhaps it's for the best he cannot.

Loki has, despite all his best efforts, always been more inclined to physical tears than Thor. Nine times out of ten his eyes fill up and spill over with rage, not grief, but today only the Norns know where all the tears are coming from. They're cold, icy, dripping onto the shoulder of Thor's shirt, and the keening wails that accompany them are awful to hear. It's a breakdown that's been a long time coming, and all the more intense for the delay.

It takes several long minutes before the petting calms him enough to speak again, and his arms are locked around Thor now, an unbreakable death-grip. "He choked her and I thought she had died," he manages to get out, trying to explain, although Thor has no context whatsoever to know he's referring to Harley and the Joker now.

"Watched her die, and there are so many...needles in my skin down to the bones and I'm on fire, Thor, there's not enough ice in the universe for that burning, there is no balance. It's a lie. Gods are nothing but dust in the end, like everything else." He knows exactly what he's saying, exactly what he means, but whether any of that makes sense to Thor is doubtful.

[pirateangelbaby]

Every cry is like a dagger in his heart, a desperate frustration that he can do nothing to soothe this away, nothing but be someone willing to hold tight to Loki and not let go. There's a guilty pang at the thought that he is glad this did not happen sooner, uncertain if he is prepared to handle this even now but knowing in his heart that the Thor of six months ago would have been worse than useless here.

He's trying to understand, he really is, but it sounds like the fevered ramblings of a madman until the end. Then his own veins seem filled with ice as the specter of the Mad Titan looms over them both, and for a moment it's as if the universe was never set right, that he might return home to empty streets and empty planets and billions dead, and the need to drown himself in drink snares him as strongly as his brother's arms.

He just holds to Loki all the stronger, shakily reminding himself that Thanos is dead, that his universe is slowly recovering, scarred and damaged but not irreparable. But Loki's... Loki's is not.

He'd forgotten.

Too lost in his own pain to help anyone else, Thor hadn't noticed Loki still suffering, or perhaps he'd chosen to turn his blind eye to it to save himself from further madness. Maybe he'd hoped that the Avengers in every universe might find a way to restore the dusted, or he'd begun to fool himself into forgetting that there was ever a difference between this brother and the one that Thor had lost. It hadn't mattered, except it does, and now he reaps the blighted bounty of what he'd unwittingly sown.

"I know, brother, I know," he murmurs, knowing all the while that he doesn't, struggling to find the words that Loki might need to hear, desperate not to lose him too. He may not understand the roots of his brother's torment, but he stands now where Loki once stood, reaching out a hand to keep his brother from slipping into the abyss. "We're... we're not forever. But I'm here, now. I won't let you go."

[coldsong]

With all the things Loki might blame Thor for, justly or unjustly, the inability to comfort him in the midst of his own turmoil isn't even on the list. A man bleeding out from a cut to the heart is in no position to be a medic, and even Loki, with his talent for being selfish and greedy for attention, is aware of that. No word of blame will ever pass his lips on that count--although that in itself might make Thor feel worse.

The truth is, Loki makes himself as hard to comfort as he does hard to forgive. Maybe it's deliberate, a form of self-loathing or punishment of his own. Maybe he was taught too well to man up, when he was a boy, a youth, desperate to fit himself to standards ill-designed for him. Maybe he's afraid those closest to him will not find his companionship worth the burden of the sheer volume of maintenance he actually needs.

Probably all the above, but no matter what, it takes a meltdown of this caliber to make him truly vulnerable; he has to break to let someone try to heal him.

Thor's murmurs are ambiguous. He doesn't know in full detail what Loki means, but for whatever reason the sound of his words, low and gentle and affirming, sink under the younger brother's skin. Like the comforting coos of a mother holding a child after a nightmare. That robs the crisis in Loki's heart of some of its momentum; he remains a mess, shaky and weeping, but the anguished cries ease away into an occasional whimper or moan.

"He hurt me," he half-whispers, "hurt me so much. I can't shake it, Thor. I'm trying, for the children, for you, for Harley, for Ian, but it hurts, it hurts, it hurts...and if I lose, I...I can't lose. I can't."

Because if he does, he becomes that gutted, unfeeling, hollow psychopath in the mirror.

There's a soft tap on the door, and Loki twitches but otherwise doesn't move or loosen his hold on Thor. Mrs Hedgeworthy has a blanket in her hands, which she crouches to toss over Loki's back, then bustles past both Odinsons, picking her way through the glass to turn off the shower.

"I won't pretend I know what's going on," she says, "but you'd cope with it better on the sofa, or in his room." Pause. "The children are watching the Muppets and having brownies and warm milk. You just...sort yourselves out and let me know if I need to get someone else in here."

Loki gives a hiccuping, watery giggle, trying to turn his face so she can't see it, but says nothing.

[pirateangelbaby]

Thor tenses in turn at the sound of someone approaching, but relaxes - just a little - when he recognizes the intruder. Just Mrs. Hedgeworthy, who's far more put together than either one of the brothers at the moment. But she has a good point, and after a moment's hesitation, Thor nods. "Right."

Between the ice and the broken glass and the cold tile of the bathroom floor, this is no place for comfort. "Can you stand?" Thor murmurs to Loki, ready to help him to his feet or carry him entirely, if it comes to that. Whichever the case, he struggles to recall the layout of the house, remembering where he might take his brother where he can be warmer and more comfortable, and maybe clean some of the blood from him so he looks less of a fright. "You're safe with me," he repeats, more firmly, in case Loki might grab it as a lifeline to keep himself from sinking.

[coldsong]

There's a good chance Mrs. Hedgeworthy is always put together than either one of the brothers. She's got a past--she must, or Loki wouldn't like her--but she is reliable and steady in the extreme.

And right now, she's eyeing the mess on the bathroom floor with the resigned, dry annoyance of someone who knows she's going to end up cleaning it up, no matter what anyone else claims. Actually, the sooner she gets a jump on that, the better, so she hastens to help the both of them to their feet. The better to get them out from underfoot.

Loki gives a little grunt in response to Thor's question and loosens his grip on him just enough to gather his legs under him. "I can walk."

His breath, still hitching erratically, and the full body shakes he seems to have, put that claim to the lie, but he at least seems to be able to push himself off the floor. Probably a good thing; the doorway of the bathroom is narrow enough (built for mere mortals) that a Thor carrying a Loki might struggle to get through it. He's going to have to lean on his brother anyway, though, still visibly weakened. If either of them was in any state to notice and be amused by it, it's very much like the 'Get Help' routine.

[malcolmeffect]

Ian had dropped what he was doing when the text came in from the nanny, or he thought that is what she was. He wasn't sure. A normal person would react calmly to a text that someone was "sick". However, Ian knew well enough what that could mean from his own reluctance to say anything about his condition. It was one thing he and Loki shared to the point that it almost seemed a joke between them.

He'd had to find a sitter for Kelly, with how many times he'd taken Lex and Tim for their mother was easy enough, but then he's out the door. Dr. Malcolm would like to pretend he isn't worried for Loki, and the fact that he is only increases the anxiety over the situation.

Getting to the cottage turns into a blur. He'd been sleepless for so long that he's not in the best condition either, sick would be applicable but none of it was physical. A glance between the location he was given and the cottage to confirm it is the right one before he comes in the door. Normally, he was polite but under the kind of anxious panic he was prone to formality was forgotten.

"Loki?" He's not sure where until he hears the people in the hall. He's furious over the encumbrance of the his leg brace more than ever. All the frustration and exhaustion falls away when he enters the hall to see the condition Loki is in. Ian freezes, staring and distressed. It takes a moment for his mind to process. The response is instant, he drops his cane and leg brace be damned he starts down the hall to help.

[pirateangelbaby]

Right, there's a bedroom Thor remembers - not the same one the children are in, fortunately - and it's there that he plans to take Loki. It's a small relief that his brother is able to get to his feet, even if he's as shaky as a newborn colt and leaning most of his weight on Thor. They only get a few steps before he hears the voice.

An... oddly familiar voice.

Thor's head turns sharply to bring the newcomer into his field of view, not recognizing the man at first - a human, dressed all in dull black, some kind of brace on his leg and glasses on his face, all topped with a shock of dark hair. Nobody he's met, or so he thinks, until the stranger gets close enough for Thor to make out the features of his face. He'd only met the man once, face to face, but even without the gaudy clothes and silver hair, he would hardly forget the man who would've happily kept Thor enslaved until the end of his days.

"Grandmaster," Thor growls, shifting his weight so that he is between the stranger and Loki, too close to summon his lightning without harming Loki further. But he is not going to allow anyone to hurt his brother, no matter who he has to fight.

Mrs. Hedgeworthy had said she'd contacted another of Loki's friends, but she didn't say it was him. Something about this isn't right, yet Thor is taking no chances.

[coldsong]

Loki is just coherent enough to recognize the voice from the hallway over his own tapering sobs. Ian? Ian. How would he know to come--but of course, Mrs. Hedgeworthy must have called him as well as Thor. Sigrid said something about 'Kelly's dad'. When the man comes around the corner, Loki blinks at him from where he leans on Thor's shoulder, eyes hazy and wet and wide.

On the one hand, he's mortified. Of all the people he wouldn't want to catch him in the midst of a real breakdown--well, Ian isn't the last. There are others who'd he'd be more humiliated to have them see him like this, but early on in a relationship isn't the best time to display all of one's baggage in gory detail. On the other hand...he came to help at the slightest call, and moreover he's come in much like Thor did, bristling with reckless concern, making a beeline to reach the object of that concern with no pause to check who else is in the room. It's the kind of attitude Loki would have scolded Thor for in years past, actually, or even taken advantage of, but to see it turned to his benefit in not just his brother but in a friend-turning-lover is beyond reassuring.

There's a flicker of an uncertain little smile on his lips for a millisecond before Thor shifts his weight and moves his body in the other man's way, and then growls and Loki feels a jolt of wild adrenaline that has nothing to do with hallucinations and everything to do with potential for a very, very bad misunderstanding here.

"Human!" He stammers out, voice choked and high and strange with panic. "Thor, he's human! He's not the Grandmaster!"

Thor isn't prone, of late, to gratuitously attacking people, especially humans, and yet Loki wouldn't bet a fight couldn't start here. The Grandmaster could take a dozen hits and recover, given he purportedly can't die, but a mortal cannot. The last thing any of them needs to happen here is for a blow from Thor in protective mode to break any more of Ian's bones than are already damaged. And honestly, he's not sure Ian wouldn't try to fight back.

He yanks at Thor's shirt frantically to emphasize his stuttered protests. "Like Jim Kirk, and his father; not him, but you have the same face. This is Ian, he's mine."

Okay, were he in better control of his faculties, he might phrase that with some more finesse. He doesn't mean to imply he owns the man, but he falls squarely within Loki's providence, even if they weren't close and becoming closer.

Now, what Ian makes of all this--Loki clearly distressed, panicked, and covered with small cuts--remains to be seen.

CW: For mention of suicide

[malcolmeffect]

Of all the people who could see Loki in this state, Ian is likely to be the most understanding. More than once in the past year someone had pulled him up from the ground or stopped much worse. It takes all of his will to prevent a spiral into a damning internal dialog. The scene reminds him too much of his overdose, though which time he can't be sure. A brief flash of Sarah wrestling a gun from him at one of the devastating lows works its way into his mind while Malcolm desperately tries to blot it out.

Distress wins out in the emotional flood to drowned out the dark memories. Had Loki been trying to die? It is a question that lingers, even when he sees the faint smile. In the end, all that really shows to the outside is compassion and an exaggerated expression of Ian's typical anxiousness. There's no clarity in what their relationship is, but he cares far too much for Loki to do nothing. Perhaps, if he had the clarity of mind he would have remembered Loki calling him the Grandmaster the day they had met.

The mix of Loki's panicked pull at the person helping him, and the alert from the gifted bracelet gets ignored. Even Thor's presence doesn't cause him to halt or slow his hitched pace down the hall. Once you've faced a Tyrannosaur pounding toward you, more than once, everything else seems lesser. Grant had told him that he was foolishly heroic and Ian scoffed at the claim despite his continued behavior of throwing caution to the wind when anything mattered to him personally.

The sound of his name cracks into his determined foolishness. It wasn't the first time Loki had expressed a measure of belonging to him but it is enough that his eyes turn to Thor.

"Ian Malcolm." It's a brusk introduction when his gaze meets Thor's, but it shifts almost immediately back to Loki. He might not fight outright but Ian had the arrogance to ignore people or get surly with them when he didn't get his way.

[pirateangelbaby]

For a moment, Thor doesn't listen to Loki speaking, the words breaking against him like waves against boulders as he watches the stranger limp closer without the slightest hesitation or flicker of fear. There's a charge building in the air, a heavy static of a storm brewing in the distance, and outside the cottage a roll of thunder rumbles close enough to rattle the windows in their panes. Why did he leave Stormbreaker at the front door? It was forged to kill a Titan, but surely it might find the Grandmaster to be no challenging opponent.

It's only the frantic tugging on his shirt that draws his attention away long enough to actually hear the words, and a moment longer before he registers their meaning. Not the Grandmaster? Is Loki sure? The Nexus is a meeting place of many worlds and rife with coincidences - the medic with Skurge's face, Thor's own resemblance to Kirk's dead father - but he would not put it past the immortal to deceive Loki for his own amusement.

But... somehow he can't imagine the Grandmaster looking this concerned, this distressed, unless it was at the potential loss of one of his... playthings. And then perhaps only disappointment before he would throw them away and find some new poor creature to torment. That, of all things, is what makes Thor stay his hand even as the stranger gets within striking distance, though he stays wary and tense. He does not like this, but Loki is more important, and if this... Ian... really is who he says he is, they can hash it out later.

"Thor," he introduces himself, just as curtly. "I'm taking him to the bedroom." It's not quite the same air of command as Odin had wielded, but nevertheless it's the tone of a man who expects his will to be carried out without argument. Whether Ian wants to help or not is his business.

[coldsong]

As little as Loki likes to admit it, even to himself, one of the things he looks for in both friends and partners is the tendency to protective bristling being displayed here. Harley won his heart months ago when she called him princess, without sarcasm, and declared herself his knight. He doesn't want to need protection; he very much prefers to be seen as tricky and sharp and independent, but he has spent so much time alone, fighting with his back against the wall and no help coming. The behavior he's seeing here is like a drug. The irony of it coming from two directions--one fraternal, one very much not--and those two sources effectively posturing at one another, is too much. He breaks into laughter.

It's not steady, healthy laughter, but it falls short of hysteria, a refrain of breathless thready giggles that he clearly can't control. And he misses the nuances of Ian and Thor's responses to one another, only senses the danger lessened but not quite gone. But neither will lash out if he's in the way (fancy that; what an interesting development!), and so his body is the best distraction here.

He lets his knees buckle, forcing Thor to hold onto him with both hands, let Ian assist, or let him hit the floor. There's a flicker of seidr as he adjusts his weight to more human proportions--the chaotician will likely not notice, but Thor will.

Even at the end of his tether, he can't help but play the trickster card, clinging to Thor with one arm and reaching out to Ian with the other. Too late to hide his breakdown now, so he may as well demand Ian stay.

[malcolmeffect]

Ian is disastrously arrogant when in situations like this. Dangerous or not, whether he was welcome or not, Ian was getting to Loki's side. A glance passes at Thor near daring him to try and stop the human. It's posturing that has taken over to keep Ian out of his own collapse. The scene has too much potential to break the system and send Ian into his own mental health crash.

It's only Thor's words about getting Loki to bed, and Loki himself reaching for Ian that softens Malcolm's presence. The peacocking lessons and turns back to compassionate concern now that it is clear enough for his strained mind to track. It's not an easy task for Ian to get down low enough to put his shoulder under Loki's with the leg brace he wears but he manages through stubborn determination. Even if Loki hadn't changed his weight Ian would have tried, probably ending in injury. Once Loki's arm is around him, his own arm comes around Loki's back gripping fabric to pull him back up enough to walk.

He's worried but those discussions can happen later. For the moment he just gives Thor a nod to indicate he's ready to help.

[pirateangelbaby]

The look that Thor casts Loki is one of both deep concern and mild suspicion, because the sudden lightness of his brother's body speaks of a strange dishonesty, but the hysterical giggle hardly seems faked. He likes even less that Ian is so close, that Loki is between them, but his brother's well-being is his priority right now.

He barely waits for Ian to be ready to help before moving forward once again towards the bedroom and getting Loki onto the soft bedding, tugging the blanket free from around his shoulders to reposition it more comfortably on him and trying not to think of when the Guardians of the Galaxy had done the same for him. "Loki," he says, his voice low and gentle. "What do you need?" How can he help? Thor knows what he would want, in his brother's position, but he has learned the hard and painful lesson that they are more different than he used to think, and now of all times he is frightened of making this worse, even if well-intentioned.

Maybe even Loki does not know. Thor would not be terribly surprised if he didn't.

[coldsong]

The gambit works, and regardless of Thor's suspicion, Loki will never feel bad about this particular trick, if it's forced the two men to call a truce. It just goes to show that you can take just about everything out of the Trickster--hope included--but he's still a trickster.

Still, he's grateful to be placed in his bed, even if the sheets may end up slightly the worse for wear. He's still sweat-damp under the blanket. Thanks to his own healing factor, the little cuts have already healed up to the point it's hard to tell where they ever were, but there's a little blood here and there. He sits up for a moment after the blanket is around him, swaying groggily, then sinks back onto the pillows, knees curled up close to his body. The laughter has faded again, though the quiet hitching breaths that remain are not exactly reassuring.

What does he need? He should be put down like a rabid animal. It would be the kindest thing. He can't say that to Thor, though. He knows he can't. Probably Ian doesn't need to hear it, either, although he might take it less personally. He closes his eyes tightly, tries to breathe, lucidity slipping through his fingers only to snag and catch on the nails.

"Stay," he grits out. "Both of you, stay. I can't tell what's real. He'll come back for me if I'm alone."

He likes lies, Loki, because some truths are extremely unfair. Thanos is dead, the Black Order gone, but they're neither in Loki's head.

[malcolmeffect]

Ian doesn't get in the way of Thor putting Loki in bed. It isn't that he doesn't want to help but that he is aware of his own maneuverability limitations. If the brace has taught him anything it was that sometimes others might be better for a job than he is.

However, by the time Loki is situated in the bed Ian is already sitting on the side of it. He's been to places like this himself from infections, and illness, trauma, and his own brand of self abuse. He doesn't ask, only reaches out and takes Loki's hand in his. He isn't sure how much comfort to offer yet but his concern won't let him sit back and do nothing.

"Lex and Tim's mother has Kelly. I can... stay as long as you need." It was a serious offer weighted heavily with anxiety and worry. Ian would stay bedside for a close friend in this condition, and here there was something more, though still vastly undefined. With all the focus on Loki's condition, Ian has all but forgotten Thor's presence even if he had just asked a question.

[pirateangelbaby]

Loki does not specify who he means by he, but Thor needs no explanation. He can't guess if Ian knows, if he understands the gravity of the demon that haunts his brother, dead or not. Doesn't know anything of their shared history, in fact, other than the incredibly disconcerting resemblance to a man that Thor would never trust in a million years, and he can't tell if it's that or simple jealousy that makes him bristle at the liberties that Ian is taking with Loki's person.

Even so, he knows he should be grateful that someone else is here - that someone else cares about Loki - but it is difficult not to see this stranger as an interloper, someone whose history with Loki pales in comparison against centuries of brotherhood. But Loki wants him here, that much is clear, and Thor bites down on the harsh words that want to spring from his mouth. The storm he's called above the cottage has not abated, and a long, slow roll of thunder rumbles overhead toward the horizon. "He won't touch you ever again," Thor says, his voice as low and wild as the thunder, even as his hands tremble at the thought of facing Thanos a fourth time.

But he would do it, if the Mad Titan came for Loki. Thor would rather die than watch that happen again.

He's going to pay for this later. He knows that already. He'd been doing so well - still nightmares every night, but hazier ones, or so familiar that he knows how to brush aside the horrors in his waking hours, and it's been maybe two weeks since his last serious panic attack - but tonight's nightmares are going to be especially vivid ones, of that Thor has little doubt. But he has built himself up enough that he can face it without crumbling at the first breath of wind, fragile like a sapling in a storm, tested against strong gusts that may shake it to its roots or strengthen it until it can withstand even the harshest storm.

Thor sits on the other side of the bed, close enough that perhaps Loki may even feel his body heat, and runs his hands roughly through his own hair, trying to collect himself. "He won't touch you," he repeats, as much to Loki as it is to himself. What a ludicrous image he must make, sitting here in his soft cotton T-shirt and lightning bolt pajama pants, fingers tangling in his hair. Hardly the image of a king, nor a god, not even a warrior. Yet his resolve to protect his brother is no less for it.

[coldsong]

He does not deserve this attention; Loki knows it. Having them both hovering protectively by his side feels so good and yet utterly strange and wrong. Knowing that he can't help but make Thor's issues worse by exposing his own--and quite possibly Ian's, too--makes him feel small and dirty and sharp, like a used needle. But they're not going anywhere. It's his prerogative to be selfish, isn't it? If he's stuck being what he is anyway. Yes.

Ian's voice is nice. He'll have to mention later how much he likes it. Same vocal cords as the Grandmaster, maybe, but he uses them differently. Smoother, lower, sometimes a purr. He pulls his hand closer and kisses the back lightly, then lets his own arm go slack, just holding the clasp loosely.

Even that is a sign of improvement. The reality of people he can trust surrounding him doesn't entirely mask the trauma bubbling up, but it's a vital counterpoint.

Meanwhile, Thor's determination to protect him from Thanos is heartening. For the first time, though, Loki finds himself picturing the scene of his own demise from his brother's perspective, and it's awful. Having watched Harley's struggle and thought she was dead--Norns, if that has him so unbalanced, imagine poor Thor.

"I didn't realize," he says distinctly to his brother, and grips his forearm. But he doesn't clarify what he didn't realize, merely adds: "I'm here."

He's here. Not dying, not being tortured, not killing the innocent, not watching the innocent being slaughtered. And if the Mind Stone still whispers to him, at least she is a long distance away and no longer under Thanos' control. There's a lull of quiet for just a moment, then, and the sound of thunder and rain lashing the roof filters in through the white noise of his own mind.

"That's nice," he says. "The thunder."

He takes a deep breath, shivers, calms, and looks over at Ian. "That's Thor doing that, you know. I know you don't exactly believe in gods, but he does call the storm. I used to be afraid of it, but not now. Not any longer."

Absurdly, as if his brain has latched onto the distraction of having the two of them there, he squeezes Thor's arm, hand shaking, but there's a lighter look in his eyes for the moment. "Ian studies chaos," he tells him. "He's brilliant. And our children play together."

There. That's everything you need to know about one another, right? Right.

[malcolmeffect]

Ian didn't know who they were talking about staying away from Loki, however, he knew someone had destroyed half of all life. There had to be dangerous things for him to face, death at least, and Ian had thought dinosaurs were bad. He might have gone down a dark mental path with these thoughts, but the kiss to his hand distracts him in time. It seems that Loki has some grasp on reality and his own thoughts. That is good. Ian was already evaluating Loki's mental state. Malcolm wasn't a doctor, but he'd been through a breakdown, more than once, enough to know the good and bad signs.

The mention of thunder clears Ian's mind, if only a small percentage. A smile and a snorted laugh follows the explanation. He knows Loki's heard that laugh brought on by finding yet another shared fear or trauma. It's only now that he realizes Loki didn't know the details about the Rex attack, the thunder and rain. Now isn't the time for these discussion. Not now, but maybe sometime over his stay which he can now see will be a long one, if Loki is anything like he was.

The discussion, or rather Loki addressing them both, finally brings back the idea there is another person in the room. Thor receives a critical look as he studies him. The attire really isn't a surprise. How many times had someone come to his aid without time to prepare for him or visitors?

His mind on the children he gives Loki's hand a squeeze. "You know... I had to bribe Kelly or ..uh.. she would be here too."

[pirateangelbaby]

Didn't realize? Thor has no idea what Loki means, but he doesn't care, anchored by that grip on his arm to the reality of the here and now, and he curses himself a little for needing such reassurance when it is Loki who is in such need. He's quick to put his other hand on top of Loki's, for his brother's comfort or his own, he's not sure. I'm here. "...so am I."

What a fragile and delicate thing it seems, for the both of them to be together. Thor had thought he'd passed the worst of his heartbreak when Loki had affirmed his presence aboard the Statesman, a sign that his brother had returned to him of his own free will, a step in the right direction. A step toward healing, no matter how long the path, or if they both would eventually stray from it. That moment is still a treasured one, but overshadowed by the worse tragedy that followed, a horror so deep that Thor will never be fully free of it. But there are echoes of it here too, now, a promise that for this moment at least, Loki is here with him. It is a gift that Thor will never take for granted again.

He squeezes Loki's hand lightly, and finally looks back at Ian, still a bit on edge with just how closely he resembles the Grandmaster. He did not deliberately ensure that the human is on his sighted side, but he is grateful for it anyway. "A man who studies chaos," he repeats quietly, thoughtfully. No wonder he drew Loki's attention, then. Though Thor is not quite sure how one would study such a thing in the first place. But then, humans have some funny ideas, sometimes. And occasionally more insightful than Asgardians, their minds quick and sharp to make up for the brief time in which they have to use them. Is it any wonder that they they might try to know the unknowable, even if they fail?

And with children, besides. Loki's children are numerous enough that they probably don't hurt for playmates, but maybe it's to their benefit to have friends that do not share their same traumas, even if they are no doubt far older than their human companion. But that said, Thor is not sure it'd be a good idea for this Kelly to see Loki in such a state... why do these things have to be so complicated?

What's done is done. Thor must deal with what is, not what could be. He's been told this often enough to know better. Still holding onto Loki, and being held in return, he looks over at the man, aware that he is hardly making a good first impression but completely unable to care about that. "Does he know?" Even Thor is not certain what he is asking about. Ragnarok, Thanos, Loki's fall from Asgard? So much has happened in the span of only one short decade, and it has all left its scars on Odin's sons. Some more than others. One who matters more, in this moment.

[coldsong]

Oh? Oh. Yes, Loki recognizes that wry chuckle in Ian, the same way he recognizes the soaring tension in his brother. Norns, they're a triple-disaster waiting to happen here, three fields of plentiful landmines trying to keep one another from experiencing an explosion.

Why is it that feels reassuring? Maybe it's nice not to be the most damaged one in the room sometimes. Or, at least, only equally damaged as compared to one's companions. He's calming in minute increments, watching both men in turn as if he's not 100% sure he believes what he's seeing, but wants to keep trying. "Mustn't bring impressionable children to watch gods have episodes of PTSD," he murmurs to Ian. "But you can bribe her with an outing with the children later maybe, they want to go sledding and ice skating and the hills in the Wilds aren't a good place for it."

The children. The children. His eyes close and he shudders as he pushes away the mental image of what he thought he saw himself doing to Sigrid. He would never. He would never. But it's a picture that's hard to shake. His ears ring with the screams of children ripped from their parents or siblings in the culls he witnessed. A hundred thousand awful, awful memories. He's sinking under again, but Thor asks him a question and he comes back up, blinking at him blankly for a moment.

"He knows..." What has he told Ian? He's bitched about Odin, but has he mentioned the details of his icy revelation? He knows why Loki has the children, knows he resembles a man he knew once, but perhaps not the full story of Ragnarok, and little enough about Sakaar.

And Thanos...well, he certainly knows about the Decimation--

Fuck. Loki's eyes widen and his hands tighten their grip on both men abruptly. "He helped me with maths and figures," he says, the words spilling out in that same high panicked voice he used to tell Thor Ian was human. "To help our worlds recover after the...the dust. The stone, the snap. Turns out yours didn't need that which is good but there's still mine and of course with infinite worlds there are bound to be infinite disasters and then I thought perhaps worlds with less dire apocalypses could use the data rather than terraforming via technology to recover, Thor, you know I'm not an altruist, really, but if it's something that costs me so little why not do it?"

He's usually such a good liar, maybe Thor won't recognize he's lying really badly right now. He has to stop for breath, fortunately, panting a little and looking over at Ian as if in a plea for help.

[malcolmeffect]

Ian isn't sure what to make of the situation at hand. He knew some of Loki's life in the recent past, hints about his family. Curiosity of a scientist left his mind eagerly trying to piece things together from the scarce words in the three way conversation.

"No, seeing mine was enough for her." Ian was comfortable with Loki knowing just how broken he was, though he never understood why. Maybe he had seen the way Loki was fractured too, some little pattern than his subconscious picked up on even when he didn't realize it.

If it didn't require letting go of Loki's hand Ian would have crossed his arms in his usual haughty manner, though the absent gesture is clear in the lightly prodding and humorous tone. "Well, uh, I'm no good for either of those with this brace, so, unless you're getting up to keep me company from boredom while they run about screaming it'll have to wait."

It was unintentional how the affection appeared in those words, but Ian was incredibly fascinated with, and fond of, Loki's company. Maybe it was for the best that he hear it now when he was so incapacitated? Now that it was said it was too late to worry about what Thor might think of the situation. Malcolm had a poor track record for caring about the opinions of others, even if they might be gods.

The way his mind wanders is cut short by the grip on his hand. It's near painful, though he doesn't wince or show it. Panic rising so quickly around Ian sends him into his own jittery spiral. Death followed that high pitched voice one too many times in his recent past. Anxiety causes a barely perceptible trembling in his hand that is folded in Loki's. A panic attack was the last thing this situation needed.

"Don't worry about it now." Ian isn't sure how to soothe panic, after all he's a disaster with his own on most days. He hazards a glance at Thor before he shifts, rather precariously, to get closer to Loki on the bed. Irritation with his brace doesn't help the panic. One hand still in Loki's he places the other lightly on his chest. Of all the things Ian remembered helping with his own spirals, contact and people talking to him had been most beneficial. "We can talk about this some other time."

He's not sure what Loki expects him to say but he sees the pleading gaze, keeps his eyes fixed on Loki's with confusion in his expression. Ian couldn't help feeling a little out of place, or out of the loop concerning the topics.

[pirateangelbaby]

Something's set Loki off, Thor can tell, even before the panicked rambling begins. A reminder of something horrible, made suddenly real and present in the moment, even though it is nothing but shadows and memory. His concern only skyrockets when his brother grabs hold of him and begins babbling, and the words are no more alarming than the way that Loki is speaking.

It's not quite the same as the panic that sometimes sets its barbed hooks into Thor, stealing away his breath and words in equal measure, a crushing weight that makes him feel as though he may die at any moment. But something about it seems similar enough that before he is conscious of the decision to, Thor is already holding even more tightly to Loki's hand, the other reaching up to soothe that wild dark hair back from his brother's face as their mother did when they were still boys. "Shh, shh, it's all right. Just breathe, Loki."

He's not quite sure what is going on either, but whatever lies his brother is trying to frantically spin, they're not more important than this horrible distress, nor his guilt at unintentionally provoking it. He should have known better. Even now, Thor has a hard time just hearing the Mad Titan's name, particularly when he is not prepared for it. What must it be like for Loki? "We've got you. Just breathe. In and out. That's it."

[coldsong]

He's listening, dimly, to Ian's wry comment about Loki keeping him company while the children run and play. That could be arranged. It could be cozy, sitting with hot coffee and letting the children run amok in the snow. Maybe in Asvera. He could ask Thor about that; he's right here...

Unfortunately his own alarm disrupts that more pleasant train of thought, and all he can think is that if they tell Thor how bad the situation was based on Ian's calculations, how close they came to losing literally everything, he'll break, no matter that the disaster is averted in his world. And in Loki's world, there is still much to be done, and a greater chance of failure than success.

We can talk about this some other time, Ian says, and that's more or less the kind of help Loki was actually looking for. Steering away from the lethal topic that he thinks they've strayed onto. He's got no perspective right now; that's the source of the panic. A stray word, the wrong phrase, and that which he's tried to hard to hide, he fears, could be brought to light in a millisecond. It's not really giving Ian due credit for sensitivity, though, to worry about him giving things away, and Loki will realize that later.

At the moment, the tone in the human's voice, the movement closer to him, the pressure of his hand on his chest, speak clearer than words.

In almost the same time, Thor, too, is coming closer and smoothing his hair back and something in Loki's brain clicks back into place from where it had come dislocated. We've got you. For a split second he looks spectacularly confused, from one to the other, but then, obediently, he breathes, eyes falling shut. And he can hear the rain on the roof, the sound of their breath and their heartbeats, the faint music coming from the childrens' room ("'Well he don't know Nellie like I do!' said the saucy little bird on Nellie's hat.").

"Oh, Norns," he murmurs. "I'm tired. I'm so tired."

The panic is fading fast, though. He can do nothing but trust the both of them, anyway, especially since he's not sure he can trust himself. And so he does, consciously putting himself in their hands. After a few breaths, he starts to uncurl, muscles relaxing, heart slowing to a normal pace. The grip he had on them eases, and he puts his hand over Ian's hand on his chest.

There are several moments of quiet, interspersed with a flicker of green seidr coming and going in the tiny space between Loki's cheekbones and his lowered eyelashes. "I thought I was doing all right," he says at length. "But then I saw myself in the mirror, hurting Sigrid."

"I've seen such awful things. I've done awful things. Just when I think I've found a way back to myself, another shoe drops and everything falls apart again. I know...I know what I am. I don't know who. How do I know if I'm looking at an echo of what was done to me, or if I'm looking at something I might do?"


((Just as a matter of curiosity, this is what the children are watching.))