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

[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.))

[malcolmeffect]

"Then rest." Ian comments. "I..." his eyes shift over to Thor before coming back to Loki. "We'll uh be here to watch."

How many people had watched over Malcolm since the island? He couldn't remember but if memory served it was everyone he knew at some point or another. The revelation of what he had seen in his mind draws a long sigh from Ian. Waking terrors were a horrible thing. Sympathy and understanding was all the human had for the god and that came through in touch and expression.

"I..uh.. ask myself these questions all the time." It wasn't Ian's way to expose his mental state or vulnerability, especially with a stranger in the room, but this was for Loki's benefit alone. Thor could think what he wanted, if it became something negative it would not be the first or last time it happened in Malcolm's life.

[pirateangelbaby]

This would be so much easier if they were alone, Thor thinks, and yet having the human here does seem to be helping Loki get his runaway panic under control. It's absurd to be jealous over such a thing, though Thor can't exactly help how he feels, but Ian's presence is grudgingly accepted for the good he's doing here. Thor spares him only a small glance, most of his attention focused on his brother, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance.

"It's okay," he says quietly, worry in his eye, his own fears and anxieties shoved aside for Loki's sake. It's his turn to be the strong one, the shoulder his brother needs to lean on, finally rallied enough to bear the weight for a time. "We've got you. You're safe here."

Vaguely, he gets the impression that Ian is not quite in his element here, missing context perhaps despite whatever Loki has told him. Thor does not entirely understand either, because he knows that there are things that Loki has not shared with him, only hinted at through words or actions. It may even be so that Loki does not have the words to speak of any of it, his silvered tongue no match for the near-eldritch ways a mind can twist in on itself in defiance of all description or explanation, unmoored from any sense of reality. And truthfully, Thor is afraid to understand what abyss his brother has gazed into, to truly grasp the horrors that live not in imagined dreams but agonizing memory. His own are nightmare enough.

But even if he does not know the exact shape of Loki's dread, he knows enough, and understands too well how this sort of madness can break even the strongest man. Even gods.

Thor, too, is reluctant to expose any weakness on his part in front of a stranger. His own struggles are public knowledge in Asvera, and it's quite possible that the Midgardian gossip channels have picked up on it by now, but it is a very different thing to speak of it himself in front of someone he doesn't know. And yet Thor's pride has been bruised enough that it does not sting so much more to admit to such things if his brother may benefit from the sharing. "I don't know either," he admits, tucking a strand of black hair behind Loki's ear, though it needs no smoothing. "No one... no one can tell you who you are. I'm learning that every day. But you need not do it alone."

[coldsong]

"You do?" Ian is the first to respond verbally to his fears, and Loki's gaze flits over to settle on him. He's genuinely surprised to hear this, but maybe he shouldn't be. He's caught subtle glimpses of rage buried deep in the man's heart. Wounds beget wounds.

He wants to ask more, but he's equally conscious of Thor's protective presence and stolid reassurance, and that neither of them really needs to pour out their secrets in front of a man they've just met. He wants them both right where they are, but he also wants the freedom to talk with them each freely alone. How frustrating!

Well. Not so frustrating that his weariness and their gentle touches can't combine to wash the flicker of discontentment away. He manages a wry smile and tells Ian: "I'm sure you haven't actually killed as many people as I have. I'd bet money on it."

It's a weird sort of joke, but if Loki's getting any semblance of humor back, that's an improvement.

His eyes flutter closed when Thor strokes that stray lock of his hair, battle-calloused fingers that he fancies still smell faintly of the greenhouse. Loki lets out a long, quiet sigh, sinking into the blankets as his body loses its tension, slow but sure. Words are usually his preference, but a friendly touch, he thinks, might be underrated.

"I don't always know which of my memories are real and which aren't," he admits, more for Thor's benefit than Ian's. "Sometimes I think I'll turn around and the Mind Stone will be right there talking at me all over again, and all of this will turn out to be a dream."

"Reality is weirdly malleable," he adds. "Especially here. All three of us are proof of that, with alternates and with faces shared with people we'll never meet."

He opens his eyes, brow creased, and looks from Ian to Thor and back. "If you do meet someone here who looks like you except older," he tells the human, "try to get away from him expeditiously. Or call me or...something."

He's not sure what the Grandmaster would think of Ian, except that he'd probably be curious and interested and that would be anything but safe for all concerned.

[malcolmeffect]

"Yes." Ian confirms but doesn't say more. He didn't mind talking to Loki about his darker past, but it was something he hid deep and didn't want to find its way to rumors.

"Uh.. with my own hands, no..." He gets a little self-amused chuckle from the human. There have been deaths because of him, some bore guilt from people not listening to him when they should. Others had been vicious and underhanded but not physical deaths. This was not the time for it to be talked about but the thought keeps the smile in Ian's expression.

Ian doesn't know a lot of what Loki is mentioning, but as a Chaos theorist who now knows there are many, many universes he can accept anything at this point. With enough iterations, in enough universes, the improbable should be common place. Reality had truly become malleable.

"The Grandmaster?" Ian asks, remembering when he first met Loki. Hindsight gave him a lot more insight and pushed home the idea that leaving in a hurry was for the best.

[pirateangelbaby]

It's Thor's first reflex to assure Loki that this is real, that any such fears would manifest only in hallucination or dream, and that he need not fear a sudden waking to being the Titan's thrall. But that is what a hallucination would say, wouldn't it? How can he give Loki the anchor to reality that he needs, when the falsehoods created by his own mind would be just as convincing? He can't. Thor of all people knows that words alone are not always strong enough to break through the barriers that your own mind raises, whether to your benefit or to your detriment.

All he can do is be present, solid and breathing, a listening ear to share his brother's deepest fears. And say the words anyway, as many times as Loki needs to hear it to believe it. "I'm here. I promise you, this is real. And if you find you cannot trust your own memories... ask. I will help you, if I can."

It seems such a small, paltry effort to uproot this deep-seated poison in Loki's mind. But Thor would offer anyway, even if it's all he can do.

He continues the repetitive soothing of combing through his brother's hair with careful fingers, and gives Ian a wary sort of look out of the corner of his eye. "Ruler of a planet called Sakaar, with a taste for cruelty. I was sold into servitude into his rigged gladiatorial games for a few days."

[coldsong]

Loki is dazed, still coming up from the crisis, but not so out of it as to miss that expression on Ian's face. That is very interesting, indeed. Chaos and mischief do often go hand in hand, but until now he rather assumed the man was more or less upright. Maybe not? They'll definitely need to chat later.

For now, he'll just refrain from calling attention to that, and hope Thor doesn't notice.

His brother's physical presence and soft, cajoling words are nice, and he closes his eyes again, with a fleeting smile. "Some of it should not be spoken of, especially not now...ohh, but if you have more stories about when we were boys, perhaps? I remembered the snake story, I never forgot that one, but I couldn't help smiling when you told it to Banner and Brunnhilde, because it was good to hear it confirmed."

He's quiet a moment, letting Thor explain the Grandmaster, but feels the need to add his own perspective, then: "Not cruelty. Just complete amorality. He's one of the Elders of the universe. I'm not sure he sees anyone around him as important or even immediately real, except inasmuch as they can entertain him. He told me we were all like fireflies, once. Blink, and then gone."

"I could have gotten you out of the ring entirely, you know. He liked me. Would've gone bad eventually, but I could have bought us time." But it's probably not worth arguing about, not right now.

"I made myself part of the Grandmaster's entourage," he explains to Ian. "Only cost me a little dignity. But I had it under control."

[malcolmeffect]

Ian falls into intent listening as things go beyond his knowledge. However, he is a quick learner and can start to piece things, fill in gaps, as he goes.

As the two brothers counter about the Grandmaster, Ian's expression begins to pull with worry. Not only because there was some being of questionable character with his face, but the nature of the being was too close to home. How many times had discussions passed between him, Sattler, and Grant about whether Hammond was cruel or just uncaring. It certainly wasn't on a cosmic scale but the content was entirely too close to home.

Instinctively, he starts stroking Loki's hand still in his thumb over the back. For the moment he can't say who he is trying to comfort. That point driven home when the concept of joining someone at the cost of dignity, by the sounds of it to keep an eye on them and potentially stay safe drew the parallel to even closer. A cosmic level, amoral, John Hammond running rigged gladiator games sounds like more madness than Ian can process.

He does manage a small smile and humor despite how unnerved the concept is. "Uh.. so I have an older, evil twin like a comicbook hero."