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Thor was awoken by the sound of coughing.
He stirred, slightly, and sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist as he cast his gaze blearily around the dark of his bedroom.
There was a beat of silence, before the coughing sound rang out again, harsh and rattling as if being torn roughly from whoever was struggling for breath.
And, to Thor’s dismay, there was only one person who that might be.
His heart beginning to hammer within his chest, Thor swung his legs over the side of the bed before standing to hastily cross the room, not bothering to flick on any lights as he exited the bedroom and turned the corner into the small living space next door.
On the small couch that was tucked neatly into the corner of the room, Thor could just make out the hunched form curled there, easily mistakable for a pile of blankets, were it not for the thatch of dark hair sticking out at the very top.
That, and the way the pile shuddered visibly, before releasing another harsh cough.
“Loki?” Thor inquired, crossing the space to kneel at the side of the sofa and extending a hand automatically. “Are you alright?”
When there was no reply, Thor felt his brow furrow into a frown, and allowed his outstretched hand to fall to rest on where he assumed Loki’s shoulder might be, beneath the three or so blankets piled atop him.
Immediately, he fought the urge to pull back at the heat he could feel beneath the fabric there.
“Brother?” Thor called, a bit louder now, worry beginning to gnaw at his gut as Loki continued to lie almost motionless. “Loki!”
He shook the shoulder beneath his grip, only for his stomach to roll slightly as Loki’s form lolled, loose and pliant, beneath the touch.
“No,” Thor whispered hoarsely, the image of Loki lying limp in his arms, blood leaking sluggishly out from the Kursed’s wound in the middle of his chest, rising to the forefront of his mind before he could stop it.
“Loki,” he repeated, and began to frantically tear at the thick blankets covering his brother’s still form. “Loki!”
Still, Loki did not react. And, when Thor managed to unearth his face, it was pale and waxen, save for two spots of rosy color high on both his cheekbones.
Without the barrier of the blankets between them, the heat of the fever fairly radiated off of him in waves, and Thor felt his stomach turn again as it burned beneath his touch when he quickly raised a hand to press two fingers to Loki’s pulsepoint.
The pulse he could feel was reedy and faint, but blessedly there, at any rate.
Exhaling a sigh, Thor fell back on his heels and watched, now that he could see it, as Loki’s chest rattled shallowly beneath his thin nightshirt with each breath.
It was a relieving sight, though it did little to ease the tightness that had begun to wind itself around Thor’s lungs.
Not when Loki, a famously light sleeper, continued to lie motionless, save for the breaths shaking his chest, his expression worryingly lax.
“Loki?” Thor allowed himself to prod, again, and reached out to settle his hand back on Loki’s shoulder. “Loki, please.” he inhaled a tremulous breath and, uncaring as he could feel tears beginning to well behind his eye, shook his brother again. “Please answer me.”
Loki, unsurprisingly, did not, his face remaining stubbornly blank even as Thor’s shaking grew almost violent in his frantic insistence.
“Loki?” Thor pleaded, the hand on Loki’s shoulder squeezing tight enough that it was sure to leave bruises, later.
He inhaled a sharp, hiccupping breath, and finally gave in to the panic he could feel clawing its way up the back of his throat.
“Loki!”
---
“He’s been like this for how long, you said?” Bruce inquired as he hastened through Thor’s front door, the Valkyrie trailing behind him with a yawn, sporting a mighty case of bedhead that would have had Thor in stitches, under any other circumstances.
As it was, he could hardly register more than a surge or gratefulness at their both having made the effort to come by, past the worry that had not left him once since he had been awoken by Loki’s coughing.
“An hour, at least.” Thor informed as he followed the two back into the living room where Loki was still laid out, having remained motionless since Thor had discovered him over an hour before and, after several further attempts to wake his brother, had phoned Bruce to tremulously explain what was happening.
And now, less than 10 minutes following the phone call, Bruce was here, already rattling off a number of questions Thor was not quite able to catch in his distracted state of mind.
“I’m sorry?” he replied, when Bruce raised a curious brow in his direction.
“It’s alright,” Bruce offered a small, encouraging smile. “I was just asking if you’d done anything to bring the fever down.”
Already, he was moving to lean at the side of the sofa, and Thor hastened to follow.
“I’ve been applying cold compresses.” he informed, and gestured (probably unhelpfully) to the washcloth soaked in cool water that sat perched on the edge of Loki’s forehead, one of many Thor had administered in the past hour. “I, uh--I didn’t exactly know what to do.” he admitted, at length.
“No, that’s good.” Bruce murmured, and raised a hand to press it against the side of Loki’s neck, to which Thor had to suppress an automatic surge of jealousy at the familiar gesture.
Almost immediately, Bruce’s eyes widened, and he drew the hand back with a small hiss.
“He’s uh--” he swallowed, slightly. “That’s definitely a fever.”
“No shit,” Val muttered from behind, though there was no real heat behind the words, and seconds later, appeared at Thor’s other side. “I can practically feel it from here.”
“He hasn’t woken up.” Thor informed, definitely unhelpfully, now, as it was more or less the exact information he’d provided over the phone. “I--I’ve tried talking to him, and he doesn’t respond.”
“Has he moved at all?” Bruce inquired. “Talked in his sleep, or…”
“Just coughed.” Thor replied with a small shake of his head.
And, as if on cue, a harsh cough rattled Loki’s frame, and his features pinched together for a brief moment through the spell, before he fell limp once more.
“Right,” Bruce nodded slightly, and watched with a slightly furrowed brow as Thor moved forward to wipe at the sweat beading at his brother’s forehead. “Thor--I know it’s not what you want to hear, but he might need a hospital.”
“No.” Thor argued at once, already shaking his head firmly.
It wasn’t that he personally did not want Loki to see a healer.
On the contrary, he more likely than not would have already taken Loki himself, were he not certain of how Loki might react.
Even before--well, before everything, Loki had been touchy about going to see the healers, when sick or injured.
Thor could personally remember a handful of times, following their teenage years, where Loki had returned from a quest or journey with an injury severe enough to warrant a visit to the infirmary on Asgard, only for his brother to brush any concern sent his way off dismissively, insisting that he was “fine,”.
And, if their mother or Thor himself pressed the matter at all, it usually only succeeded in causing Loki to become tetchy and, if they persisted, outrightly hostile.
So no, Thor did not think that a visit to a healer would end well for any of them.
Particularly Loki. Not without his explicit permission.
“He won’t have it.” Thor argued lowly, now, a steely frown already creasing his features.
To his right, Val chided, “Highness...I don’t think he’d have much of an opinion about it, just now.”
“He--” Thor faltered, and glanced briefly to Loki’s pale face before allowing his gaze to drop, again. “He can be...particular. About these things.”
“Look, we get it.” Val replied, immediately, though the sternness of her words was somewhat undermined by the softness at the edges of her features. “He’s private, and ridiculously touchy. But do you really think that facing a little bit of Loki’s irritation would be worse than letting this,” she gestured sharply toward Loki, now, “continue?!”
“I don’t know!” Thor cried, suddenly enough that both Val and Bruce jolted slightly. “I--I don’t know.” he added on a broken whisper, and could not stop himself from falling forward to bury his face in one hand.
There was a beat, the only sound in the room Thor’s harsh breaths as he fought to regain control of his rapidly unwinding emotions, before he nearly startled at the feel of a hand settling gently onto his right shoulder.
And, after a moment, it was followed by one falling to grip at his left.
“Thor,” Val murmured, “It’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, buddy.” Bruce tacked on, when Thor could not find it within himself to reply, just yet. “He just--he’ll be okay.”
Thor hesitated, his stomach still turning violently, before he nodded curtly, once.
“Alright,” he agreed with a small, weary exhale, and felt Bruce’s hold on his shoulder squeeze gently when he did. “We can take him.”
To his left, Thor could just make out Bruce huffing out a small sigh of relief.
“I promise, Thor.” he encouraged. “It’ll be good for him.”
And, though he knew rationally that it was the truth, Thor could not have helped the surge of protectiveness that flared to life within him at the words if he had tried.
“Alright,” he repeated, for lack of anything better to say and, when neither of his companions reacted, moved forward to begin to scoop his brother into his arms.
Which was exactly when Loki began screaming.
---
Two hours, Thor considered as he turned to glare at the early morning light beginning to filter through the small window above the sofa.
It had been two hours, now, and Loki had refused to stop his screaming beyond taking a moment to inhale another, heaving breath, before he continued to wail.
“Loki,” Thor pleaded, where he was still crouched beside the couch, one hand gripped tightly at the side of Loki’s neck as his brother thrashed weakly, his eyes clenched shut and his brow pinched in a grimace. “Brother, please. Calm down. It’s alright.”
“Thor!” the Valkyrie snapped, reaching down to grab at Thor’s upper arm and tugging slightly. “You need to take a break.”
“I can’t!” Thor snapped, and turned to shoot her a scowl. “How can I leave him when he’s--he’s like this?”
“He’s been like ‘this’ for the past two hours.” Val informed, unnecessarily, her expression still miraculously composed even as Thor felt that he was near falling apart at the seams. “A few minutes more won’t change anything.”
It could change everything, Thor thought darkly, but did not speak the thought aloud.
In truth, he had spent the better part of the last two hours hoping, praying that something would shift, and Loki would either awaken or calm enough to fall back into a state of semi-comatose, long enough for them to drag him somewhere more comfortable.
Rather, ever insistent upon his own obstinance, Loki had continued to thrash and shout, his cries rising in pitch to the point of reaching all out screams, on occasion.
And, even as Thor had all but begged him to speak and tell them was was wrong, for once in his life, Loki had not offered any words beyond the occasional, “Please,” or, “No,” or, once, a near heartbreakingly fragile, “Stop!”
And so they had remained, Bruce and the Valkyrie seemingly taking shifts in kneeling by Thor’s side as he offered Loki was little comfort he seemed able, administering periodically refreshed cool cloths to his brow and offering whispered words of comfort, when Loki’s thrashing grew strong enough to nearly throw himself off of the sofa.
“Nn--” Loki groaned, now, his features pinching further as he jolted again against an assailant unseen to all but him. “No--No.”
“Loki,” Thor whispered, his good eye burning as he watched his little brother struggle. “Oh, brother.”
“Thor,” Val spoke, then, her insistent tone drawing Thor roughly back to the present moment. “You need to rest. Let me stay with him. It’ll be fine.”
“Will it?” Thor all but breathed, though he allowed the Valkyrie to draw him to his feet with no further complaint, the room around him spinning somewhat as they stood.
He was led to the kitchen, and Val took the time to set him into a chair at the dining table across from where Bruce was sat, his head resting in one hand, before she disappeared back into the living room without another word.
“Any change?” Bruce asked, when Thor did little but study the tabletop beneath his vaguely trembling fingers in silence for an indeterminable amount of time.
“None.” Thor replied tonelessly.
Another shrill cry came from the living area over Thor’s shoulder, and he felt something within his chest twist violently at the sound.
“I should go back.” he declared, at once, and made to stand--
Only for the Valkyrie to come barreling back into the room not a second later, her expression more unsettled than Thor could remember ever having seen it.
“He doesn’t know me.” she breathed, before either Bruce or Thor could speak, her eyes wide and somewhat distant.
Thor felt his blood chill slightly at the words, and swallowed thickly before managing to question, “What?”
“He doesn’t know me.” Val repeated, a bit of color returning to her face as she turned to meet Thor’s gaze.
“What do you mean, ‘doesn’t know you’?” Bruce inquired, when Thor could not offer more than a small croak, in reply to the words.
“I mean,” Val insisted with a small, exasperated roll of her eyes. “That he doesn’t know me. He--he’s confused. He just opened his eyes, and--”
Thor felt what little air was within his lungs leave him in a whoosh, and had crossed the room to reenter the living space before he had fully registered the urge to do so.
“Thor!” Val cried, raising a hand to brace it against Thor’s chest before he could exit entirely. “I mean it. He’s--he’s pretty out of it. He started mumbling about the ‘inevitable’ and ‘destiny’, or something. I--” she hesitated, her glance briefly falling away, before she steeled herself visibly and met Thor’s eyes, again.
“I hardly recognize him.” she informed, setting her jaw in an effort Thor knew meant that she was attempting valiantly to reign in her emotions. “His eyes, they…”
She trailed off, then, a vaguely troubled expression on her face.
Regardless, the meaning behind the words rang out clearly, and Thor felt his stomach drop, only distantly aware of a rumble of thunder sounding just outside the window.
“Thor,” Val warned, though Thor hardly heard it. “Just try to--”
Before she could finish, Thor was already beginning to stride past her and back into the living room, his chest tight and a determined expression darkening his features--
Only to be drawn immediately to a halt, his breath freezing in his lungs and eye widening as it fell once again to the sofa.
The sofa, where Loki was now sat bolt upright, his hands curled and claw like as they gripped at his elbows, nails digging into the skin there as he gazed at Thor with wide and wild eyes.
“Loki?” Thor breathed, his pulse speeding somewhat as his brother simply continued to stare at him.
Uncomprehendingly, Thor realized, a second too late, and opened his mouth to offer--offer something, only for Loki’s breathless question to interrupt him;
“Who are you?” he whispered, his lower lip quivering almost imperceptibly as one, crystalline tear streaked down his cheek.
“What do you want with me?”
---
He was burning.
Loki hissed as the heat around him seemed to increase at the thought alone, sweat beading briefly at his temples before it dribbled down his cheeks and to his neck like blood.
Not that he was entirely certain that it wasn’t.
“Please,” he whispered, far past the point of feeling ashamed at his being forced to beg.
He was well aware, after all, that his breaking was ultimately inevitable; whether it happened sooner or later was of little consequence.
“Don’t.”
As if insistent upon delivering exactly what he was attempting to squirm pitifully away from, the heat seemed to intensify, and Loki bit his lip against the howl that wanted to burst forth from his throat, hard enough to draw blood, were his skin not dehydrated to the point of being unable to produce any.
“Oh, little warrior.” a voice cooed, and Loki considered that he would have felt a chill at the sound of it, were he not so surrounded by heat.
It was a new tactic, he mused distantly. He’d been faced with a number of horrors, in the past; blades, whips, electricity…
And yet, nobody had seemed to consider heat, until now.
Heat for a Frost Giant, he thought a little wildly, and huffed a breathless laugh, entirely devoid of humor.
How fitting.
“It will be over soon.” the voice continued, and Loki felt himself cringe away, though he found himself unable to identify the source of the voice.
Maw? Possibly, though he did not tend to speak quite as much, during their sessions.
Nebula, perhaps?
Or--or was it Him?
Had he truly come so early?
At the thought alone, Loki renewed his efforts, his squirming increasing in fervor as he fairly reeled back when the voice spoke again.
“Stop fighting.”
“N--No.” Loki gasped, and swallowed as another bead of sweat trailed down his forehead, hanging briefly on the edge of his brow before falling to the dust below.
Something at the back of his mind tugged almost painfully, and Loki grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut against the sickeningly familiar feeling of someone prodding at him there.
Someone watching.
“Get out.” he hissed, forcing a sneer onto his face even as his stomach lurched nauseatingly. “Get out.”
“It makes little difference.”
And, though Loki felt the overwhelming urge to clench his eyes shut against the sight, he could not help but watch as the large, imposing figure stepped out from the shadows and into his line of sight.
No.
“Please!” Loki howled, a sob bubbling up within his chest before he could stop it.
“You cannot run from this.” the thundering voice continued, echoing dimly in the heat of their surroundings.
And, on the tail end of the words, a large face loomed just before his to offer a broad and twisted grin.
Loki gagged on an inhale--
“You cannot run from me.”
Loki screamed.
---
“Stop!” Loki all but shrieked, wrenching out from beneath Thor’s hands on his shoulders and nearly toppling to the floor below with the force of his struggles. “Please!”
“Hey!” Thor cried, rising to his knees from his previously crouched position to press Loki back into the mattress as gently as he could. “It’s alright.”
Following his initial outburst (his confusion and fear at Thor’s appearance, Thor remembered with a grimace), Loki had not managed to remain conscious for long, and had allowed himself to be laid back down onto the surface of the sofa with little fight, before his eyes had slid closed again.
And, sometime in the past few hours, they had managed to get him to quiet, somewhat, his hoarse cries tapering off into the occasional, heartbreaking whimper, though his brow had remained furrowed as his eyes fluttered madly beneath his closed lids.
Deciding to take advantage of the brief respite, Thor had scooped Loki into his arms and, with Bruce’s help, moved his brother to his own bed, his heart aching painfully as he watched Loki curl beneath the covers almost immediately, his shoulders shuddering mightily.
To Thor’s surprise and, ultimately, relief, the move seemed to have done Loki good. While he had continued to writhe, sweating out the worst of his fever, he had yet to reawaken, and it had been nearly an hour since he had cried out in his sleep.
Hopeful at the progression, Thor had sent Bruce and the Valkyrie back to their own homes to get some sleep, promising to call if anything changed or (hopefully) improved.
Which, of course, had been only about 15 minutes before Loki had begun to stir, again.
“Loki!” Thor cried now, as his brother raised a hand to swing it clumsily toward Thor’s face, though he doubted that the meager strength behind the blow would have done much damage. “It’s not real. It’s me. It’s Thor!”
Seemingly unable to hear him, Loki’s features twisted bitterly, and a small sob escaped his throat as he attempted to break out of Thor’s hold.
“Let me--” he murmured, and coughed wetly before continuing, “Let me go!”
His legs began to kick out weakly, then, Thor’s sheets and blankets tangling around the limbs as Loki continued to thrash.
“Stop,” Thor pleaded. “It’s alright.”
“Gah!” Loki barked, the force with which he yanked backward so unexpected he was able to successfully free one hand from Thor’s grip.
Before Thor could react to the development, Loki lunged forward, his hand shooting out to claw at where the opposite wrist was still being held tightly.
And, though Loki’s nails were dull, bitten nearly to nubs by a long standing habit, they were able to dig deep scratches into the skin of his own wrist almost immediately, as he fought to break Thor’s hold.
“Stop!” Thor repeated on a hoarse cry, and reached out to grasp at Loki’s arm, again. “Loki, stop! You’ll hurt yourself.”
Either unhearing or simply uncaring, Loki jerked against the hold, his breaths leaving him in sharp pants that fanned out warmly against the side of Thor’s neck as he wavered unsteadily.
“Get it--” Loki whispered, so low Thor had to strain to hear him. “Get--”
“What?” Thor straightened, something like a distant hope flaring to life within his chest at what seemed like the first words Loki had spoken in the past several hours that were not simply desperate pleas.
“Get it out.” Loki breathed, his eyes remaining distant and vaguely haunted for a moment, before his face paled dramatically, and his gaze flickered up to meet Thor’s as something like horror dawned on his features.
“Get it out!” he howled, his elbows jerking back against Thor’s hold with a renewed vigour. “Get out! Get oo--oout!”
And, to Thor’s abject horror, Loki released a wretched shriek, before falling back and beginning to strike the back of his head fiercely against the wall behind.
Fighting the urge to fall back at the sheer volume of the cry, Thor grit his teeth before readjusting his hold to grip at Loki’s ramrod straight shoulders.
“Loki!” he cried, ignoring the tears that had begun to stream steadily down his left cheek, now. “Loki, fight it. You have to fight it!”
“Get out.” Loki hissed, before slamming his head back into the wall, hard enough to leave a small dent in the wood. “Please.”
“Loki, please.” Thor begged, a sob tearing its way out of his throat before he could stop it.
And, unsure of what else he could do, Thor surged forward, one arm winding tightly around Loki’s shoulders as the other hand rose to gently cup at the back of his brother’s head, his fingers tangling in the curls there.
“Please.” he repeated on a hoarse whisper as he buried his face in the side of Loki’s still too-warm neck. “Please. Please come back to me, brother. It’s alright. You’re safe. It’s me, it’s--” he broke off to heave a deep, trembling inhale.
Below him, Loki seemed to still, his breaths leaving him in short, rapid bursts, though he did not make an effort to move out from beneath the hold.
“It’s Thor.” Thor continued, something fluttering within his chest as Loki’s breaths audibly stuttered. “It’s your brother. It’s your Thor, Lo.”
Unable to hold himself back, now, Thor released a small sob, and tightened his hold on Loki.
“Please.” he whispered. “Loki…”
A long and heavy silence stretched out between them, then, the only sound in the room Thor continuing to heave for breath through his tears.
Then, miraculously, he felt a trembling hand brush just over his shoulder, before the fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, there.
“Thor?”
Thor inhaled sharply, and could not have helped the relieved sob that burst forth from his chest at the soft question even if he had tried.
“Loki!” he cried, and just barely had the presence of mind to stop himself before he bolted upright with enough force to topple the both of them off of the bed.
Instead, he forced himself to inhale steadily, once, before raising his head to meet Loki’s wide and somewhat fearful expression.
“Are you--” Thor swallowed down the question, for he knew the answer well enough, before attempting, again, “How are you feeling?”
“I--” Loki croaked, something like confusion creasing his features--
Before his expression crumpled abruptly, his eyes beginning to glisten before he slammed them forcefully shut.
“Oh, Loki.” Thor breathed, and leaned forward automatically to draw his brother closer, the hand at the back of Loki’s head tightening slightly as he tucked his face against his shoulder.
Loki fell into a brief fit of harsh coughs, then, and raised his free hand to grip at the front of Thor’s shirt, as if attempting desperately to ground himself.
“Shh.” Thor soothed, rocking the two of them slightly as Loki fought to regain control of his breathing. “Hush, now. It’s alright. You’re alright.”
When the fit passed, Loki all but slumped wearily against Thor’s side as he panted for air, his brow still worryingly warm as it brushed against the side of Thor’s neck.
In a moment, Thor considered, he would fetch another cold compress, and have Loki drink some water and take some of the pills Bruce had left.
In a moment, he thought, he might be able to convince himself to pull away.
Now, however, he allowed himself to pull Loki closer, the anxious flutter between his ribs calming somewhat as Loki exhaled a small sigh and all but melted into the embrace.
“You’re alright.” Thor repeated, beginning to run his hand between his brother’s sharp shoulder blades in large and soothing circles, and turned to press a long kiss into Loki’s tangled curls.
“We’re alright.”