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Hold on hold on tight I’ll make everything all right
Wake up don’t go to sleep I’ll pray the lord your soul to keep
Don’t close your eyes, don’t close your eyes
Don’t sing your last lullaby ~Kix
The battle that day seemed to drag on forever, and even when it ‘ended’ nothing appeared to be solved. If anything, the benefits of their victory were heavily outweighed by the impact of a trifling object combined with a stroke of luck. When questioned later by the higher-ups at S.H.I.E.L.D., each of the Avengers basically had the same story to tell - one minute Thor was there in the thick of things and the next he was gone with none of them the wiser as to where the thunder god had gotten off to. Fury tried to give them a dressing-down, not that such tactics had ever worked before but old habits were truly hard to break; however, in the end even S.H.I.E.L.D.’s director had to admit that no one could have seen this coming. Thor - their seemingly invincible, all-powerful, thunder god - was dying, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.
As was expected, the Avengers refused to accept this conclusion without a fight, none of them possessing the desire to stand by and watch a close friend succumb to the Reaper’s scythe, helpless to do anything to prevent the inevitable. Bruce nearly worked himself into the ground as he aided S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medical staff in finding a cure for the mysterious ailment that was slowly killing his colleague, but all he got in return was a string of failures. Finally, Banner and the other doctors were forced to admit that whatever was killing Thor wasn’t in their capacity to cure, which meant that other options would have to be sought out.
Although Fury didn’t like the idea of contacting Asgard, he fancied the thought of his team going rogue even less, and deep down he knew that Stark’s threat to march up to Thor’s father and demand help was not an idle one. Having seen no other option, he reluctantly allowed Rogers and Barton to accompany their determined comrade to the Bifrost site, but only after he made them swear to be professionals. Entrance into Asgard hinged on the grace of Heimdall, and Fury knew good and well that the gatekeeper to Thor’s home wouldn’t grant entry to three raging mortals. The Avengers asked, begged, pleaded, screamed, and cursed Heimdall until their faces were flushed and their throats were raw, but the Bifrost remained closed to them. Finally, the three ceased their efforts and turned from the area in disgust, but not before Steve cast a despairing look to the heavens.
“You’re condemning your son to die in agony. Thor may brag about how his people are above us mere mortals but from what I’ve seen…you’re no better than anyone. Thor may understand why you’re doing this and he may still respect you, but the rest of us…”
“The rest of us think you’re a genuine dick.”
Clint didn’t bother to conceal his anger when he spat out his frank statement, and for once, Steve made no move to object to the archer’s choice of words. He himself may choose not to employ such colorful terminology, but Rogers couldn’t deny that Barton’s description of Asgard’s monarch was accurate. Besides, what was the point in playing nice when it was clear that no help would be coming from above any time soon? The blond flicked his gaze back up to the resolutely unchanging sky and quirked his lips into a bitter half-smile, giving the invisible ruler of Asgard a mock-salute.
“What he said,” Steve drawled, inclining his head in the direction of Clint’s retreating back.
“I guess this means we’re back to square one,” Tony sighed, but neither Barton nor Rogers chose to reply. They all knew that the sand was quickly fleeing the hourglass and taking their options along with it, but giving voice to such things would only serve to bring their spirits down further.
Just as Steve had predicted, Thor waved away their failed attempt to open the Bifrost, his wheezy laugh causing their hearts to constrict. “Tis alright, my friends,” the thunder god chuckled, but he was soon overcome by one of his regular coughing fits.
Seeing their normally vibrant comrade in such a vulnerable state proved to be too much for Tony and Clint to handle, and they quickly excused themselves from Thor’s room, mumbling incoherent excuses on their way out. Steve knew that both men would soon be turning to the bottle for some comfort, and the Captain envied their ability to drown themselves in the pleasant numbness of alcohol, for it was the one luxury that he would never have. Alas, Steve took a measure of solace in keeping a vigil over his dying teammate, providing Thor with basic care while everyone else scrambled to do something useful.
In the end, the Avengers’ worst enemy wasn’t the Skrull who had stabbed Thor with a poisoned spear; it was perhaps the cruelest villain of them all - Father Time. He took no prisoners and gave no quarter, and fighting against his will was akin to rolling a boulder up the side of a mountain. They were truly fighting a losing battle, and not a single one of them enjoyed the bitter taste of defeat that had begun to settle in the backs of their throats, heady and metallic. Steve was close to his own breaking point when he felt thick fingers wrap around one of his hands and squeeze, the pathetic amount of strength behind the grip reminding the Captain just how far-gone the man in the bed before him was.
“M-my brother…y-you must get m-my brother.”
The ache in Steve’s heart threatened to rend the organ in twain as he listened to the harsh croak slip from between Thor’s cracked lips, and the blond barely managed the strength to shake his head.
“You know I can’t do that, Thor. Fury would sooner turn to Von Doom for help than ask Loki,” Rogers replied shakily. He hated to add to his colleague’s suffering, but it was time that they all faced the fact that Loki was the last person who would ever come to Thor’s aid. However, instead of assuaging the thunder god, Steve’s words seemed to upset Thor, causing the man to work his jaw in a maddening attempt to speak again.
“C-can’t leave w-without saying g-goodbye,” Thor stammered, before collapsing back onto his pillows in a panting mess. He’d managed to exhaust his reserves of energy, but it seemed that he’d gotten his point across, for the Captain was now looking at him in understanding rather than sympathy. Thor knew that if any of his comrades could empathize with him on this matter it would be the one who had experienced the most loss, and as Steve gave him a mute nod of acknowledgment the god of thunder silently breathed a sigh of relief. His gambit had worked, and he would now be able to keep the promise that he had made to Loki when they had both been youths.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“H-have no fear, Captain, my brother shall find you.”
Ψ
Just as Steve had feared it would, Thor’s request went over about as well as a bouquet of lead balloons, and since he had been the one to deliver the message he was forced to bear the brunt of the backlash.
“You’re shitting me, right?”
“There’s no way that I’m allowing that son-of-a-bitch to set foot in here!”
“Why don’t we just put a bullet through Thor’s head and save the taxpayers the cost of repairing the damage that we know Loki would cause if we were to bring him here?”
“I’m not so sure that bringing Loki here is such a good idea, even if he could help us find a cure.”
Since he had clenched his eyes shut against the verbal onslaught, Rogers couldn’t be sure who had said what, but he knew for a fact that the last comment to reach his ears belonged to the meek voice of one Bruce Banner. “Don’t you guys understand? This isn’t about saving Thor anymore; it’s about giving our friend the chance to say goodbye to his brother,” the blond all but shouted, the words intended for everyone that was present but spoken directly to the abashed-looking scientist. “I know how you feel about Loki, but we have to honor Thor’s request; it’s-it’s the least we can do.”
All was quiet outside the medical ward as each Avenger and S.H.I.E.L.D. operative considered the Captain’s words, but slowly each and every one of them nodded in reluctant acquiescence, Tony being the only one to voice his assent aloud.
“Steve’s right, no one should be denied the chance to say goodbye to family,” the Iron Man murmured to himself, brown eyes lost in thought as his mind replayed visions from his own past. He knew what it was like to lose a family member without being able to say a proper goodbye, and Tony wouldn’t wish that fate on his friend, even if the man Thor wished to say goodbye to would try and rob the thunder god of his final breath by strangling him.
The other Avengers put forth no objection to Steve’s request that he be the one to inform Loki, partly because deep down none of them wished to be the bearer of such news but mostly because Rogers was the best at handling his emotions. Armed with his solemn task, the Captain set out to locate Thor’s troublesome sibling only to find the Trickster waiting for him not but a mile from the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, Loki’s face a twisted mask of barely controlled wrath. Clearly, Thor had not been exaggerating when he’d said that his brother would find them, and judging by the look he wore Steve assumed that Loki was aware of his brother’s condition. That being said, Rogers was not prepared to have the wind knocked out of him as Loki unexpectedly lunged at him and sent him sprawling to the pavement, the Captain’s back protesting the rough treatment of hitting cement with only the thin fabric of his uniform for protection.
“What’s happened to my brother?” Loki snarled, spindly fingers gripping handfuls of blue material in order to drag Steve’s face closer to his own. At this distance, Rogers could see slivers of red amidst the Trickster’s green irises, and knowing what that meant he began to regret volunteering for this assignment.
“H-he was stabbed by a Skrull, and now he’s dying,” the blond panted, watching in morbid fascination as Loki’s snarling visage momentarily slipped. “He asked to see you.”
“I-I don’t understand. My brother is the finest warrior I’ve ever known; how could he have been felled by one of those reptilian half-wits?”
It was as if a switch had been flipped inside the Trickster’s head, and Loki slithered off of Rogers’s chest as quickly as he’d pounced on it, retreating back into a hunched ball and leaving a perplexed Captain America to stare up at him in concern. After observing the now-muttering Trickster for a few minutes, it became clear to Steve that Loki was lost in his own world and nothing save for interference on his part would get the man to budge.
“I wish I could tell you more, but right now I think it would be best if you just came with me,” Rogers stated lowly and gently pulled an unresisting Loki to his feet.
Unlike their encounters in the past, the Trickster willingly allowed Steve to guide him back to the underground facility without making so much as a peep, leaving the blond to yearn for the snarky banter that the other man was famous for. A bitter, sarcastic Loki was better than a quiet, melancholic Loki as far as Steve was concerned. However, the most disconcerting aspect of their journey to the medical ward wasn’t Loki’s silence; it was the way that he ignored the uneasy glances sent his way by numerous S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, including Agent Coulson and Director Fury.
Upon noticing the Trickster’s distinct lack of responsiveness, even the wary Avengers had to admit that this had been the right call, for none had seen Loki as subdued as he was now. He looked like a condemned man on his way to the gallows as Steve led him to Thor’s room, but his opponents took no pleasure from the sight, the various figures watching the Trickster with pity in their eyes. No one deserved to have such a fate cast upon them, not even Loki.
Ψ
Out of respect for the brothers, Steve let Loki into Thor’s room and closed the door behind the Trickster, thereby allowing the men some privacy in which they could bid one another farewell. Loki had never appreciated the Captain more, for no sooner had the door sealed did he feel his legs begin to fold underneath him, and the Trickster allowed himself to collapse next to his prone brother in an ungainly heap.
“You fool, how could you do this to me?”
The words were nothing more than a strangled sob as Loki finally gave in to the ever-present urge to hit his brother and slapped a gray-tinged cheek, a choked whine escaping his mouth when there was no response from the man on the bed. No, no, this couldn’t be happening, not again. The Trickster began to shake his brother in a desperate search for the missing spark of life, but all he managed to elicit from the man was a low groan.
“Wake up, you great oaf, it isn’t your time yet,” Loki sniffed, clutching at one of Thor’s unnaturally cool hands. “I forbid you to leave me like this…tis not fair.” This time, he received a pained groan and small shift from the figure next to him, and Loki unconsciously felt his spine straighten in determination. “Fine, have it your way then,” he muttered and turned to straddle his brother’s waist. “I’ll be damned if I let you fall to an overgrown lizard,” and with that declaration Loki lowered his mouth until it hovered over his brother’s.
Since Thor was unable to provide assistance, the Trickster was forced to keep his brother’s mouth open for the duration of his spell, leaving them in a most compromising position. Such things had never bothered Loki in the past, but he had a feeling that Thor’s compatriots would not take kindly to walking in and finding him atop his brother’s chest, their heads bent together in what could only be described as an intimate position. Seeing as his curtain of raven locks concealed the golden light that issued from his mouth and removed the ailment from his brother’s body, he found it highly doubtful that the Avengers would let him get a word out before they cut him down. Thankfully, the Trickster was able to draw out the vestiges of the poison without interruption, but just like the last time he’d done this Loki was left deprived of even the barest amount of strength.
“Everything’s better now, Thor; I’ve fixed it so you can wake up,” the Trickster slurred, before promptly collapsing on top of the body beneath him. ‘Just a short nap to recover my faculties and then I’ll seek out the Skrull who dared to take away my Thor,’ Loki vowed to himself, heavy-lidded eyes closing on a sigh.
When Steve poked his head inside the room ten minutes later, he found his comrade sitting up in bed, a curled Loki fast asleep in his lap. The sight was so surprising that Rogers found himself whispering, “H-how?” without even meaning to.
“My brother and I share a common weakness, one that I fear will ultimately destroy us both,” Thor murmured, eyes remaining fixed on his brother’s sleep-slackened features. “When we were young, my brother brought me back from the brink of death, and it nearly cost him his own life. Once Loki had recovered, I asked him why he’d done such a thing, and he’d said it was because I’d fallen asleep before he could say goodbye. When I promised him that I would never leave him without saying goodbye I thought that would be the end of it…but it looks as if I was wrong.”
Steve detected the underlying worry that laced Thor’s voice, but it appeared that Loki was simply resting. At least he hoped that Loki was simply resting. “It looks like we owe Loki big time,” he remarked wryly, a soft smile curling his lips as he prepared to duck back out again. The Trickster didn’t look to be going anywhere, and Rogers hated to intrude on his teammate’s privacy more than he already had. It would be better if he went and informed the others of Thor’s recovery, that way they wouldn’t faint from the shock of seeing their comrade arise from his sickbed as if this whole incident had never happened.
Ψ
When Thor next awoke, his arms were empty and his sheets were tucked around him, an old habit that Loki had obviously not managed to break. Although he was disappointed that his brother had chosen not to stay, Thor couldn’t say that he blamed him, for Loki had never been good with the particularities that followed such intimate exchanges. Even though they hadn’t done anything that could be construed as ‘intimate’ per se, in Loki’s mind the exchanging of auras was no different than the joining of bodies, which was why he took great pains to avoid talking about the incident from their youth. It was an annoying practice that Thor was determined to rid his brother of, but first he needed to reassure the rest of his colleagues that he was indeed recovered.
“I see that you’re up and about.”
Thor turned towards the door and froze at the sight that greeted him – his brother in full armor with Skrull blood splashed over the golden plates. “I see that you’ve been busy,” he replied quietly, for he knew better than to ask what the man had been up to.
“Indeed I have,” Loki whispered, and he wasted no time in closing the gap between them. “You didn’t expect me to let such an affront go unpunished, did you?”
Thor simply smiled and gently removed his brother’s helmet, uncaring about the smudges of blood that transferred to his palms. “I expected you to say goodbye and let that be the end of it, Loki,” but the Trickster shook his head stubbornly.
“I couldn’t allow a creature who wore my face to harm you and get away with it,” Loki muttered, before plastering himself to the blond’s front and burying his face in the crook of Thor’s neck.
The thunder god’s grin threatened to split his face in half as he drew the other man even closer, whispering, “I love you too,” into a nearby ear. He never asked how Loki knew about the identity that the Skrull who had attacked him had taken on, and his brother never offered the information, both choosing to forget it in favor of clinging to each other.
Later that evening when the Avengers came to see if Thor was finally ready to be discharged, they discovered an empty room and a bed loaded with blood-covered armor. No one had to ask who the owner of said armor was, for Loki’s signature helmet sill rested at the end of Thor’s bed; the true question was what the Trickster had been doing to get that amount of blood on him.
“Is that Skrull blood?”
“I believe it is, Tony,” Bruce mumbled, holding up a shiny gauntlet for a closer inspection.
“So does this mean we don’t need to worry about Thor and Loki killing each other?”
“I think we can safely say that they’re both in good hands, Tony,” Steve smirked. Unbeknownst to the others, Thor and Loki were currently sound asleep upstairs in Thor’s room, both brothers curled up in an intricate knot of limbs, and Rogers made sure that his other comrades left them that way for the rest of the night.