DEADLOCK | the avengers/loki laufeyson

04. Start anew some place

"You organized my room," she stated as she sat on the chair. It was a statement. It was all she allowed herself to be selfish about. Just four words and she would move on. No more reproaches about something as insignificant as a change of décor.

He said, "It irked me. Just like how you do, you stupid mortal." But of course, Loki couldn't allow even those four words to pass.

"I like it how it was but I suppose we got to share now," she was annoyed at how the conversation was going. She wanted to ask him if he wanted to talk about whatever it was that had upset him so much. She wanted to be kind and caring as her heart told her to be but there was something about this tired-looking man with pale skin that dared the moonlight to touch it and deep hooded emerald eyes that seemed to alternately fill with hatred, self-loathing and confusion. Something that made her lose control, something that pressed her to do or say something that would elicit a true response out of him.

Right now, he looked fragile in his sweaty clothes that still had tears and bloodstains. His dark circles hadn't receded even though the black eye was fast discolouring. The scar across his nose and lips wasn't as swollen as before. His mouth was set in a stubborn grimace, as unforgiving as his eyes.

And then it hit her. He wanted to get under her skin, to make her angry, to make her shout and scream at him, to demand answers, to go out of the room while he battled his monsters alone.

She raised her head and pointed to the right side of the room, "That side is yours." She pointed to the other side, "This side is mine."

"I'll be gone after tomorrow," he commented dryly.

"Until then, then," she said. If he wanted to be stubborn, she was going to be no less. She settled in her chair, resting her feet against the side of his bed.

"Go away," he mumbled, laying down again and pulling the covers over his head. He didn't know how long he lay like that, listening for her receding footsteps but somewhere along the line, her even breathing, the fatigue of the last few days of torture and travel, his bruised bones and a combination of aches that encompassed his whole body dragged his eyelids close.

It hadn't even been two hours when he found himself locked in chains as burning lava engulfed him, Thanos' voice ringing in his ears as Frigga stood before him disowning him for his weakness, for his monstrosity.

He woke up, disoriented but thankful to have been shaken awake. He tried to breathe but his throat was raw and every gulp of air burned its way down just as the lava had burned away his flesh, eating into the bones. He wondered how long he had been screaming as the image of Frigga shouting disgusted words at him materialised into the scene of his bedroom.

He was finally aware of the other voice. The voice which was speaking slow but strong and he had to strain to make sense of the words, "...fine. I'm here. I'm here, okay? Just breathe. Everything will be fine."

He frowned through the haze of scorched breaths. What was Thor doing there? Who else could it be? No one talked to him with such unconditional care and love. His eyes wandering crazily about the room finally found control and turned to his side just as he realized he was gripping someone's hands tightly. Or maybe someone was gripping his hands tightly. He couldn't make sense of any of it.

The voice was pleading now, "Don't strain against it. You're bleeding. I promise, I'll take them off. I'll do it as soon as it's light."

"Naz," he croaked, finding her beside him, face pale with worry, her eyes huge with dilated pupils and concern.

She was touching his face now. Pushing back his hair, wiping his face with her sleeve. "Loki, Loki!"

He wanted to ask her what she was so relieved for, why her eyes were lined with tears, why she was still here. Why, why, why.