ᎄʜᎀ᎘᎛ᎇʀ sᮇᮠᮇɮ: ᎅʀᎏ᎘ / ᎄʜᎀ᎘᎛ᎇʀ ɎɪɎᎇ: ɪ᎛'s ɮᮏᮛ ғᎀɪʀ / ᎄʜᎀ᎘᎛ᎇʀ ᮛᮇɮ: ʟᎇ᎛ ᮍᮇ ᎋɎᎏᎡ

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Now in the infirmary, (Y/N) stood to the side with her arms folded, watching me place Ross down on the cot. I started fastening the restraints around the doctor's limbs, noticing how she winced as I pulled the straps tighter, causing the hard leather to cut into Ross' skin.

I'd be lying if I said that it hadn't brought me a tiny bit of joy, but it was really just to make sure that he couldn't escape.

Mostly.

In the distance, the Hulk roared, and as the sound carried through the air towards the two of us, we looked at each other with frowns.

"Go," I instructed immediately, knowing full well that they'd need all hands on deck to deal with that situation, "They'll need you."

She nodded and took steps to the door, but hesitated slightly as she glanced at Ross, still unresponsive. I rolled my eyes. She still didn't trust me not to hurt him. Like, honestly – if I was gonna murder him, I would've fucking done it already.

"I'm not gonna kill him. Just go."

With one last look at me and him, she vanished down the hallway.

Exhaling loudly, I placed my hands on my hips and turned to look at Ross. His eyes were still closed, but his muscles were beginning to twitch, meaning he was close to waking up.

I took up a position against the far right wall, watching and waiting. About three minutes later, his eyes started opening, and his head moved side to side as he attempted to shake off whatever after-effects he had.

"Ross."

I called out to him, trying to bring him back down to earth. I knew that his mind was a mess, and judging by the way he writhed at the sound of my voice, it had only driven him further into a distressed state.

Pulling up a chair, I sat across from him with my hands on my knees, hunched over slightly.

He strained against the bonds, breathing hard and shaking his head.

"Aaron," I tried again, voice calm and steady, "you're gonna be alright."

"You know that?" he snapped in an uncharacteristically harsh tone, "Is that what you know?"

Keeping my cool, I persisted. His response was good. Meant he was pushing through. "You gotta level out, it's gonna take time."

"You don't understand," he wheezed, desperately shaking his head, "Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Pull you out and stuff something else in? You know what it's like to be unmade?"

Of course I do.

"You've done well so far. Just keep pushing," I encouraged, ignoring his previous bout of questions.

It took several more agonizing minutes, but he managed to do just that, and what little control Loki had left over him began to steadily dissipate.

He was back.

Surveying his surroundings, he posed yet another query. "Why am I back?" he looked to me. "How did you get him out?"

"Cognitive recalibration," I answered simply, straightening up. "I choked you out."

"Thanks."

Didn't do it for you.

Standing up from his seat, I made my way over to the bed and removed the strap restraints.

"Loki," he said quietly, "He got away?"

I answered with a small nod, then locked gazes with him. "I don't suppose you know where?"

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