Hidden Troubles

Chapter 17

"Good morrow, dear brother," said Thor. He set the tray of food aside on a table and sat on a stool next to Loki.

Loki glared at Thor, his jaw set and stiff as he edged away from him. The all too thin god had spent a week attached to the mysterious tube, confined to the medilab under the watchful eye of the multiple cameras installed and JARVIS, recording his every change in any of his monitored vitals. On the third day of his stay, they had to render him unconscious to re-break his ribs (a feat accomplished by the Hulk) and it had taken a week for even his accelerated healing to heal them properly. But last night, much to the thunder god's joy,  he'd finally been released into Thor's care, and they'd removed what he'd later discovered was a feeding tube, with the promise of actual edible food to be presented to him from here on out. Not that he wanted food. He'd quite happily starve.

But there were things he'd miss about the medilab. True, it was torturously boring in the evenings, and he often succumbed to nightmares of his torture. But...there was the issue of that damned red haired assassin. He missed her already. And the small longing to see her was only growing.

"Are you well?" Thor asked.

Loki's bottom jaw twitched with irritation, but he neither confirmed nor denied it.

Thor reached out to brush a loose strand of black hair from Loki's face. With his good hand, Loki immediately hit Thor's hand away, his eyes wide with indignation. Thor sucked in a sharp intake of breath.

"Brother..." sighed Thor.

Loki sneered and looked away, his hand still poised as if ready to strike Thor should he try anything else.

"Dr. Banner has told me you haven't been sleeping," said Thor. The shadows under Loki's eyes were a screaming sign of proof, contrasting with Loki's too pale skin.

Loki pressed his lips together but continued forcing his gaze on an invisible point on the ceiling.

"He does not want to give you Midgardian medicine to aid your sleep," said Thor, hoping to catch Loki into small talk, albeit one-sided. "He fears it might disrupt your healing process."

It nearly frightened him that he could barely hear Loki even breathe. Had it not been for the delicate rising of his chest, Thor would have thought Loki a reanimated corpse.

"Will you...will you speak to me, brother?"

Silence.

To desire death, to imitate death, but not to receive death.

Is that the truth?

"I'm sorry," Thor said. He withdrew his hand, numbed. "I'm sorry, Loki. For everything."

Thor bit down on the inside of his cheek. Only mere days ago Loki had sobbed on his shoulders. Did he not remember? Would he not put aside his pride to call for help? Just once?

Loki, let me help you, why won't you let me help you?

These phantoms stir at your words.

Lies!

The words of a trickster should never be believed!

No-

When Loki faced the ceiling again, Thor quietly reached to the table toward the tray he had brought in. A bowl of broth was set upon it, simple enough for Loki. Bruce had told Thor that by the looks of it, Loki hadn't eaten anything substantial for an alarming amount of time, and that his body might not accept food easily at first.