The Chase: Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Rest, Replenish, and Recover

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone." ~Rose Kennedy.

...

Bruce and Thor found Steve standing watch outside Loki's room, in almost the exact place that they had left him an hour and a half ago. "Where's Tony?" Bruce questioned.

"He was dead on his feet, so I sent him to go catch some sleep in case we needed him later," Steve answered. His eyes didn't leave Loki's form, and his face remained stern, as if he were on duty for SHIELD rather than just keeping an eye on the trickster while Bruce gathered information.

"At ease, Captain," Bruce joked lightly, hoping to ease his friend's rigid frame for a minute or two. "I'm going to go check on our patient; see if I can figure out anything that might help," he told them. Steve gave a curt nod, giving his approval, and Bruce and Thor stepped inside the clear-walled medical observation lab.

He stepped over to the brightly lit monitors and checked the trickster's vitals, which didn't really help him much, considering he didn't have any sort of control group to compare them to. If he were comparing the results with that of a human, he would conclude that his blood pressure and heart rate were high, although not dangerously so. He took out a small flashlight, shining it across Loki's evergreens, glazed over with pain. "Pupils are responsive…" he observed.

Loki looked at him with irritated confusion, not quite understanding who this man was or why in Odin's name he was flooding his eyes with artificial light. Sweat poured down his face, and he clenched his teeth to try and bite away the acid that burned in his veins.

"Loki, my name is Doctor Banner. I'm here to try and help you," he said cautiously, still wary about being this close to the Trickster in the first place.

Loki's eyes glanced pleadingly to Thor, and Thor gave a nod in reply, confirming that what the mortal said was the truth. He looked at Bruce, finally deciding to let the physician try and help, at least for the moment, for which Bruce was relieved. "Right, so I'm going to ask a few questions, and I need you to answer them to the best of your ability. One, do you know where you are?"

The Trickster thought for a moment, and then shook his head minutely, having difficulty moving anything at all over his trembling. His limbs felt like burning lead, and even the slightest movement caused a flare of pain to shoot through him. "You are in Stark Tower, brother. These people are here to give you medical attention," Thor spoke up, inching closer to the bed in which Loki lay.

Bruce shot Thor a glance before continuing. "Thor tells me that your pain is being caused by an influx of magic in your system. Do you think this is the case?" he asked lightly.

Trying desperately to control the tremors that racked his frame, he answered, "Y-yes."

Bruce's brows furrowed in concern, and he looked over Loki's frail frame, unsure of how to proceed. He had come inside with the sole intention of observing and gathering data, but the Trickster's pale, frail form prompted him to take action. "I'm not sure how Jotun metabolisms work exactly, but I don't believe it will hurt to at least attempt to give you some painkillers, if not just to see how effective it works." He knew his phrasing reflected his hesitation and incompetence in the subject, but decided not to dwell on it, and he proceeded to rummage through a few drawers for some morphine. He walked over to the machine Loki was hooked up to, setting the vials down carefully on the counter beside the beeping mechanism.

The rest of the team had just barely managed to get an IV into Loki through his squirming and tremors when he had first arrived at the tower, and the machine was currently only feeding fluids into his system in an attempt to help Loki gain his strength back. Bruce filled a syringe with the painkillers, deciding to start off with a minute dose, and he injected it into the trickster's IV. He waited patiently for the drug to take effect, as he did not want to jump in with another dosage too soon and end up causing the Trickster to overdose, although he doubted such a thing would happen. He was still a god, after all. But Bruce wanted to play it safe all the same.

Thor wasn't nearly as patient, but he remained quiet, to his credit, and chose instead to pace or fume soundlessly rather than wreak havoc. His large form was hunched in one of the observation room's chairs, Mjölnir sitting at his feet. He rested his chin in his hands, his elbows on his knees, as if deep in thought. Bruce noted that same perplexed look on Thor's features was still present, but he didn't comment, instead turning his attention back to Loki.

After about thirty minutes with no effect, Bruce continued to up the dosage, hoping that he would be able to lessen Loki's pain, if only slightly. After a few hours filled with anticipation and worry, on both their parts, Bruce watched as Loki's shoulders finally began to relax, his breathing becoming less labored and his shaking lessening considerably.

A grin bloomed across Thor's features, and he stood from his hunch to walk over to his brother's side. "How do you fair, brother?" Thor beamed, his voice surprisingly quiet, glad to see that Loki's symptoms had lessened.

Loki dragged his eyes, dulled with fatigue, to Thor's, a brief smile of his own tugging at his lips. "Better," he breathed, relief layering his voice. He turned his emerald orbs to Bruce's. "Thank you, Doctor Banner," he murmured softly, gratitude in his voice, and his eyes fluttered shut, his pain lessened to the point where he could finally rest.

Bruce's lips twitched up, and he moved to throw away the empty vials, rubbing his hand blearily across his face. It had been a long -he glanced at his watch, eyes widening slightly- four hours, but he was glad to have been able to help, for the moment, anyway. "JARVIS, I'm going to need several more cases of morphine stocked. At least five times the normal amount," he instructed to the AI, talking softly to nowhere in particular. "Noted, sir," he chirped in rely. Bruce glanced out the clear walls to where Steve was slumped against the wall, eyes closed and his breathing regular, and he couldn't help but smile a little. He would have to wake him up and relieve him of duty on his way out.

"Uh, Thor, did you want to stay here with Loki? I'm sure we can find a spare room for you..." he asked, turning back to the Thunderer, who was still hovering over Loki anxiously. The god glanced up, watching Bruce as he stood near the door. He nodded, looking back down at Loki as he toyed with the words in his head, the same words he had been pondering over for the last few hours.

Bruce gave a small nod, turning to leave, when Thor spoke, causing Bruce to pause. "I can tell something is troubling you, friend Banner. You seem… different from when we last met." Thor did not take his eyes off of Loki's still form. "I may not be as skilled in the mystical arts as my brother, but I can tell when magic has been involved. You have been touched by it," he stated calmly, dragging his eyes from his brother to peer into Bruce's, a sad glint in the deep blues. "You were the subject of Stark's message to me?" he asked. His inflection rose slightly toward the end of the statement, turning it into a question, despite the fact that he was nearly certain of the answer. He sat next to Loki, his body turned to observe the scientist, large hands intertwined together and laying limply in his lap. He was not the simple, lumbering oaf Loki made him out to be; he understood when something was off, through either his honed instincts developed over the blood-filled centuries, or because he had grown up with the god of Mischief for a brother. This feeling of unease had not left him ever since Bruce had greeted the Thunderer when he had arrived.

Bruce wasn't sure how to respond, and he swallowed in an attempt to moisten his now parched airways. There was a minute presence in the back of his mind, different from the lumbering, brutish one that usually resided there, that knew Thor's words were true, causing Bruce to shiver under his coat. After a stretched moment between them, he nodded, his eyes shifting nervously to the wall to the left of him. "S-so what, I'm cursed? Someone has cast a spell on me or something?" he asked quietly, his anxiety ebbing its way into his voice. "You say I've been touched by magic, how do you mean?" A part of him had been wishing for this to be true, for Clint to be right, because then his problems would be fixable. It would mean he was not finally falling apart at the seams, and that it was some outside force at fault, rather than himself. But now that Thor had all but confirmed it… he wasn't sure what to think. He still had a hard time believing in magic at all, much less being 'touched by it'. His fingers knotted themselves together anxiously, his eyes pleading to Thor for answers. "What's happening to me?" he asked, his voice barely over a whisper.

Thor looked to Bruce with a glint of pity in his eyes, and he cast them down, a burdened sigh leaving his lips. "I do not know, friend Banner, but I will make the same promise that you have given me; I will do my best to help," Thor rose and strode across the room, placing a massive hand on his teammate's shoulder, a sad smile on his face. He towered over Bruce, and although he considered himself a god, he did not think any less of the man standing before him. He had seen what Bruce was capable of, of what he could unleash, and although he and Bruce's counterpart did not seem to get along all too well, he did not hold this against the scientist. He had seen the raw power that the beast had unleashed in battle, and he had nothing but respect for him. Even if he had punched him. Twice.

Bruce gave him a sad smile, a lump rising in his throat. "Thank you," he whispered, before hurriedly retreating from the room, the thought of waking Steve completely forgotten. He reached the elevator, and punched the appropriate buttons to be taken to his floor. It only took a few minutes, but time seemed to drag in the enclosed space. His reflection was somewhat disturbing, showing a man with emotion brimming in his eyes, a lost expression on his features. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to flash a bright blue, but Bruce shook off the thought, believing it to just be a trick of the light. When the doors finally opened, he rushed out, making his way down the hall and into his room, closing the door somewhat forcefully behind him. He kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his coat, throwing it over his desk chair without another thought. He didn't bother undressing himself any further, the fatigue from the last few hours washing over him, and he threw himself onto the bed.

Something was happening to him, and he didn't know what. The science that he had grown to rely on and trust in couldn't help him, and he didn't know what to do. There was no solution for him to find, no antidote, no plan to devise. He felt completely helpless, and it terrified him, bringing back memories of hiding himself away in his room, hiding from the all-too-real monster that plagued his life and his nightmares. A shudder ran down his spine, and he forced the memories away, curling in on himself slightly. He finally drifted into a fitful sleep some few hours later, the memories and dreams of running, of never-ending fog, of the cold night air freezing his skin, returning to him as he slept.