Ancients

In Which Weird Psychic Shit Happens

Shit, he thought. It wasn't supposed to have bled...maybe because I passed out?

Tony's voice was low, and dangerously soft.

"What happened?"

The demigod sighed, put his glass down.

Everyone was staring at him in concern, now. And he hated it.

Loki carefully peeled the fabric from his skin and revealed the thin gauze which had been of no help at all, thank you very much. He vanished it and revealed the stab wound. It was ghastly, a lot deeper than he'd remembered. Oh well.

"Holy shit-how-"

Wanda was ashen. She knew. Her eyes met his, and they were full of something Loki couldn't quite put his finger on.

Nevertheless he made a gesture with his fingers and a green light passed over his abdomen, healing him and leaving behind perfect, smooth skin.

Wanda briefly wondered how many times he could have done this, without anyone ever knowing.

Another swipe of his fingers cleaned his shirt. He picked up the glass and took a sip.

"Thank you, Steven." he nodded to the captain, who seemed to snap out of his shock. Tony seemed angry and Natasha was stoic as ever.

"I'm afraid I had a run-in with an old friend on Svartalfheim whilst you were out-well, I say 'old-friend'. He doesn't seem to like me now. Obviously."

The team looked skeptical. Bruce looked like he was going to be sick, and Loki was very confused.

"Guys-I fixed it. It's gone. There's nothing for you to worry about. I am now, well hydrated and pain-free. Well-" he seemed to catch himself in a lie. "Yeah, sure. Anyway, I'm off to bed. It's been quite the night."

He disappeared into the dark corridor.

- - -

"Do you have any idea what the fuck just happened?"

"I think he's telling the truth," Wanda cut in.

Tony spun to face her.

"Are you shitting me? He-how did he get to S-wherever it was he said? I thought the rainbow bridge was out."

Loki overheard the arguing as he walked away. He seriously hoped they would trust his ability to take care of himself like an adult and leave him the fuck alone.

He never needed anyone's help.

Well, if he were honest with himself-which he wasn't-there were times when he did. But nobody showed up, and he if could manage it then, he sure as hell could manage it now. Images of Wanda holding him in his memories flickered to spite him, but he wasn't about to drag her into this.

Too late.

Damn.

Get out of my head.

He shoved the thought out to her; it clattered through her mind.

No.

Her thoughts were smooth and low and slippery, like dark eels infecting his mind.

In a good way, though. They were nice eels.

Perhaps that was a terrible analogy.

What is it you want, Wanda?

Why'd you stab yourself?

He sucked in a breath, leaning against the door to his rooms before letting himself in, clutching the doorknob a little too tightly.

Why were you on the roof?

He sensed the hesitation, he could practically feel the cold panic dripping off of her. That was the problem with psychic links, they went both ways.

I was watching the stars. And think about Pietro. And thinking about death. But they were only thoughts. I can wait for him.

Shit. Loki had assumed she'd have thrown him some flimsy excuse he could use against her. But not only did she come clean, she established that she was very much sound of mind.

I did not do any damage, though. I wish I could say the same for you.

He panicked, backtracked to his original story.

I told you, I ran into an old friend. Well, foe.

You were screaming.

And what exactly was he supposed to say to that?

Loki floundered, his mental levees broke and the flood of thoughts he'd effectively trapped over the past two hours rushed forth in a great river of pain. He tried to divert it from her, to no avail. She was swept along.

What's the matter with me?

-I can't do this, I need-

-Hmm, which dagger shall I choose this time...-

-I wish Thor hated me, I wish I could just die without breaking his heart-

-I hate having to hide this, I should be allowed to do what I want to myself-

-Can't believe you actually ate lunch today, what is wrong with you-

-You deserve this, you bastard. This, and so much more-

He managed to calm down the thoughts but then images were revealed.

He was with the team in Seattle. A robot came for him; he did not fight back.

Loki was in his chambers at the palace. He held a thin knife and he ran it along his arms and stomach, carving shapes and letters deep into his muscle tissue. His whole body was coated in varying shades of red and blue like watercolours, he looked terrifyingly beautiful, bathed in a painting of his own calm agony, set off by the light of the setting sun.

He lay shivering and weak in a dark, cave-like place. He was beaten and used and discarded, and every fibre of his being detested everything that was happening. But he'd accepted it long ago: anything that came to him, he deserved. He wasn't about to give that up now.

Loki was lying on the carpet, a clone beating the life out of him, preaching the truth about himself like it was gospel and he was a naughty child in Sunday School. He ate it up eagerly, nodding along with every gruesome snap of bone and every savage kick to ancient wounds. Tears poured from his eyes and he bared them openly, ready for the punishment.

He was in what looked like a large swimming pool. An enchanted chain bound his foot to a heavy rock and dragged him down. Wanda explored this memory, and regretted it immediately. He knew there were easier ways of going about it but this way, he'd struggle. He'd thrash in the water until he died. That was what he deserved.

Loki stood in the shower, dagger in hand. He plunged it deep into his gut.

His head fell back, face contorted in a silent scream. To Wanda's horror, the only sound that came out was a plaintive croak. His eyes opened in the most vulnerable display of pure hatred and pleasure, and swallowed her whole in their depths.