Loki's New Endgame

Chapter 10

"And you are certain this is going to work?" Loki asks.

"One-hundred percent," Bruce assures him.

"Hey, don't doubt the genius," Tony says halfheartedly, his attention largely focused on the regeneration cradle as he makes some final adjustments – which can't be a good sign. If they're going to use it on him, he'd like to know that it's actually done.

"Is it going to hurt?" Loki asks.

"Uh..." Bruce glances at Tony, who shrugs. "Probably not?"

"It won't," Clint says. "Not worse than it does now, at least."

Loki glances up at his mother warily, and she takes his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He gives her a small smile, and she returns it with one of her own.

Wanda walks up to him, peering down at him as he lies in the bed he's been stuck in near-constantly all week. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Loki replies.

Wanda's fingers hover by the sides of his head, and he can feel her power flowing through him. That familiar warmth penetrates his mind, and he revels in it, enjoying the serenity while he can. Her magic spreads through his body, and the pain that's haunted him for months begins to fade away.

When the numbness takes complete control, he slowly sits up. This is always the difficult part, he's found: forcing himself to get up after lying motionless for hours on end. And, of course, it doesn't help to have all of the Avengers watching him right now. At least when it's just him and Wanda, he can take as long as he needs, but right now, he's uncomfortably aware that he's holding them back from what they're really waiting for.

So he doesn't take as long as he usually would to orient himself. His head is fuzzy and he can hardly feel his limbs, but he doesn't want to waste everybody else's time watching him prepare to get up, so he just goes for it.

It's a bad idea.

His vision goes dark, and Thor's hands grabbing his waist are the only things that keep him from losing his balance and falling back onto the bed. He tries blinking rapidly a few times, but that doesn't help, so he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to clear that dark fog. It usually doesn't last this long.

Bruce sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Careful," he says, much too late for it to be a genuinely useful warning. "You've been bedridden so long, you're bound to have a bit of orthostatic hypotension."

Loki slowly opens his eyes, but his vision hasn't completely cleared up yet – not enough for him to focus on anything, at least, though that might just be because of the fuzzy, tingling feeling in his head. Though he can't see the scientist, he says to the man, "Do not speak to me in words I do not know. I don't like to be reminded that I am not the smartest person in the room."

That earns a few huffs of laughter, though he's not sure who they're from. He squints a little bit as he waits for his vision to go back to normal.

"Can I help?" Wanda asks.

Loki shakes his head. Everything is still a little fuzzy, but they may be from her magic as much as it is standing up too fast. He can see clearly enough now — at least enough that he can see the regeneration cradle — so he hits Thor's hands away and crosses the room.

Bruce mutters a quiet, "Careful," as he grabs Loki by the arm, helping him into the cradle. Tony, being the ever-helpful man he is, just stands there and watches. Loki does his best not to pay him any mind.

"Hope you're not claustrophobic," Tony remarks, already shutting the top of the cradle without waiting for a response.

Loki is not, in fact, claustrophobic, nor is he afraid of the dark. With that said, lying blinded in this cradle barely big enough to fit him is not the most comforting of experiences. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Maybe a week ago, he would have thought this was a trap, but, save the occasional snide remark from Tony, the Avengers have been nothing but nice to him since he dove forward in time. He has near-full confidence that this will work, and that it will work well.