Above All Shadows [Loki Timetravel fic - Completed]

32. Lonely Paths

Loki let the doorway swing behind him. It slammed back into place with a thud loud enough to shake the walls, making the silence it left in its wake all the heavier for the contrast it conjured.

He sighed. It wasn't that he despised his new accommodation. This was far better than the cells of the Sanctuary or the cell Loki had enjoyed back on Asgard when his father had sentenced him to a lifetime of imprisonment.

It was the silence of this windowless cube, punctuated by the creak of the mattress when he sat down on the bed, that left him itching to put a hole through the walls. Spending time with Nebula, knowing that he had to keep up the pretence at all times, only made the itch worse. At least before he had Brunnhilde to share the madness with - someone to trade jokes with and to acknowledge the insanity of the world around them. Now only echoes of his internal thoughts remained. Never quite silent, always on edge. And every day he crept closer towards re-treading his original path and the reason he had come to the Sanctuary seemed further out of his grasp.

What if I go through with it? If I can wield the mind stone and the soul stone, while Thanos has none, surely that's a fight Thanos cannot win?

Loki gulped down a breath in an effort to quell his rebellious stomach. He was afraid, plain and simple. The thought of pitting himself openly against Thanos left him nauseous. But even if he ignored the bile building in the back of his mouth, it wasn't easy to come up with a scenario where he could challenge Thanos successfully. A spear to the throat? A spear afforded Loki longer reach than a knife, but Thor had practically cleaved Thanos' chest in two back in Wakanda and Thanos just about laughed in his face. A pitched force with the full might of the Einherjar at his back? Loki snorted. The Einherjar had fared so well against the Dark Elves and Hela. Meanwhile, Thanos had obliterated the famed Corps of the Nova Empire to the man.

'Cut his throat when he's least expecting it,' Loki muttered under his breath. 'I've always done my best work from the shadows. There's no reason not to work on my strengths when it comes to this.'

So, full steam ahead with the current plan and look out for the opportune moment, all else be damned.

Yet the conclusion did nothing to settle Loki's unease. He pulled off the rough cord holding his hair in place and walked over to the washbasin in the corner of the room. These quarters had communal bathrooms and showers, so the sink and the mirror above it were the sole instruments of personal hygiene to be found in the room. Loki washed the days' grime off his face and stared at himself in the mirror. The blue skin, the red eyes, the markings identifying him as the son of a father who had deemed him unworthy of living. The father Loki had killed twice.

If only Thanos were so easy to kill.

Loki's magic rolled over his skin, as much instinct as his own conscious choice. His eyes flicked back to the mirror. A more familiar, less intimidating face had peered back at him. But there were signs of his exploits in the Sanctuary if you looked. In many ways, his pale pseudo-Asgardian skin revealed what the blue did not: the shadows around his eyes from persistent insomnia, bruises from Nebula along the edge of his jaw, a scratch disappearing into his hairline from a stray Exian strike. The bruises and the scratch would heal by the morning, but undoubtedly, he would collect more scrapes and bruises tomorrow.

'Heimdall,' Loki said before he could give himself a chance to think better of what he was doing. Movement behind him. Loki swivelled around to meet Heimdall's eyes. It was only a projection, but Loki breathed easier nevertheless. He supposed it said something about the state of his mind that he was glad to see Heimdall. 'That was quick. Watching me, were you?'

'Your family worry about you.' The corner of Heimdall's lip twitched. 'And, you have taken a peculiar path; I am curious where it will lead.'

'Home, I hope.'