Work Text
Thanos was gone. So was half of all life.
(It’s all my fault.)
*** In a small clearing in the forest, the remaining Avengers gather around Vision’s colorless corpse. The air is heavy with shock, horror, and grief (or maybe that’s just the ashes). Thor looks up to the cloudy sky, the heavens a reflection of his need to release all of the pent-up emotions. He must keep the rain at bay, though, for he does not want the water to wash away what remains of lost comrades, of lost family and friends. After what seems like an eternity, his fellow compatriots, both known and unknown, begin to head across the sprawling field to what looks like a city. “You coming, Thor?” He turns his gaze to meet that of Natasha, who, he noticed, now sported platinum blonde locks. (Everyone has changed. everything has changed.) He gave her a strained smile. “I think I’ll stay out here for a little while, but thank you.” She nodded, flashing him a quick smile. “Ok. Once you enter the city, you can probably ask any of the female guards dressed in red to escort you to the palace. If you need to, just tell ‘em you’re an Avenger.” With a final nod, Natasha turns and follows the others. Now alone, Thor sighs, leaning back against a tree and sliding down until he is sitting on the uneven forest floor.
(You were destined to lose. You are destined to be alone.)
He inhales, his breath rattling in his throat. (Why do you deserve to still breathe when billions of others do not? What makes you worthy of such a privilege?) He tilts his head up against the tree trunk, focusing on the dense foliage above him. He clenches his fists as he tries to keep the weather at bay, digging his fingernails into his skin. The pain grounds him. *** Thor remembers part of a nursery rhyme he had heard once on Midgard. He doesn’t remember how he heard it or where.
Ashes ashes
We all fall down
*** He doesn’t know how long he sits there, only that it’s sunset when he hears a soft whirring sound. Turning his head, he sees Bruce riding what looks to be a hoverbike. He stops the bike a couple of feet away, turning it off and walking towards him. “Hey, Thor.” He looks up at Bruce, his chocolate brown eyes filled with sadness. “It’s getting kinda late and I didn’t think you’d exactly want to spend the night out here… we’re all kinda worried about you, ya know?” He chuckles uneasily. It sounds forced. “I, uh, like the eye, by the way… but d’you wanna come back with me? We’re not trying to force you to or anything, but…” Thor doesn’t want to cause his friends any more strife. He rises and nods, eliciting a half smile from Bruce. “Oh, good.” He says, looking somewhat relieved. Bruce begins walking back to the bike as Thor follows. “You’re gonna have to ride behind me, sorry.” Thor shrugs nonchalantly. Bruce gets onto the bike, scooching forward so that Thor can fit behind him. As Bruce starts the bike, Thor wraps his arms around his middle. Bruce tenses momentarily at the unexpected contact before relaxing and driving across the war-torn landscape and into the city. *** The towering silver spires of of this place (Wakanda, Bruce told him) remind him of Asgard. It’s not the same, no, but it’s enough to render him unable to look up. *** Thor remembers walking into the palace for the last time and seeing crumbled ruins on the floor.
(It seems our father’s solution to every problem is to cover it up)
His cracked face stares back at him.
(Or to cast it out)
He looks up and sees the fresco that laid beneath.
(she wielded Mjolnir too)
(He told you you were worthy)
(He said the same thing to me)
He wonders if he was ever really worthy at all. *** As he guides Thor to his room, Bruce fills the silence by telling Thor a bit about Wakanda. Not only are they much more technologically advanced than the rest of Midgard (like Asgard), but they have an elite force of all-female warriors known as the Dora Milaje (like the Valkyries). His losses seem to haunt him wherever he goes. *** After taking him to his room and telling him a couple more things he should know, Bruce leaves Thor to his thoughts. There’s a large window looking out at the battlefield. Thor can see the large crater he had created upon his entry into the battle. He yanks the heavy curtains shut. *** Despite knowing where and how to receive sustenance, Thor does not do so. Everything would probably taste like dust, anyway. However, after around three days of sitting in seclusion in his room (He does a lot of pacing. No sleeping, though), only coming out at night to train in the course that had been designed by the King’s (he’s gone now though. Guess why?) genius younger sister, Steve knocks on his door.
(Steve has changed a lot, too. He’s… more guarded. Sadder, too.)
“Thor? It’s Steve. You there?” Thor walks over and opens the door. Steve, whose fist is raised in a way that suggests he was going to knock again, looks slightly taken aback that Thor answered so quickly. However, he quickly regathers himself. “Thor… I haven’t seen you since…” He swallows, eyes flickering down for second before he continues, his voice tinged with sadness. “Well, since. Have you… eaten, at all?” Thor shrugs. He doesn’t actually remember the last time he had a substantial meal. He had some bland soup on the Guardian’s ship after… (No don’t go there Thor) but he hasn’t eaten since then, despite stealing some of their food. He didn’t eat on the The Statesman; food was scarce and he needed it less than others. (But it doesn’t matter, now, does it?) (No, stop it no don’t—) “...Thor?” Steve’s voice halts his spiraling thoughts. He looks up to see the man staring at him with some concern. “Do you… wanna talk about anything? I’m here, you know, if you need a listening ear.” He offers Thor a half-smile. (Yes No) Thor shakes head. While he tries to hide it, Thor can sense that Steve’s worry has increased.
(He shouldn’t worry about me he has enough going on say something you oaf)
The words seem to die in his throat. He instead opts for a smile (which he is 90% sure looks more like a grimace), and, after bowing away from the door, slowly shuts it. He suddenly feels very nauseated. Back against the door, Thor sits on the ground and curls into himself, one arm wrapped around his middle while his other hand clutches his head.
(What is happening to me?)
*** They leave Wakanda after five days, taking a plane to the New Avengers Compound.
(Thor could’ve taken them there in seconds via the Bifrost, but he can’t bring himself to pick Stormbreaker back up… he trusts that it’ll be there when he needs it)
Being back at the compound brings back memories of… simpler times. Of times when his ears did not echo with the screams of the dead and dying, of times when he could close his eyes without seeing flashes of death and blood and ashes and— He forces himself back.
(Get a grip, Thor!)
They all disperse to their rooms. When Thor reaches his, he cannot help but notice how dusty everything is. It’s just how he left it all those years ago. It’s like a window to his past. He almost doesn’t want to walk in, fearing he'll ruin the pristine stillness that permeates the room. He goes to training room. He’ll deal with this later. *** When he is feeling antsy, Thor will sometimes walk around the compound.
(But if you put the hammer in an elevator…)
(It would still go up)
(Elevator’s not worthy)
(How could you be worthy?)
Thor shakes his head. (Stop it brain shut up) As he passes by one of the common rooms, he sees the Rabbit tinkering with some scraps while Rhodes sits on the couch, watching the TV.
“...General Thaddeus ‘Thunderbolt’ Ross has just been sworn in as President of the United States after what many are calling ‘The Decimation.’ Despite everything that has occurred, the now-President Ross…”
Rhodes spots Thor and gives him a wave. “Hey, Thor,” he says, stumbling to his feet. He wears metal braces around his legs, now. Thor doesn’t know why and can’t bring himself to ask. He’s about to leave when he hears Rhodes’ voice again. “Oh, can you meet me in the conference room two doors down? I want to brief you and Bruce on… well, everything that’s gone on.” Thor nods and heads to the conference room. *** After about five minutes of waiting, Rhodes comes into the room, Bruce in tow. Bruce offers Thor a small smile and a wave, which Thor returns in kind. Rhodes sits down at the head of the table. “Ok,” he begins. “I don’t know how much you guys know about what went these past years, but… a lot has changed.” To Thor’s surprise, Bruce responded. “I know Cap and Tony had a falling-out and that Avengers split up… but that’s it.” The Avengers split up? Sure, they weren’t the perfect team; they had their disagreements and squabbles, but at the end of the day, they got along pretty well. So what the Hel happened? Rhodes begins to explain what went down, starting the the incident in Lagos. After he starts to cover the Sokovia Accords (why does this matter now?) and a man named “Ross,” Bruce interrupts. “Ross? As in… Thaddeus Ross?” “Yeah, I know, he’s kind of a piece of shit, but—” “Kind of? He’s a total piece of shit! He’s part of the reason I had to go off the grid! He hunted me! He tried to experiment on me! Are you seriously going to sit here and tell me that you guys worked with him? I know Tony knew about what he did, because I told him! Why the hell—” Thor places a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, causing Bruce to stop in his tracks. He looks at Thor, his eyes a radioactive green. Bruce closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. Opening them up again, he sighs, looking at Thor. His eyes have returned to their natural chocolate brown. “Thanks,” he says. Thor nods in return, removing his hand from Bruce’s shoulder. “Sorry,” Bruce says sheepishly, looking at Rhodes. Rhodes dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “It’s okay, dude. I get it. I’m not on such great terms with the guy at the moment, either. The whole thing was less about who was in charge and more about the principle of accountability. And honestly, looking back, while the Accords may have been a good idea, they were implemented poorly. I just wanted to let you guys know so that you weren’t caught off by anything that might go down, you know?” They both nodded, and Rhodes continued, explaining everything from the bombing at the UN meeting to the battle at the airport (Well that explains the leg braces). Thor wanted to scream.
(The fought over a couple pieces of paper?!)
(So what if Steve’s friend killed Tony’s parents?! He obviously didn’t do it of his own accord!) (You think you’ve had a shitty year? I had to blow up my home to defeat the evil sister I never knew I had! I lost… I lost…) “So, what happened with you guys?” He hears Rhodes ask.
(NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE)
He bolts out of his chair and walks out, making a beeline for the punching bags. *** “Thor, when was the last time you slept?”
(I don’t know Natasha why does it matter)
“Hey Thor I made pancakes. Want some?”
(No thank you Steve please don’t make me eat)
“No offense Sparky, but ya look like crap.”
(Jeez even the Rabbit’s hounding me why can’t I catch a break)
(I’m so tired)
(Then go to sleep)
(No no not like that)
He wishes he could disappear. *** One of his old helmets sits on a shelf in his room. He can’t help but think back to his botched coronation and his subsequent exile to Midgard.
(You are unworthy of this Realm)
(Asgard is gone)
(Unworthy of your title)
(Thor, King of Nothing)
(Unworthy of the loved ones you’ve betrayed)
(You let them die)
(You are alone)
*** He refuses to touch anything in his room besides his wardrobe and the window seat. After Ultron, but before he had left to search for—them (blasted colored rocks) —he had spent about a week or so at the compound. One night, after another foreboding nightmare, he had taken some extra pillows and blankets (which there had been a surprising abundance of) and made himself a little nest on the window seat. He’s always liked looking out the window. But other than that, he wants to preserve the memories. He also can’t bring himself to get into bed. Wrapping himself in a fluffy blanket, he looks outside. He likes his window. It’s big and allows him to see more of the sprawling compound, as well as the forest beyond. The green foliage of the trees suddenly blurs together. He blinks rapidly, trying to snap out of it.
(Hm that pillow looks ni—NO STAY AWAKE)
His exhaustion and utter lack of sleep eventually overcome him. ***
(Purple permeates every fiber of his being as the Mad Titan pushes the pulsing stone against his skin)
(Fire and heat and light)
(Have to keep it open they need me)
(For Asgard and for Heimdall and for Loki)
(I assure you brother, the sun will shine on us again)
(Liesmith until the very end, Loki)
(I can still save you)
(You should’ve gone for the head)
(You really are the worst, brother is that really the last thing I said to him)
(He died thinking I hated him he doesn’t didn’t know I love loved him)
(I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry)
(We are all dead)
(Heimdall why did you go)
(Bodies of Asgardians and Sakaaran refugees, both young and old but died fighting nonetheless)
(Mother and Father and Mjolnir and Hogun and Fandral and Volstagg and Sif [she never returned from Alfheim, Loki said] and Asgard [Asgard is not a place it’s a people but the people are all gone] and Heimdall and Loki and—) (He can’t move he can’t scream Loki stop don’t BROTHER NO—) (Let me die oh gods please just let me die)
(You're a destroyer, Odinson)
(Asgard exploding into thousands and thousands of pieces)
(The Statesman slowly succumbing to the Power Stone’s flames)
(See where your power leads)
(SNAP ) *** His eyes snap open as he gasps for breath, chest heaving. Thunder crashes outside as the the torrential downpour thrashes his window. (I can’t breathe) He thinks he hears FRIDAY’s semi-concerned voice but he doesn’t care he needs to get out so he flips up the latch of the window shoves it open and launches himself through it. He stumbles but sticks the landing, setting out at a sprint towards the woods. *** The ground is slick. He slips quite a few times, but is able to keep his footing. He half-wishes the rain would drown him.
(Where are you running to?)
(I don’t know leave me alone)
He barrels into the forest, uncaring of the scratches he sustains on his arms or the twigs that dig into his bare feet. The branches look like mangled hands—fingers outstretched, but cries unanswered. He can still hear the screams, He keeps running. (What are you running from?)
(You can’t run from yourself, you know)
(You can’t outrun fate)
(JUST LET ME GO—) He stumbles on a tree root and tumbles to the ground, catching himself on his hands and knees. He stays like that, panting.
(What are you, a child? Get up, keep running)
(I’m so tired)
He looks up as lightning illuminates the sky.
(You could summon your axe and transport yourself to the ruins of Asgard)
(You could go home)
Shakily, he rises to his feet, using the trunk of a nearby tree for support.
(I’m only alive because fate wants me alive)
(Fate wants you dead) He feels the static in the air and the lightning racing through his veins. Thor holds out his hand. “Thor!” He whips his head around to see Natasha and Steve cautiously approach from behind some trees. (Oh no no no no they’re going to ruin everything)
(Why won’t they stop please leave me alone)
Steve takes a hesitant step forward. Thor stands his ground, right hand still outstretched. “Thor, we’re really worried about you. We’re here for you. We want to help you.”
(You can’t help me)
(You don’t understand you can never understand what it’s like to lose everything)
“Thor, it’s raining and you’re wearing a t-shirt, sweatpants, and no shoes. You should come inside and dry off.” She holds her hands up in a submissive sort of manner, despite the fact that he knows she is surely armed to the tooth. It’s a pitiful attempt and she knows it. Thor doesn’t even justify it with a response. “Thor, just put your hand down and come back with us,” Steve pleads, his tone bordering on desperate. “Please.” Thor feels sparks race across the knuckles of his left hand and he clenches it into a fist. Lightning strikes overhead.
(I’m lost)
(I’m lost and I wanna go home)
(Please let me go home)
He takes a step back. An arrow lands in the trunk of a tree. That tree would’ve been him.
(Clint is here)
(When did he get here?)
He has a split second to prepare himself before Natasha and Steve are coming right at him. While Natasha comes right at him, Steve attempts to come around from the back and lock his arms. Pushing back against Steve, Thor kicks at Natasha and flips Steve over him.
(If they want a fight, they’re going to get a fight)
(Why are you fighting your friends?)
(Go home go home let me go)
The wind howls in pain as thunder explodes around them. The world glows a bright bluish-white as he feels the familiar crackling of energy dancing across his skin. Then everything shatters, and he knows no more.
(Finally)
***
Thor? Are you awake?
'M now.
Can… can I sleep with you tonight?
Nightmare?
Mmhm.
Come ‘ere, Lokes.
Would you like to talk about it?
Mm-mm.
Okay.
Thor?
Yes, Loki?
If… if I were to be… hurt… you would come and help me, right?
Nothing in all the Nine Realms could stop me.
Promise?
Promise.
(Your word means nothing, Odinson)
(Look where he is now)
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Thor slowly regains consciousness. He attempts to open his eyes, but his eyelids feel stuck together. His ears feel like they’re stuffed with wax and his memories are shrouded in thick fog. The throbbing pain in his head tells him that no, he is not in Valhalla.
(Why?)
Wait. Asgard. He was going to go to Asgard.
(The ruins of Asgard)
(You blew it up)
(You’ll never go home again)
(You’ll never see them again)
(No not true I will I will soon you’ll see) He sighs shakily, and eventually opens his eyes ever-so-slowly. While his vision is blurry, he can see lots of… white. He can feel a needle in his arm. (Oh no)
(Needles mean hospitals)
(Or worse)
He feels his heart beat faster as he tries to pull out the needle. He can’t move his arms. He looks down and sees that his wrists are enclosed in restraints.
(It’s worse it’s worse it’s worse)
(You deserve it)
(Why won’t you let me GO—?!)
He pulls at the restraints, attempting to disconnect them from the bed frame, but to no avail. As he tries to gain traction with his feet, he finds that his ankles are bound, as well.
(No no no no no)
(Not again not again)
(His best friend brutally skewered after his final heroic act)
(You are helpless)
(They will all be killed in front of you and there’s nothing you can do to stop it)
(The resounding crack of his brother’s neck) (The irrevocable thump of his body as it hit the ground) (You are alone) (Let me out let me out LET ME OUT —) A scream erupts from his throat. Everything is a blur. He sees people and semblances of faces and he thinks he hears familiar voices but doesn’t quite know whether they’re real. He attempts to reach for his powers but they’re just out of reach—
(Just like Loki was when he fell)
(So close yet so far)
And then the white is fading, fading, fading, and all he can think of is failure. *** He opens his eyes. It’s dark, but he can still discern enough details to know that he’s in the same room he was in before. He can still feel the bindings on his wrists and ankles, and is somewhat aware that he is starting to panic. A hand slips into his. “Shhh. It’s okay, Thor. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He recognizes the soothing voice. Bruce, his mind tells him. It’s Bruce.
(How can he still bear to be around you?)
He can’t quite find the words and lets out a soft whine instead, trying to pull his hand away from Bruce’s.
(You never were good with words. That was Loki)
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here Thor.”
(If you were here I might even give you a hug)
(I’m here)
(Not anymore)
(STOP)
His breath catches. Bruce’s hand squeezes his. “I’m sorry about the restraints… no one wanted to do it, but… we… didn’t want to take any risks…” Thor didn’t respond, twisting his head to face the opposite direction. The hand eventually slips away. *** Thor hates the restraints. He really, really hates the restraints.
(Couldn’t even save your own brother, let alone half the Universe)
(Helpless, worthless, weak) He twists and yanks at the ones around his wrists until blood drips down onto the white sheets. Drip, drip, drip. As soon as the others notice, they immediately free his wrists and ankles and bandage his wounds, and leave with the promise to implement more severe measures if needed. Thor sees the pity in their eyes and hates them for it. *** The days and nights come and go. Thor doesn’t really pay attention to that, anyway; it doesn’t matter to him. Time just seems to be one endless stream of agony. He doesn’t want to face the real world, but his mind isn’t much better. Nowhere is safe. *** Thor doesn’t like sleeping. Sure, every second is a waking nightmare, but he’d much rather be awake to (control, suppress, banish, kill) manage his dark thoughts. Sleep? He doesn’t need sleep.
(He can’t control them when he sleeps)
(When he sleeps… nightmares reign)
(Nightmares, or the truth?)
*** He wakes with a strangled scream and shoots upwards. With only a semblance of his bearings, Thor staggers out of bed and to the thin slat of light he knows to be the doorway to the bathroom. He barrels into the bathroom and stumbles over to the toilet, dry-heaving. There is nothing for his stomach to expel. He collapses against the opposite wall, his breaths fast and shaky. What his nightmare was about, he doesn’t know. Considering his waking reaction to it, he’s somewhat glad he can’t remember.
(Look how far you’ve fallen)
(SHUT UP)
Grabbing the counter of the small vanity for support, Thor hoists himself up. He catches a glimpse of the mirror and suddenly can’t look away. The person staring back at him is pale and gaunt, with mismatched eyes and deep, dark, smudges under them. A long scar traces a jagged path down the right side of his face.
(So simple even a blind man could see it)
(Are you really so dense that you can’t recognize your own face in the mirror?)
(What has become of the Golden Son?)
(It was never real, just a cover-up)
(Now you see)
Thor presses the heels of his palms to his forehead, pulling adamantly at what little hair he has left. (Stop STOP STOP) The figure in the mirror mimics his movements.
(It hurts, doesn’t it? Being lied to)
(Yes yes it hurts it hurts make it stop)
(Oh gods oh gods oh gods)
The pit in his stomach grows and festers and is eating at him, tearing at him and tears prick at his eyes and everything burns why won’t it stop — (You’re nothing)
(
NO
)
With an anguished shout, Thor punches the mirror. Lightning crackles, arcing down his arms and dancing across his knuckles. The force and energy sends Thor reeling back and he slams into the opposite wall, collapsing in a broken heap. Shattered glass surrounds him; many of the shards are marred by flecks of red. He thinks he should be feeling something, but everything is numb. “Thor!” He glances over and sees two figures, but his frantic mind is unable to put names to the faces. There’s too much going on. His heart is attempting to punch it’s way out of his chest and his brain won’t stop, can’t stop, but it needs to stop everything just needs to sto — A hand is gently squeezing his shoulder.
(Focus. Fo-cus.)
(Broken weapons and bodies litter the floor as people scream and scream and) “ ... eathe Thor. Deep breaths. Just breathe with me, okay? Can you look at me?” ( Breathe. In, out.)
(I can’t)
(Inhale, exhale)
(I can’t)
(Get a grip)
It seems to take forever, but he’s eventually able to calm down enough to recognize who’s kneeling in front of him. “...T-To-Tony?” He has dark bags under his eyes and looks a bit more broken than before, but it’s him. He’s alive. Tony seems to understand Thor’s unspoken question, for he replies, “Good to see you, too Point Break. Got back a couple of days ago. Admittedly, I’ve been better, but… that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Brucie needs to take care of that hand of yours, so do you want to come back into the other room with me? Do you think we can do that?” Thor always knew that Tony was a kind soul, though he tended to mask that with quips and haughtiness, but he’d never heard his voice so… soft. Steeling himself, he takes a couple of shaky breaths and nods. Slowly but surely, him and Tony make their way to the bed in the adjoining room. Thor’s legs feel like those of a newborn colt, but he fears that he’ll topple them both if he leans too much of his weight onto Tony. As they stagger their way out of the bathroom, Thor notices the others (plus a blue humanoid that looks rather angry at everyone and everything) lingering by the clear glass door. (They’re all here for you)
(You’re such a burden, making all of them wait on you hand and foot)
Thor wants to wrench himself away from Tony, say he can do it himself, but he knows he’ll just end up falling to the floor. He’s hard enough to deal with as it is. After what seems like an eternity, they reach the bed, where Tony helps him sit on the edge of the mattress. Bruce is waiting with medical equipment nearby. Thor tries to reassure them by smiling, but it doesn’t seem to work. “Thanks, but it’s ok… I-I’m ok. You… you can go.” None of them go. Natasha comes over and sits next to him on the mattress. “Thor, it’s ok to need a little help.” Thor turns his head away from them, wrapping his left arm around his torso.
(They just pity you)
(They don’t care about you, you let half their friends die) “Thor?” Bruce is in front of him. The others are gone. (See? They don’t care) “The others were called out on a mission... there are lots riots and stuff ‘cause of… you know.” (Your fault) “...Lots of places lost their governmental leaders, creating power vacuums… sorry, I’m rambling.” Bruce sighs, collecting himself. Thor, I need to put your IV back in. Could I have your left arm?” Reluctantly, Thor holds out his left arm, palm up. He barely feels the elastic tie on his upper arm, or the sharp prick of the IV. “Thor, I gotta take care of your hand now.”
(No you don’t it’s fine I can do it it’s ok)
He gingerly cradles his right hand close to his chest. “Thor, please.” Bruce reaches out, but Thor flinches away from him violently, a quiet whine escaping his throat. Bruce sighs, pulling his hand away.
(Now you’re just being a pain like always)
He feels the mattress dip as Bruce sits down next to him. “Listen, Thor, I know how hard it is to come to terms with the fact that you’re… not fine. I’ve gone through it plenty of times.” (Not this again) “I was in a rough spot not so long ago. Do you know who helped me?” Bruce pauses, seemingly waiting for Thor to answer. When Thor offers none, he continues. “You did, Thor. You helped me.” At this proclamation, Thor turns to Bruce. The scientist’s eyes are earnest and kind. “Now let me help you.”
(If you really want to waste your time)
“....Ok.” *** With skilled hands and various tools, Bruce carefully cleans out the cuts and scrapes on his hand. Once finished, Bruce delicately wraps Thor’s hand. “There. That should do it.” Thor wants to say thank you, wants to say something, anything, but the words claw desperately at his throat, seeking traction. Finding none, they slip down into the abyss. (Loki letting go of Gungnir, falling down, down, down, only to return crazed and vengeful and changed )
(Devastated screams that frantically search and never find are left unheard and better left unsaid)
“I know you’ll probably be healed in a day or two at the most—the wonders of Asgardian healing—but I just want to be as careful as possible.” “Thor, please look at me. Please?” No response. He feels a hand lightly grab his chin, guiding his gaze to the scientist seated adjacent to him on the bed. He still can’t find it in himself to meet Bruce’s gaze. “Thor, we care about you so much. I care about you so much.” Thor meets Bruce’s eyes, and finds the scientist’s gaze to be sad and… caring? Pitiful? He didn’t know. “It’s ok to not be ok, you know,” Bruce continues. Thor fidgets, still looking at him. He opens his mouth to respond, but the words just won’t come. “Here, come here.” Bruce opens his arms, not pushing or imposing, simply inviting him. Oh-so-hesitantly, Thor slowly inches his way into Bruce’s waiting arms. He hears the other sigh in relief, and feels Bruce’s arms envelop him in a warm embrace. The feeling of safety overwhelms Thor, and he hesitantly lets himself relax in Bruce’s arms, burying his face in the latter’s shoulder. He feels his seemingly iron-clad defenses slowly start to crumble. (No no no you must be strong) He can feel himself shaking.
(A king cannot afford to show weakness)
(You are no king, simply a boy playing pretend in his father’s oversized robes)
“It’s ok, Thor,” Bruce murmurs, stroking his hair. “It’ll be ok. You can let go.” ( Let go No I ca—) A sob erupts from his throat. Then suddenly he’s screaming and bawling into Bruce’s clothed chest and can’t stop. Bruce does not disappear or reject him or tell him “grow up, Thor, you’re no longer a child, you must be poised and princely at all times.” He simply comforts him, holds him tight and doesn’t let go, doesn’t let him fall endlessly in the void, allows Thor to cry 7 years’ worth of pent-up emotions and tears into his shoulder. After he’s cried himself out, he’s too tired to apologize or say anything, so he simply wriggles out of Bruce’s grasp and under the covers of the bed. Bruce’s hand squeezes his. As he drifts off to sleep, he thinks he hears a voice say, “I won’t leave you, Thor. I promise.” The hand stays. *** Bruce, as well as the rest of the team, is there when he wakes. Thor sees the devotion in their eyes and loves them for it.