He was inside a train. He was not sure why and he had no idea where he was going… But he was in a train. He could faintly the noises under him, notice the the movement. He wished it was soothing, calming, but it wasn’t. It only made him dizzier, it only made the world blurrier.
Scott had his eyes tightly closed shut, elbows on his knees, hands on his eyes. He wanted the world to stop, he wanted no sound, no light, no people. He was so nauseated, felt so impossibly light-headed. And he didn’t know why. If he knew…. But coherent thoughts were too much. His limited focus was on trying to hold himself together. Breathe. Exist.
Still, it was hard. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know why he was there. He had no idea if he was alone or not, he had no idea what this train meant. Where did it come from, why or how he got in, what on Earth (or outer space, who knew anymore) was the destination. He didn’t know if he was in trouble, in danger, if he should be rushing somewhere…. No. Just thinking about rushing made everything more… Horrible.
He had flashes of battle, of friends and foes, of places and moments he really couldn’t place. He didn’t even know if it had been real, or a dream, or a magical hallucination, or an alternate reality that never even happened because of time travel… Scott often had problems to know what the hell was going on in his regular life and even more so when Avengers were involved… But these last couple of years had been positively harrowing.
It was hard to tell who was friend and who wasn’t any more, who was with them and who was dead or in some forgotten corner of the who knew which galaxy, who had been defeated and who was the issue now. It kept changing. People kept changing, leaving and coming back different, disappearing or bringing more people. And Scott…. He was alone, on a train, covered in cuts and dried blood and trying not to throw up in that train wagon that as far as he knew, could probably be full of people.
Maybe it would be better if he opened his eyes and tried to… Find out where he was. If there was anyone around, maybe even a bathroom. Somewhere to pour water on his face and try to become a person again. But that would imply getting up and… No. Too much. Still, seeing was probably a good idea, so he opened his eyes.
He had no recollection of this place. Just a long, wooden bench on one side and big windows on the other. It was blurry and it was wrong. He’d hoped that seeing the place would help him remember… But it was still a blank. Why was he there? Why was he there alone? Was he prisoner of someone?
He tried to get up, but the world tilted and it seemed that the train wagon was going out of control, had lost all direction and the floor was coming to meet him… So he sat again and put his bloodied hurt hands on his eyes again. This was… this was not good. His stomach hurt, his legs were sore and each and every one of his cuts was screaming at him. He could hear the train’s rumble under him. He didn’t know why he was on a train.
The train kept going, and going, and going…..
“Scott?”
There was a cold hand on his thigh, and a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.
Someone was there. When did someone come in?
“Are you still in the land of the living? Could you look at me? It will not take long, you have my word. I just need to make sure you’re still… Functional.”
So Scott opened his eyes. He trusted this voice, although something told him that most people didn’t think it was a trustworthy voice.
Blue-green eyes, oddly big and bright eyes, were looking at him. The person in front of him was too skinny, bloodied, too, had a split lip and a gash on his eyebrow. Tall and dressed only with a faded green shirt stained with blood and some black leather pants. His black hair went down to his shoulders - it didn’t use to be so long, but suited him. And he had those unmistakable horizontal marks on his neck that bespoke of horrors. Loki.
Good. No matter how crazy the situation was, Loki knew what was happening. Hell, he seemed to work the crazier the situation.
“Where are we?” Scott asked, with a broken voice.
“On a train to Moscow. Apparently, our intergalactic foes have some sort of headquarters there and the Lady Danvers has a plan to destroy it.” (Nobody knew why Loki called Carol that. Nobody questioned it either)
Scott was now realising that Loki was kneeling to be at his eyes height, in front of him. He took a good look at this very peculiar alien that he now considered a friend. They had been through a lot these past few years, and had sort of bonded (as sad as it may sound) over always being left out, Underrated. Unappreciated. There would be people who never fully accept Loki, and many people were that didn’t really care about Scott either way.
But they had proven them wrong. Been invaluable, been key. They had saved each other’s lives, time and time again. It was all coming back now, few clear memories: being shielded from a bullet by green energy, and a green-blue wink; playing cards with Loki and Natasha while louder people argued about the fate of the world; Loki giving him and Cassie a lesson on how to be more Goth (Loki didn’t call it that, but it was what it had been); doing physics experiments with Banner).
There was a fairly big scar next to Loki’s left eye and Scott felt that he’d been there when that happened too. But the world was still confusing, and painful and he was…. He was tired, and hurt, and confused, an sick.
“I don’t feel well.” Scott muttered, with a very small voice.
And now they expected him to continue saving the world and receiving orders and becoming big and small, and performing impossible tasks, and fearing for his life and wondering if he would see Cassie again… And his head couldn’t take more. Not a single life-or-death plan more.
“My head is all mashed. Loki… I can’t tell what happened, what didn’t when I’m awake and what is a dream…”
“Try dying and coming back, friend. I am so lost, I am forever adrift and gone astray. I just keep going. Hoping Thor will be there to… I don’t know. At least call me by name. That helps me remember who I am.”
Red is leaking under Loki, forming a little pool. When the god gets up and sits next to him, Scott notices a big stain on his green undershirt.
“You’re hurt too.”
Loki drew a small smile. It was nice to see people cared. Well, people may be a stretch.
“Yeah. You could say I’m not feeling that well either.”
Loki put his head on Scott’s shoulder, his long black hair warm on the torn skin and remnants of cloth from the shirt the thief/engineer had been wearing. It was nice, the weight, the warmth, to have someone else’s breathing there. Scott looked through the window in front of him and felt that things were finally settling a bit. He didn’t remember much about the fight from before, or how they got in the train, but who cared about that.
“You came to find me?” Scott asked, and maybe it sounded pathetic, but…
“They kept boring me with their rules, and limitations and condescensions those mortals. I feel they are ashamed of me, dear Scott. And that is a feeling I really cannot bear.”
Scott huffed, even if it hurt a bit.
“That’s nonsense. We’re lucky to have you.”
Loki buried his head deeper. He’d been alone for so long… Sure, he had Thor, but Thor was family. He was, in a way, forced to like him, to love him. But Scott Lang had chose to like him, and that meant the world to Loki. So of course he looked for him, of course he worried. Of course he cared.
“You should probably get that looked at. It’s bleeding a lot.”
“I have had worse.”
Scott didn’t doubt that. But he worried too.
“Loki….”
“Just… Let’s listen to the train for a bit, shall we? You’re tired and so am I. Let’s… rest.”
*
“They are just sleeping! I can see through the glass.” Tony said, pissed. They were on T- 2:57 hours to the attack and damned Lang and Loki were just fucking sleeping when they were supposed to be getting to know the plan.
Loki and Scott were indeed sleeping, having found a bit of peace among the concussions and flashbacks.
“Yeah, they are. So they can’t go to your damned meeting.” Hope said, leaving no room for doubt. She’d been worried about Scott for a while, he’d been off the whole last battle, and now he finally seemed to be doing better, resting for real, right there sitting in that bench on the old train, with Loki’s head on his shoulder. They bruised and battered and covered in scrapes and blood, but they were finally breathing and at peace, and nobody was going to interrupt that.
“Hope, I… I get that you’re worried about your boyfriend. But the stakes are real high here, and we need everyone.”
“No.”
“Let me get Loki at least.”
“I said no.”
Tony got angry. Angry-ER.
“You think you can stop me?”
“I know so.”
Tony took a deep breath. Fighting would only consume more time and the world…
“You can and will do this, whatever it is, without them. Loki’s all chaos and never follows orders anyway. And Scott would be no good - he would pass out would be useless out there. Even if he wasn’t - you’ve exploited him enough. Loki nearly lost his eye and then his life last week. He’s been bleeding all around the train and now you want to wake him again and take him to another alpha male explaining. He’ll catch up even without your pointers. He’s smart like that.”
Okay, so maybe Hope had gotten a bit attached to Loki too. Tony was fuming.
“We’re all tired! We’re all hurt! But the responsibility…”
“SSSSH. You’ll wake them.”
Tony stormed out, muttering that they didn’t have time and this was not the way should be done….
Hope would deal with the fallout later.
For now, she was glad watch over her hurt boys, make sure no one bothered their sleep and then, after they had arrived and had been patched up in whatever place Fury had set for them, and after they’ve slept a bit more in a proper bed, maybe they would worry about he world ending.
But now, they would rest.
Nurse their injuries.
Look after each other.
That was as important as the entire world.