Thor's POV

The prospect of returning back to Asgard excited me since working with delegates was more tedious than I thought. Father assigned me the massive task of restoring the Peace in all the realms, affected or not. Months have passed by since Thanos and Laufey's attack, but the after-effects lingered for a long time. Normalcy was slowly returning back in the invaded realms, but people still lived with the fear of having to face another attack. Fortunately, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three lightened the work for me, spreading awareness among the masses while I did the same with the royal families. They needed to know that Asgard was ready to protect them in dangerous times, and in return get the same assurance if Asgard faced danger.

"What are we waiting for? My tastebuds cannot wait any longer for the first sip of the Asgardian ale," Volstagg whined, already huffing on our delay.

"Seems you aren't the only one impatient," Lady Sif nudged me gently as we waited for Hogun to return from some personal business since Vanaheim was our last stop.

As soon as he did, I raised my hammer in the air shouting the magical words and moments later, we were back at the astonishing dome of the Bifrost. A fortnight spent on seven realms was enough to make me miss home. I wonder how Sylvie and Loki are coping with this. Not that they aren't habituated with living away from Asgard, but this time it was against their wishes.

I stayed back with Heimdall while the others returned to the mainland on horseback. It had been some time since I had news about Jane or my friends and family. But before I pronounced the first word, Heimdall started abruptly. "Things aren't good as you think they are."

*****

Mjölnir lead my way to the palace while I took the time to wrap my mind around the news. Midgard suffered a war and now struggling through another while I was away? And Barton, Pietro, Sam, Rhodes died? I fought back tears, trying to regain composure for my meeting with Father.

I landed in front of the enormous golden doors, and took firm strides into the throne room where Father was conversing with some ministers. He dismissed them on my arrival, and they left us alone after bowing before me.

"Son, I see you have fulfilled your.." He started but my impatient mind cut him off.

"I need to go to Midgard." I stated firmly. He raised his chin up and looked down at me, as though he was reading me and my reactions. He knows.

"Heimdall told you," he said, "but the phase has passed. There isn't anything dire there that must require your presence. The orders are resolute."

"People there are facing a biological disaster. Thousands are dying due to the disease. I need to go inspect things, we need to help them. You swore to protect all the realms, and that includes Midgard," I countered, with the steadfast decision that I was not going to give up on this so easily. How many lives were we going to lose before Father realises the gravity of the situation?

"Mortals are meant to die early. We cannot risk sending our experts on the realm for its cure. This is just another wipe-off stage of Midgard, meant to cleanse the realm and give rise to a newer generation. We cannot imperil Asgard's safety by interfering in nature's work," he said with a blank face, as if a pandemic is a normal thing.

"My friends died due to this! Lady Jane is at risk, I have to go!"

"Befriending mortals have weakened your heart, son," he said spitefully.

"Loki and Sylvie are down there, we cannot afford to lose them at all!" my voice raised involuntarily as I was tearing up on the inside.

"They are on Midgard?" I stared for a moment, then closed my eyes quickly and looked down, realising he never had a hint about their secret location. They were supposed to be on Blenheim and Anaheim. My silence told him the truth. "Well, then they deserve what they're going through."

I curtsyed a nod and left the room with more disheartening news, more than I could bear in a day. I headed straight to my room before ordering the guards to keep me away from any disturbance. I tossed Mjölnir on my bed when my feet stopped at the balcony which gave the entire view of Asgard's natural beauty, but I was not here to admire it for now. All I could think of was the disappointed looks on the faces of my friends and family when I couldn't lend them a hand in their tough times. How was I supposed to defend my actions when they would ask me about it later? I lost some of my friends in this, there's no way I'm going to let that happen to Sylvie and Loki. But I was stuck here and all this felt like an intangible prison for me.

I felt the presence of someone else in the room but I did not look back knowing fully who it was. "I heard about what happened on Midgard. I'm sorry."

"My friends don't deserve this torture. It's..." I closed my eyes and kept my hands behind my back.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" She asked with genuine concern.

"I just wish Sylvie and Brother were here with us right now." Tears started to form but I was trying hard to hold them back.

"I miss them too," Mother rested her gentle hand on my shoulder from the back, her motherly love making her miss them more than me. A tear finally escaped my eye. I remembered a line from a song close to my heart - 'Når hun synger, hun synger, kom hjem...'

I pray, Almighty, just keep them safe. Please.

*****

Loki's POV

Log for day 7 : Things are fine for me, not for my partner.

A week stuck in a hospital room (and for a week more later) seems petty compared to the months I spent in those hideous cells at Asgard and Titan. At least this isolation is for my rehabilitation, not for torturing or using me for benefit. Spending seven days with my best friend in the same room while getting rest for a fortnight from a hectic Midgardian schedule and a chaotic mission is the perfect vacation according to me.

The first three days after the surgery were spent in agonizing pain. It was taking me a lot more time to recover because my body was already low on energy when I got wounded. Plus I was used to healing powers so days felt longer than before. The bullet got me on the right side of the abdomen (it injured some internal part I never grasped the name of) but the doctors said I was lucky none of my organs were damaged due to it, since the bullet was designed for war machines, not Frost Giant bodies. (Doctors were surprised on my revealing blue skin around the wound, but Sylvie said Tony bribed them to keep their mouths shut.) But more importantly, I saved Sylvie and I am alive. So it was a win-win.

I was asleep most of the time due to the heavy medication so I had no idea how most of the days passed away. At times when I awake, I would update on current affairs or read the book on Norse mythology Stark sent so kindly by the drone (such a stereotypical choice, besides most of the accounts were incorrect.) As the wound healed, I attended some online physiotherapy sessions by a woman named Margaret Carter to get back into shape. I fretted doing them sometimes, but being off-track isn't ideal. Besides, I am a sports coach so I have an image to maintain.

Other times I would just observe my roommate go about her daily work. Hospital staff was busy attending to other patients so she was my part-time nurse. She tended to my every need, be it food or giving me meds on time (except for the bathroom ones, which Martha took care of.) I was a lot picky at everything leading Sylvie to comment that 'she was literally babysitting a five year old'.

She would change my bandages as well as hers on her own. I noticed her concern when she saw the other scars on the rest of my body which were usually covered with clothes. She knows they were something else but she learnt that bugging me isn't going to help. Since we broke out of prison from Asgard, she never asked a single question about my time with the two You-Know-Who (I hate their names on my tongue). Even if we were comfortable together than before, this topic was still raw and untouched between us. I was still deciding if I should pour it all out to her. Because the last time I trusted people, it ruined my life.

~~~~~

Sylvie wasn't coping up with the happenings good enough. Her inner conflicts and sufferings were clear to me, but she just covered them up with some positivity and smiles; it feels like she was keeping herself strong for me. And sometimes she'd just completely break down at random points: while having dinner, meditating or even watching something humorous on YouTube. Like tears would start rolling down her cheeks which sometimes intensified into proper sobs. When she was nearby, I'd hold her hand and console her silently, letting her get out all the sadness and frustration she had bottled up for hours. If she sat on the couch or someplace far away, I would attempt to get up from the bed and walk to her to try comforting her. (The process was immensely painful, but it was nothing compared to what Sylvie was going through.) Then she would get angry at me for disobeying the doctor and straining myself to unnecessary lengths. Sometimes she was all smiles and acted like nothing bad happened to her; it was like living with two different people. I might not know how it actually feels to lose someone dear to us; but I know the exact feeling when we blame ourselves for others' death.

Being a therapist, she knew it was better to keep herself occupied, so she connected with her patients on online meetings. Her assistant had fortunately recovered from the virus, so he helped out with the appointments. How ironic : we all were united by the same technology that once tried to divide and kill us. Sometimes I would lean back on my pillow and watch her sitting cross-legged on the couch in front of a laptop and patiently listening to the other person on call before she provided some solution or motivating words.
She was suffering from borderline depression (or that's what I deduced on observing her behaviour and her work.) Like her sanity will just walk away if she hears one more bad news. She is someone who herself needs therapy and control, still she kept a smile on her face, comforting others that everything will be alright in the end.

She wrote some quote or saying on a piece of paper she tore from her notebook and stuck it on the upper cabinet door with medical tape. It read something like:
Smile. Though your heart is aching. Smile. Even though it's breaking. When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by.    -RDJ
Whenever she felt low, she'd stand in front of the paper and stare at the words for a long time, not until a smile creeps up to her lips.

This was one of the reasons why I admire her : her selflessness. I too had some of its experience back in the day. How could I forget her sacrifice of her stable life for proving me innocent? I'm happy I repaid her debt a little, if not much.

*****

I slurped the remaining soup in the bowl which went cold some time ago, knowing not to waste food. Even then, Sylvie rolled her eyes at my playful off-the-etiquette drinking style for the being. "What? I liked the soup. No one can resist having the classic chicken noodle soup," I reasoned before she picked up the greasy bowls and placed them on the last shelf of the food trolley.

"If you give me the 'Chinese customs approve it' addition again, I'd smack you right away," she said, giving me the same century-old threat she's almost got a copyright of. It's fun to see her get annoyed sometimes due to her finicky nature at table manners. Habits die hard.

Having settled on the couch, she switched on the television and briefed through the day's news, completing the last of the tasks of her new routine. Nothing special, the only things changed were the numbers, which never seemed to dwindle. I scratched my cheeks carefully in irritation, both due to the news and the stubble.

"You seriously want to shave that off?" She asked me the same question for the past three days.

"You know I'm not one who appreciates adorning facial hair. It bothers me a lot. How Brother carries it seamlessly is still a mystery to me."

"But you look good in that, handsome even," she pouted. When I gave her the disapproving puppy eyes look again, she gave in and gathered the shaving equipment from the cabinet. Like a professional coiffeur, she draped a napkin on the lower part of my neck and began smothering shaving foam on my cheeks. The razor glided across seamlessly, her hands and sight working perfectly in sync; as if she did this every day for a living. She smiled upon my compliment on her handiwork.
The TV was still going with the news, talking about the impact of the pandemic on trade and aviation industry, and how people were still migrating to their homeland countries, despite the restrictions.

I felt the razor stop midway in progress. "Wait a minute. If flights were cancelled way back after the Hulk rampage, how did you end up in D.C.?" she asked, still trying to solve the puzzle. Apparently, she wanted to ask me a million questions about my adventure but it seems she kept them on hold until I healed fine first. It was time I answer them.

"Stark snuck me on the Quinjet before it took off. We took a different route to reach the airstrip and managed to reach just in time, while you were busy with arrangements. And no one really bothers to check the deepest parts of the cargo hold." Right after Sylvie and the group left from Sylkiville, Tony came up to me asking if I wanted to go with her, probably noticing my worry about her safety. As strange as it seems, he offered to help, provided I remain undercover. I defended myself and took down robots, kept check on their every move but stayed away from her eyes throughout the mission. I was indeed, the element of surprise.

"Why did you come to D.C. in the first place?"

"And here I thought you already knew. To protect you, darling."

"You flew all the way from New York to fight life-threatening, merciless robots singlehandedly without any protection or formal training in Midgardian arms or any intel just to protect me? That was quite a dumb decision you've taken in centuries."

"You expected me to stay in the comfort of our home and act normal while you walk on the tightrope between life and death?"

"Yes, but I'm grateful you didn't." She looked down at her hands twirling the razor slowly. "This is wrong. I should be the one sitting on that bed, receiving all the treatment. It's not fair you suffer the pain I was entitled to. I'm sorry for calling you out. It's just... I can't imagine what I would have done if you....... got seriously injured because of me."

Died. A word which perfectly summed up the meaning for her phrase after the pause. She obviously knows it; but she couldn't get it out. I ran my fingers over the fabric above the wound slightly, feeling the same what Sylvie experienced : thinking of consequences of a life without the person we cared for. This was totally worth it.
I didn't reply; we sat there absorbing the silence between us. About what and how could I console her? The disturbing past and present? Or the long-lost possibility of her future without me? At such times, silence is golden.

There was an abrupt knock on the door as Nurse Martha came in. "My sleep is precious so I'm not gonna waste it on sending you both personal invitations to go to sleep."
Sylvie rubbed her hand on her face, as if she wiped a tear away and looked up at her. "Sorry for the trouble. Good night to you too." Martha gave us a small smile and a nod before she left us alone again.

She returned back to shaving, her pace quicker than before. Soon, she wrapped up with the work and was off to sleep, without speaking a single word since. She dimmed the lights and leaned back on the couch with the pillow and blanket the nurse provided. I couldn't help pity at her sleeping arrangements. The couch was too short for her; her feet dangled in the air as they rested on its armrest. That's too uncomfortable in my experience.

I shifted to my left as much as I can to make space on the bed. "Come on, hop in," I grinned, pointing at the empty area. I needed to lighten the mood; tension had already gripped her tight.

She furrowed her brows on my proposal. "That's ridiculous. It's meant for the patient to sleep comfortably. You need it more than me."

"See? It's not causing me any harm. Sleeping in that position is not good for you. And if you are worried about the nurse checking on us, make sure to lock the door and draw the blinds." She opened her mouth but I spoke over her. "Plus we are tested negative, so this is safe."

"How could I forget my friend's ass is the most obstinate out there?" She did what I asked, rolling her eyes. I just grinned in reply.

She walked up to me and laid with her back upwards on the bed, with us shifting to make ourselves comfortable. Her head was nuzzled in the crook of my neck and our bodies pressed together on the sides as we shared the same bed, pillow and blanket. It wasn't uncomfortable an inch, it felt cozy.

"Thank you... for saving my life," she whispered, resting her hand on my chest. I tipped my head on her side, gazing at her sapphire eyes for whom I risked my life. I felt heat rising up to my whole body.
"It's the least I could do for you, darling," I murmured back, fixing a smile upon our faces. We stayed in the same position in silence for some time, with me staring blankly at the ceiling and Sylvie.. well how could I see her at the same time? I felt our feet brushing against each other slightly under the blanket; I wasn't sure whether it was intentional or there was no room keep them apart, but none of us retreated from doing it. I dared not stop with it, since it felt... good. Good is the apt word.

Seeing that we were going to be awake for a while, I decided to recreate one of our memories. "I stormsvarte fjell jeg vandrer alene.."

"You remember?" she asked, surprised.

"I remember every moment we spent together," I replied back, happy to notice some colour appearing on her cheeks.

I started again, singing in the same mellifluous tone just how she liked her favourite piece to be.
"I stormsvarte fjell jeg vandrer alene
Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem
I eplehagen står møyen den vene
Og synger: når kommer du hjem?

Men trærne de danser
Og fossene stanser
Når hun synger, hun synger
Kom hjem...."

She dozed off even before I could complete the first verse. I could feel her relaxed breathing on the bare skin of my neck, sending some light shivers down to my body. Very carefully, I managed to clutch her hand on my chest and shift it to the left, placing it right above where my heart resides. The warmth on her palm was welcoming, as if it was thawing my miserable frozen heart. I squeezed her hand a bit as I pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, the smile on my face not fading away.

I couldn't save the world, but I'm glad I saved mine.

*****

A.N. : Song credits -

Thor's song line and Loki's song : 'Very Full' by Tom Hiddleston from the live action Marvel series 'Loki' (translation of song available on Google)

Please do not hate me for killing off your favourite characters in the last two chapters (seven are too much) but I can't show them immortal through this dangerous virus phase. So sorry for your tears, but I wanted to show the impact on the rest of the team, how they are human too and the consequences when they lose. (It's not much realistic if the heroes win all the time, right?)

Not many Loki fanfics dive in the AoU movie (cause it was not much appreciated), so I decided to break the wheel. Also, the whole *lifting and throwing a whole country towards the planet like some sort of a ball* story was too over-the-top so I delved into the coronavirus plot to make it more ground-level and relatable. Please do leave down your comments on this subplot!

Also, over 1K reads on this story in 3 months!! Thank you all for your support!! *happy tears*

Thank you for reading!
Till then, stay tuned!