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Gamora shot awake, a choked sob on her lips. Her muscles were tensed and she felt as if her ribs had been exchanged for a smaller set that gripped her lungs viciously.
“Shhh,” a familiar voice soothed, “you are alright, Sister. Breath.”
A hand, upon her arm.
She flinched.
“Gamora,” the voice said again, a dash of hesitancy clinging to the softly spoken words, “it’s me.”
A blink. Then two.
The room faded back in, the darkness receding just enough to make out the man who sat on the edge of the bed beside her, concern etching his features.
“Loki,” Gamora whispered – barely a sigh – as she leaned forward against him, against the touch, and allowed her brother to pull her into his arms.
*****
The Benatar had been quiet all evening. Too quiet, Loki thought.
The other crew members had left a little while ago, off for some plans involving spray paint, a wedding, and tax evasion. Honestly, Loki hadn’t paid that much attention to the details beyond “Job on a planet where both he and Gamora were banned” – Not Nebula, though, which she kept lording over them.
The lack of commotion left a void which Loki was not partial to.
It wasn’t the same, he told himself.
It wasn’t the same as when he had been sequestered in his room cell on Sanctuary.
It wasn’t the same as those long nights with no sound – not even the hum of lights – to keep him company.
It wasn’t the same, because the engine clanked and purred and didn’t make him doubt his own sanity as those nights so few years ago had.
It wasn’t the same because he knew where he was.
It wasn’t the same because even if the others were gone, he wasn’t completely abandoned.
It wasn’t the same, because he could rest his palm against the walls and feel the rhythmic pulse of his protectionary spells.
It was the same, because he couldn’t sleep.
It was the same, because the shadows seemed to leer at him.
It was the same, because he was alone in this room.
It was the same, because though intellectually he was aware Gamora rested nearby, he couldn’t be certain.
It was the same, because his skin crawled and his mind itched and nothing was right.
It was the same, because even if he was fully aware that he was aboard the Benatar and safe and alive, he knew that a part of himself would never quite believe that.
Loki threw off the covers, swearing under his breath. There would be no sleep tonight, that was certain. Nor would there be anyone to rebuke him for stalking down the halls to release his energy. The two went hand-in-hand.
*****
Gamora didn’t know how long they had remained there, Loki holding her as she shook. The next thing she remembered clearly was being in the kitchen, a steaming mug of tea set down before her. It was as if she had blinked, and the scene around her changed.
She didn’t bother giving any thanks, having enough trouble already focusing on the still-moving liquid inside the mug. The aroma swirled towards her, steadying her only somewhat. It was so close, so close she could have reached out and brought it back to her lips to take a long, slow sip.
The mug remained where it was.
Distantly, Gamora recognized Loki moving about the kitchen, preparing his own tea and returning to her side. He was hovering. She didn’t know how to feel about that.
The mug was nudged toward her with graceful fingers, inviting with an undercurrent of eagerness that did not dare to break through the thin veil of stillness that covered the room.
Slowly, she reached out her own shaking hand towards it. She flinched from the heat, when she first made contact.
A hum. A glimmer of green.
The mug cooled just enough.
“Thank you,” Gamora whispered, and passively noted how unnatural her voice sounded. How raw. How broken. She drew the mug to her lips thinking distantly of how it may help sooth the wounds that her screams had left behind.
Her brother hummed once more, still hovering. She couldn’t find it within herself to rebuke him for standing there, his eyes filled with more emotion than she had the energy to parse through at the moment.
She took another sip of tea. It was sweet – she normally didn’t like her tea sweet.
“A little honey does wonders for night terrors,” Loki said, as if reading her mind. He sounded as if he were quoting someone, though Gamora had no idea who.
Gamora nodded, slowly. She felt as if all her movements were through water (or perhaps some of the honey Loki had put in her tea). Her mind too, to be entirely honest. She didn’t like it, but what choice did she have?
“It’s not normally this bad,” Loki stated.
“No, it isn’t,” Gamora answered despite the lack of question. “Peter’s usually there.”
Loki swallowed, and she raised her eyes to meet his own. You were alone, he seemed to say.
And that – that look – that was what began to pull Gamora out of her haze. “No,” she said, with a bit more strength, “you were there.”
*****
He walked through the halls of the ship, feet patting softly and eyes darting around. He felt like a lone wolf patrolling his territory. He felt like a refuge, jumping at each shadow he came across. He felt… he wasn’t sure precisely how he felt, actually. It was probably the lack of sleep getting to him, but he couldn’t quite nail himself down.
Hence the movement.
Loki raised a hand to the side of the hallways that he walked, unbothered by the frigid metal. The texture stabilized him, a thin connection to the real world.
He dragged his fingertips along as he turned the corner, a brief moment of air that was quickly replaced with yet another wall.
The lights flickered in his presence, and Loki knew that he should get himself under control at least somewhat. After all, he had no desire to be lectured once again on blown-out lights and the cost of replacements.
A breath. A pair of pursed lips.
The lights returned to their steady glow.
Loki let loose a sigh of relief. He was fine. The lights were fine. Everything was fine. Everything was fine.
That was when he walked past Gamora’s room, and heard the sobs. The sound, which he hated with every grain of his being, was one he knew well.
Loki did not even think about what he was doing until after he had opened the door to his sister’s room and slipped in. He had a purpose, now, and whatever issues he had had previously were now inconsequential.
Gamora came first.
*****
“What were you doing there?” Gamora asked a few moments later. “Was I that loud?”
Loki tilted his head. “No, of course not.”
There was something in his eye, though, that drew Gamora’s attention. She couldn’t quite describe it – she had spent years trying and failing to name this feeling – but she knew her brother was hiding something. She could always tell.
“Loki.” Gamora tightened her grip around her mug, “what were you doing awake?”
Her brother didn’t bother trying to come up with a lie.
“You couldn’t sleep, could you?” she asked, feeling oh so tired. How many times had this happened over the years? Too many, was the only count which Gamora could conjure. “Was it the shadows again?”
“Oh, no,” Loki shook his head, “you are not allowed to fuss over me now. Not after I walked in on you having a nightmare – my inability to sleep pales in comparison.”
“I didn’t realize we were comparing,” Gamora retorted, a hint of her usual edge returning to her voice.
“We’re not. Now drink your tea.”
Gamora pursed her lips, but decided that the tea had been helping, and while her brother could be an idiot, he was not wrong in this specific regard.
The liquid went down smoothly, calming her shaking and steadying her resolve. She waited, however, until she had finished the entire mug. She had to.
“Are you okay?” Gamora asked, trying to put as much emotion into the words as possible. She needed him to understand. To understand that she needed him to be okay.
“I’ll be fine when I know that you’re alright,” Loki said, jaw set.
“Likewise,” Gamora raised her chin in defiance.
Loki’s expression melted, though not in defeat. No, an overwhelming sadness overcame his features, drowning out all the other twisted emotions that had been present beforehand.
“Gamora,” Loki said softly, his voice just above a whisper, “I know that you protect us. I know that you care deeply, and stay strong.” he swallowed. “But please – please let me help you too. I need to know that you’re alright, too. Allow me this, just this once?”
Gamora blinked rapidly, and no she was not crying.
She took a breath to try and steady herself. And then another. And another. Until, eventually, she was able to croak out a miniscule “okay.”
Gamora would never admit it, but with the release of that singular word, it was as if a dam was smashed to pieces in her heart, and the tears began to flow. She would never admit it, but maybe those tears loosened a knot in her chest that had been keeping her stiff and closed-off.
Maybe she allowed her brother to wrap his arms around her once more.
Maybe she didn’t even protest as he pulled her into his room.
Maybe she stood there, making no move to leave, as he pulled down pillows and blankets and piled them in the center of the room in a way reminiscent of their sleepovers.
Maybe she let herself be pulled down easily to the comfortable mound.
Maybe she let out a sigh of contentment as she leaned against her brother, allowing his presence to ground her in the here and now.
And maybe – just maybe – she slept better that night than she had in a long, long time.