Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, King of Asgard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pirateangelbaby) wrote2019-08-31 07:03 pm
pirateangelbaby) wrote2019-08-31 07:03 pm
Sore Must Be the Storm
[Trigger warnings: depression, alcohol abuse, panic attack, suicidal thoughts.]
By all accounts, it should have been a normal ordinary day.
There are few pressing matters that Thor must attend to these days, either simply because of their circumstances or because he cannot handle the workload that once would have come with being king. Either way, he's put in enough work at the greenhouse over the week that surely it would be fine if he took a day off to just rest and relax. He's earned it, hasn't he? So he pulls back his hair into a simple ponytail and takes off his arm, intent on spending the next few hours without a single responsibility in the world.
The knock on the door comes halfway through his fifth glass of mead, interrupting the television.
"Door's open," he calls out, twisting around on the couch so he can see the foyer with his good eye, puzzled at who would be calling on him at this hour. It's too early in the week for Steven to visit, isn't it? And the Valkyrie never knocks. Who else might be showing up at his door?
The human who enters is not Steve Rogers, but a face that Thor hasn't seen in months, not since that awful day at the Garden where everything had truly fallen apart for good. Bruce Banner smiles hesitantly at Thor, though there's a startled look in his eye as he looks at what's become of his teammate. Once, that might have bothered Thor more, but he just shoves that discomfort right down and beams back at him, a genuine pang of happiness in his chest at the sight of an old friend. "Banner! I didn't know you were coming to visit."
"Hey, Thor," the human greets him, stepping further into the house, and now Thor can see Rocket at his heels. "Hope this isn't a bad time."
"No, of course not. Come in. Uh, mind the mess." Since being left to his own devices again, the housekeeping has fallen by the wayside a little, though it's nothing like the squalor he'd been heading toward before his friends had first intervened in his self-destruction. A few bottlecaps and empties is nothing compared to that. Thor sets down his half-empty glass and levers himself up off the couch, enveloping Banner in a one-armed hug. "It's good to see you. Some of the people've been asking after you, you know. You should say hello while you're in town."
Banner's smile looks pained, for some reason. "I should," he echoes, but there's a seriousness in those eyes that Thor can't ignore, something that makes his stomach clench anxiously. "I'm afraid we're not here on a social visit. We need your help."
He's not prepared for how much that hurts. That the first time Banner came to see him, it's because he needs something. Not because he wants to drop in on a friend. The irony of this moment is not lost on him, but it doesn't do much to lessen the twist of the knife in his chest, and Thor's smile freezes on his face as he turns back around to grab his mead. "If you're coming to recruit me for battle, I should tell you I've been drinking. You people frown on that, if I remember right." He takes a hefty swig of the brew, and it has the bitter taste of spite.
"No, not like that," Banner hastens to answer, but there's still a look about him that Thor doesn't like one bit. He's seen it enough people in the past few months to know it well. Trying to sugar-coat something that Thor would rather not hear, as if a few nice words might make it more palatable. "We think... we might be able to fix everything."
"Everything," Thor says flatly, keeping the human on his blind side, aware as he does so that it's beyond childish to think that this conversation could be so easily ignored. There's a blackness blossoming in his belly, like realizing he's standing on the edge of a cliff, and one careless step will send him to the bottom. He knows that feeling well, too, and though there is no amount of drink that will banish it entirely, he can't help but cling to what little comfort the mead brings.
"It sounds crazy, but I think this is legit," Rocket adds, not so subtly putting himself between Thor and his stockpile of kegs. As if that would stop him from refilling his glass. "The Boss sent us, Thor. This Scott Lang guy showed up at HQ, said he went into some quantum realm place before you-know-who snapped his fingers and came out today, just for him it was only five hours later. They're talking about time travel. Like, going back and getting the stones before all this shit, and usin' them to fix this."
With every word, the invisible fist around Thor's lungs squeezes tighter, and he sits down heavily on the couch and wraps his arm around himself as if that could halt the shaking. "No."
"No?" Banner repeats, taken aback.
"You don't... you don't get to do this to me," Thor grinds out, looking anywhere but at them, a rising chorus of failure failure failure rattling his bones. How can they come here after everything that's happened, after all the progress he's made, everything they've built, and offer him hope now? He remembers all too well what happened the last time he'd dared to hope, to place all his faith in the idea that they would reverse the Snap, and it had nearly destroyed him. It still gnaws at him some days, bleak and devouring, and it has taken every scrap of strength he has to keep it at bay. If he lets it in again... this time, it really will destroy him. "I... I can't. Don't ask me."
"Thor." Banner kneels in front of him, looking distraught and desperate. "This is real, a real chance to bring them all back. If we do this, we can save them all. Half the entire universe. But we can't do it without you. We need you. All of us, the whole team. Please."
Half the universe. Thor has tried so hard not to think about all those lives, trillions dead, and he can feel his breath beginning to wheeze in his chest. He shuts his eye and presses hard against his chest, shakily counting his heartbeats, grasping for some kind of control. This wasn't how today was supposed to go.
A chance. A chance to bring them all back. Oh, Norns, what should he do?
Thor has accepted now that he is not the hero that he'd thought he was. That he is a coward, afraid of pain and suffering that he rightly deserves, and afraid of the ultimate judgment that awaits him beyond the gates of life. His life is already suffused with shame; how much greater could it be to stay home and live out the rest of his days diminished and pathetic, as he is now?
But if there's a real chance... does he not owe it to those he failed to try? At the very least, to give himself one last opportunity to redeem himself, or at least die trying. It's so little to offer, but it's all he has.
The panic finally eases, leaving him more exhausted than before, and he lifts a weary, reddened eye to meet Banner's. This is it, then. Either the universe's one last offer to set things right, or its final and cruelest joke to set on his shoulders. And if this path should lead him off the cliff... then at least his suffering will finally be over.
"You're sure about this?" he asks, his voice weak and shaky.
Banner nods, a hand on Thor's shoulder, looking as concerned as Thor has ever seen him. "I have to be," he says, and it sounds so much like last time that Thor wants to laugh, ugly and bitter. "We have to try."
Do we? Thor thinks, and closes his eye, his entire body bowed as if shouldering the weight of this burden, and feels certain that he will break beneath it. He doesn't want to go. Doesn't want to try, and fail, and welcome his end as he should have months ago. But he is so tired. And maybe... maybe it's better, going out this way. Reclaiming some scrap of the honor he's lost, though it will never be enough. "Fine."
It's not. But Thor does not know what else to do.
He puts on his arm and pockets several bottles of mead, and follows the pair of them to the Benatar, Stormbreaker in hand.
By all accounts, it should have been a normal ordinary day.
There are few pressing matters that Thor must attend to these days, either simply because of their circumstances or because he cannot handle the workload that once would have come with being king. Either way, he's put in enough work at the greenhouse over the week that surely it would be fine if he took a day off to just rest and relax. He's earned it, hasn't he? So he pulls back his hair into a simple ponytail and takes off his arm, intent on spending the next few hours without a single responsibility in the world.
The knock on the door comes halfway through his fifth glass of mead, interrupting the television.
"Door's open," he calls out, twisting around on the couch so he can see the foyer with his good eye, puzzled at who would be calling on him at this hour. It's too early in the week for Steven to visit, isn't it? And the Valkyrie never knocks. Who else might be showing up at his door?
The human who enters is not Steve Rogers, but a face that Thor hasn't seen in months, not since that awful day at the Garden where everything had truly fallen apart for good. Bruce Banner smiles hesitantly at Thor, though there's a startled look in his eye as he looks at what's become of his teammate. Once, that might have bothered Thor more, but he just shoves that discomfort right down and beams back at him, a genuine pang of happiness in his chest at the sight of an old friend. "Banner! I didn't know you were coming to visit."
"Hey, Thor," the human greets him, stepping further into the house, and now Thor can see Rocket at his heels. "Hope this isn't a bad time."
"No, of course not. Come in. Uh, mind the mess." Since being left to his own devices again, the housekeeping has fallen by the wayside a little, though it's nothing like the squalor he'd been heading toward before his friends had first intervened in his self-destruction. A few bottlecaps and empties is nothing compared to that. Thor sets down his half-empty glass and levers himself up off the couch, enveloping Banner in a one-armed hug. "It's good to see you. Some of the people've been asking after you, you know. You should say hello while you're in town."
Banner's smile looks pained, for some reason. "I should," he echoes, but there's a seriousness in those eyes that Thor can't ignore, something that makes his stomach clench anxiously. "I'm afraid we're not here on a social visit. We need your help."
He's not prepared for how much that hurts. That the first time Banner came to see him, it's because he needs something. Not because he wants to drop in on a friend. The irony of this moment is not lost on him, but it doesn't do much to lessen the twist of the knife in his chest, and Thor's smile freezes on his face as he turns back around to grab his mead. "If you're coming to recruit me for battle, I should tell you I've been drinking. You people frown on that, if I remember right." He takes a hefty swig of the brew, and it has the bitter taste of spite.
"No, not like that," Banner hastens to answer, but there's still a look about him that Thor doesn't like one bit. He's seen it enough people in the past few months to know it well. Trying to sugar-coat something that Thor would rather not hear, as if a few nice words might make it more palatable. "We think... we might be able to fix everything."
"Everything," Thor says flatly, keeping the human on his blind side, aware as he does so that it's beyond childish to think that this conversation could be so easily ignored. There's a blackness blossoming in his belly, like realizing he's standing on the edge of a cliff, and one careless step will send him to the bottom. He knows that feeling well, too, and though there is no amount of drink that will banish it entirely, he can't help but cling to what little comfort the mead brings.
"It sounds crazy, but I think this is legit," Rocket adds, not so subtly putting himself between Thor and his stockpile of kegs. As if that would stop him from refilling his glass. "The Boss sent us, Thor. This Scott Lang guy showed up at HQ, said he went into some quantum realm place before you-know-who snapped his fingers and came out today, just for him it was only five hours later. They're talking about time travel. Like, going back and getting the stones before all this shit, and usin' them to fix this."
With every word, the invisible fist around Thor's lungs squeezes tighter, and he sits down heavily on the couch and wraps his arm around himself as if that could halt the shaking. "No."
"No?" Banner repeats, taken aback.
"You don't... you don't get to do this to me," Thor grinds out, looking anywhere but at them, a rising chorus of failure failure failure rattling his bones. How can they come here after everything that's happened, after all the progress he's made, everything they've built, and offer him hope now? He remembers all too well what happened the last time he'd dared to hope, to place all his faith in the idea that they would reverse the Snap, and it had nearly destroyed him. It still gnaws at him some days, bleak and devouring, and it has taken every scrap of strength he has to keep it at bay. If he lets it in again... this time, it really will destroy him. "I... I can't. Don't ask me."
"Thor." Banner kneels in front of him, looking distraught and desperate. "This is real, a real chance to bring them all back. If we do this, we can save them all. Half the entire universe. But we can't do it without you. We need you. All of us, the whole team. Please."
Half the universe. Thor has tried so hard not to think about all those lives, trillions dead, and he can feel his breath beginning to wheeze in his chest. He shuts his eye and presses hard against his chest, shakily counting his heartbeats, grasping for some kind of control. This wasn't how today was supposed to go.
A chance. A chance to bring them all back. Oh, Norns, what should he do?
Thor has accepted now that he is not the hero that he'd thought he was. That he is a coward, afraid of pain and suffering that he rightly deserves, and afraid of the ultimate judgment that awaits him beyond the gates of life. His life is already suffused with shame; how much greater could it be to stay home and live out the rest of his days diminished and pathetic, as he is now?
But if there's a real chance... does he not owe it to those he failed to try? At the very least, to give himself one last opportunity to redeem himself, or at least die trying. It's so little to offer, but it's all he has.
The panic finally eases, leaving him more exhausted than before, and he lifts a weary, reddened eye to meet Banner's. This is it, then. Either the universe's one last offer to set things right, or its final and cruelest joke to set on his shoulders. And if this path should lead him off the cliff... then at least his suffering will finally be over.
"You're sure about this?" he asks, his voice weak and shaky.
Banner nods, a hand on Thor's shoulder, looking as concerned as Thor has ever seen him. "I have to be," he says, and it sounds so much like last time that Thor wants to laugh, ugly and bitter. "We have to try."
Do we? Thor thinks, and closes his eye, his entire body bowed as if shouldering the weight of this burden, and feels certain that he will break beneath it. He doesn't want to go. Doesn't want to try, and fail, and welcome his end as he should have months ago. But he is so tired. And maybe... maybe it's better, going out this way. Reclaiming some scrap of the honor he's lost, though it will never be enough. "Fine."
It's not. But Thor does not know what else to do.
He puts on his arm and pockets several bottles of mead, and follows the pair of them to the Benatar, Stormbreaker in hand.