United Chapter 71

Brenna awoke early. At least it felt early. There were no windows to see the passing of time, no clock on the wall. She could only tell time by the food that was brought to her, or whether she could see her father. Two days past, she had  awakened from a doze. When she had turned on the TV and found nothing but static, she was frantic. She had pounded on the door and yelled until the big guard named Leroy had come to the room.
Before he had entered, however, he had informed her that he was armed with a Tazer, proceeding to explain that the device would deliver a very painful electrical charge should she try to escape or otherwise harm him.
He'd then opened the door and she had begged him to tell her why she couldn't see her father.
“Doctor's orders. When he's asleep, the feed shuts down after a certain span of inactivity.”
She nodded, wiping the tears from her face and it must have touched something in the big man.
“And a little piece of advice. If I were you, I wouldn't talk about anything you don't want the Doc to know. He monitors your convos.”
Brenna thought back to what they'd talked about during that day. They had mentioned the necklace in fact, though her father had been cautious about anything he said. He had asked Brenna what compelled her to come to the Doctor's house.

“He sent me a picture of the Uruz along with the letter. I was so worried about you. I knew something had happened because you never take that necklace off.”
Her father had put a hand to his chest at the place where it would rest, “It is a symbol of the joy in my life.”
“It is dangerous in the wrong hands.”
Her father had shaken his head, “The less said about such things, the better. If one knows not what it does, it cannot be a danger.”

Now she sat on the bed, waiting, listening, watching the TV which was still blank. How long could he sleep? She heard footsteps. Likely Leroy coming to take her tray. She watched the door, heard the lock click open.
David smiled at her as he walked in. With him, he had a balding, heavyset man in green hospital pants and a black t-shirt with white lettering that read “Doctor Who” under a picture of a tall box with the word “Phone” on it. The man also sported thick glasses that he kept pushing up on his nose every few seconds.
“Brenna. This is our first experiment. I'd like you to meet our test subject, Don Macy. Don this is Brenna.”
“Youse sure dis is her name?” Don had started to extend his hand but drew it back, the other still busy with his glasses, “Cause dat's not what Harry said.” His stare was disconcerting and she looked away. “See dere, Harry said her name is Mary, furthermore, she ain't from around here.” Don grabbed David's arm, “And youse know what I mean by around here.” He winked at David who put a hand at his back.
“Brenna,” She saw Don shake his head, “Don drove taxi in the city for fifteen years, he lived in Brooklyn. Seven years ago, he was involved in a bad accident. He was in a coma for a month. When he came out of it, he had developed schizophrenia, a disease of the mind. He lost his job, his house, his wife...”
“The FBI came an' took her. Dragged her away from the dinner table on meatloaf night, the bastards.” Don put a hand to his mouth, “A damn shame.”
“remanded him here for treatment and here he stays.”
Brenna had put some distance between her and the two men and now stood by the TV. “I am very sorry to hear of it.”
David held out his hand to her and she approached but kept her own hands clasped behind her back. “And this is why we're here. Brenna, I want you to try and help him. Cure him. Let him go back to his family a whole man.”
Brenna looked at Don then at David, “I told you, I know not whether I can cure diseases. Ask me to heal an arm or a leg, a tear, a wound.”
David took Don's free hand and Don yelped, “Hey I already got fingerprinted, take it easy dere!”
“He is wounded! What's wrong with him may be the result of a brain injury. Can't you heal injuries?”
Brenna gave a quick nod but stepped back, “If it is not? Perhaps the injury awakened what was already there.” She recalled reading at the school about people who'd been injured, gone into a coma and awakened talking with a foreign accent, had been able to fix a car without ever cracking a manual, could do long sums in their heads. The list was endlessly fascinating. Here and now, however, was anything but.
“We know what hangs in the balance Brenna. Would it hurt you to try?”
“Do not threaten me.” She muttered.
David held out Don's hand again, “It's not a threat, it's a promise.”
Brenna wanted to claw his eyes out, spit in his face. Instead, she took Don's hand and shuddered. It was clammy with sweat and shaking, “Hey girly, whatcha doin'? I gots a t'ing with people touchin' on me.”
Brenna closed her eyes, seeing instead the map of Don's body laid out before her. Old fractures, tears in the ligaments of his right leg, scrapes, cuts. An old stab wound. Don started to pull his hand from hers but she growled, “Stand still!” and Don blew out a large breath that smelled of wintergreen.
Still further she looked until she found what she was looking for and she wanted to cry again. As she had expected, there was nothing there to heal. She saw the brain, saw the old damage, broken and healed blood vessels. There was nothing wrong to the naked eye. No bleeding wound. Neither was there anything do for him. She could unheal and reheal the old wound but it would do nothing to relieve his symptoms.
She let go of his hand, bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling, “I only found wounds, fractures, cuts. I saw nothing I could heal that would help him.”
Don was rubbing his hand, he'd ceased his endless quest to keep his glasses on his nose for a moment, “What'd she do? Vulcan mind meld or somethin'?  Cause she ain't gonna get nothing from me.” he tapped his head, “I was recitin' the alphabet all the while she was holding my hand, stops them from brainwashing ya.”
She looked at David, waiting for him to explode but he smiled at her. She found she would rather he'd yelled at her, “You lied.” He clapped his hands together, “You didn't try hard enough. Rest assured you will the next time.”
David put his hand on Don's back again, “Come Don, it's not safe to have you out of the ward for so long is it.”
“I told ya dat but do youse listen to me, nooo.”
She waited until the door closed behind them to rush to the TV and yell at the static, “Papa, I am so sorry! Papa!”

Loki heard the door and opened his eyes. He'd been doing something he'd not done in many ages, at least not until Brenna had run away. He had been on his knees, resting back at his heels, his hands palm up on his thighs, breathing deeply. He wanted to keep centered, clear his mind. He closed his eyes again as David walked over to him. “You still haven't eaten anything. It's been what, three days. You need your strength.”
He let David wait, breathed in, breathed out.
“Man can't go more than a week without water.”
He opened his eyes, “I do not trust your food, certainly not your water.”
“Okay, tell you what. Why don't I take a drink of the water first, in good faith.”
Loki watched David walk to the tray of food near the door, unscrew the bottle and take a swig of the water, “See? Nothing wrong with it...” Then David started to sway, caught himself against the wall, “Whoa, damnit. I guess I picked the wrong bottle...”
Loki remained impassive, in the same position until David chuckled and stood upright, “You're not much for a sense of humor are you?”
“What I would find humorous at this moment, you most certainly would not.”
David tilted his head, “For instance?”
Loki looked at the tray and smiled, “The fork wedged securely in your eye socket.”
“Hmmph,” David grunted, “you'd be right...” He waved his hand, “Alright question time, your favorite.”
David sat on the cot, “Then we're going to let you get washed up...take a real shower. Would you like that?”
Loki stood up and turned to David, “Do not talk to me as you would a child.”
He saw David had a book in his hand which he tossed onto the carpet, “Let's talk about you again because you're such an interesting subject.”
Loki bent over and picked up the book, reading the title with genuine amusement. “Norse Mythology.”
“Ancient mythology. It's what our ancestors have believed for centuries. Tell me, are you a god or is this all just bullshit?”
“To you I would seem a god. I can do spell magic, I am stronger than you many times over. I can withstand much more than your fragile bodies.”
David seemed to be writing something on the clipboard, “So that explains the facility video.”
Loki peered at him, “What?”
“When those agents shot at you. Then you killed them? Ring a bell?”
Loki walked towards him, “Battle armor, far superior, your weapons are no match for it. Asgardian steel, the smithing of the Dokkalfar. My sword could cut through the metal hull of one of the tanks your military so prize with little resistance.”
“That would be nice technology to have. Don't suppose it's available.” When Loki didn't answer he continued on, “I've read about the gods before and it's always been my belief that they're immortal. I read this book,” he pointed to the book in Loki's hands, “And it says you're not. Want to set me straight?”
Loki looked at him, “We are mortal just as you, long lived yes, but in the end, we too will die as must all beings.”
David wrote something, “What about your offspring, your wife. Are they gods?”
“Again it is a human interpretation though I would not suggest you test it.”
David stood from the cot, “You're just a very long lived strong man who knows a little magic. Tell me what everyone was so afraid of when you visited New York.”
Loki stepped closer to him, “Perhaps I shall show you how quick it is to break someone's neck and snap their spine. I have always found a demonstration is much more effective.”
David grinned, “Indeed it is.”
“Why have I not been able to speak with my daughter today?” Loki was growing irritated.
David walked past him to the door, “We had business to deal with first. You'll talk with her later.” The door slid open and Leroy walked in. Loki noted his tone was a bit more somber.
“We'll show you to the shower room.”

Loki was walked to the end of the corridor to a door which opened up to reveal six shower heads, three on each side of a tall tiled barrier which led to a tiled floor. There were windows in this room but they were narrow and high up the wall. There were wooden benches to his right and cubbyholes with towels in them.
He turned to David and Leroy, “This is part of your ritual I presume?”
“Ritual?” David seemed curious, “You mean watching people shower? I don't want you to slip away while we're not looking. Bath soap is in the dispensers on the wall.”
Loki made no move towards the showers, heard behind him footsteps and a squeaking that echoed in the tiled room.
“Your daughter isn't quite cooperating the way I want her to but she's just a young girl. I want her to help me out of the goodness of her heart but when she disobeys, can I really punish her like I wish to? No, because I don't want to hurt her, damage her. I can, however, get my point across another way.”
Loki had been staring at the shower room and he turned in time to see Leroy, pale, his jaw set, before the stream of water with the force of a linebacker took his feet from beneath him. The back of his head smacked hard on the tiled floor and he drew in a choking breath as the stream of water hit him in the face. He turned onto his hands and knees and tried to regain his footing  but the water kept him down. It felt as if tiny needles were hitting his skin, his sides, back, legs, feet, at full force. He struggled to keep his face away from the water but there was nowhere to hide. He felt as if he were drowning as he tried to shield his face from the brutal stream.
“You see, Loki. Hurt her and you get angry, maybe tear up the place a bit. Hurt you and she'll do anything we ask. It's touching really. The bond between a father and daughter.”
“Stop,” Loki tried to gasp, take a breath. Water poured into his mouth down his throat and he gagged, felt ready to vomit as the cold water hit his empty stomach. “STO...STOP!”
He managed to get his knees beneath him as he pressed up against the tile wall under the shower heads, arms wrapped about his stomach and still Leroy kept the hose aimed at him, “PLEASE!”
He cried, took a breath and put his hand to the floor, “Jeg kaller Tors lyn til min hånd!” And David was suddenly on his back on the tiled floor, groaning as Leroy slid down the wall beside the hose.
Loki felt the electricity flow through his body. He gritted his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut as it tensed every muscle in unison but at the very least the water had stopped. He let himself drop to the floor then, shivering with the cold, the pain. He wanted to cry, to scream though he refused to give David the satisfaction of hearing him.
David got slowly to his feet. He was soaked. Leroy had managed to stand up as well and he was starting for Loki when David held up his hand and spoke to Loki. “You're going to wish you hadn't done that.”
“Leroy, get him up on his feet. See how he likes being in cold wet clothes for the night.”
Leroy picked Loki up from the floor, supporting him as they walked back out into the hallway, depositing him in his room. David watched him sink to the carpet. In another day or so, he'd be begging Brenna to do what David said. He was being worn down, worn out. He was indeed just a man and all men had their breaking points. Without another word, David closed the door and headed down the corridor behind Leroy.