The hybrid in the cell (Complete)

Dreams

*Emily*

I sit down on the edge of the bed, next to Loki's hip, feeling a mix of concern and frustration. I look down at him, wondering if my words have even registered. "So, are you planning to help at all?" I ask, hoping to get through to him.

He continues to stare at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. It's as if he hasn't heard me at all. The uncertainty gnaws at me. "To be honest," he finally speaks, his voice carrying a tinge of resignation, "I don't think I have much usable information to give. I don't really remember much."

I sigh, feeling a pang of disappointment. I had hoped he could shed some light on the situation. "But I kind of like them to think I got something," he confesses, his words tinged with vulnerability. "I prefer to be here than back down in that hole in the ground."

His words confuse me, and I can't help but question him further. "But what about that dream or whatever it was that you sent me?" I inquire, my gaze locked on his face, searching for any sign of understanding.

"Dream I sent you? What on earth are you talking about, woman?" he exclaims, sitting up abruptly. His furrowed brow and bewildered expression make him seem younger and more vulnerable. In that moment, I feel a surge of empathy, the urge to hold him and assure him that everything will be alright.

"Yeah, I'm with you in some... some really horrible place," I begin, my voice trembling slightly as I recount the vivid images that have haunted me. "And when you arrive on Earth, you show me your scars and ask me if I see the truth now."

He stares at me wide-eyed, disbelief etched on his face. It's as if he expects me to morph into some kind of monstrous being. I nod slowly, summoning a reassuring smile. "As I said, you show them to me in the dream, so it is true. They are real."

In a swift motion, he pulls off his T-shirt, revealing his sculpted, pale chest. The illusion that has concealed his scars begins to fade, exposing a web of red marks that cover his skin. I gasp, instinctively covering my mouth in shock.

"But I still don't understand," he murmurs, his voice laced with confusion. "A dream? I had a dream, but I don't really remember it that well. But I haven't... How do you see my dream?" His eyes lock onto mine, seeking answers.

I shrug, unable to provide a satisfactory explanation. I watch as the scars slowly fade, blending back into his skin. He nonchalantly pulls his T-shirt back on, but a sense of unease washes over me. Something isn't right. He shouldn't have the ability to create illusions like that. He did the same thing in the cell. Is he truly free from their control? Doubts begin to cloud my thoughts, overshadowing the fragile trust we have built.

Should I tell Strong? The thought weighs heavily on my mind. On one hand, it seems like the right thing to do, but on the other hand, Loki has chosen to stay despite having the power to leave. If I reveal his abilities, he might be forced to leave, and I can't bear the thought of losing his presence.

"I don't know, Loki. I actually thought it was you doing it, but it seems like I'm somehow tapping into your dreams," I confess, sending him an apologetic look. I can see the confusion in his eyes, as if he's trying to decipher something, searching for answers within me.

"Dreams, plural? Has this happened before?" he inquires, his gaze intense, as if he's hoping for more information.

"Uh, yeah, three times in total. The second time was after... well, after the incident, while I was unconscious," I explain, avoiding direct eye contact and fidgeting with my hands.

He stares at me, a mix of wonder and realization crossing his face. "What... What did you see then?" His voice holds a hint of vulnerability, and I can't help but feel a surge of compassion for him.

"I was in the cell, and I saw you broken. You... you told me you were sorry," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. I look up at him, unsure of how he will react. Will he laugh at me or become angry?

But instead of anger, his gentle hands reach for mine, holding them tightly. He takes a deep breath, his face open and sincere. "That wasn't a dream. You tapped into my feelings somehow. I... I don't know how it happened."

"Oh," I murmur, my throat suddenly dry. The physical closeness between us becomes palpable, and his fingers stroking mine send a shiver down my spine.

He looks up at me, his gaze slightly uncertain, as if he is afraid of my response. "And the last time? You mentioned three times."

"Oh, yeah. That was a long time ago, and I don't remember it very well. Something about you being out of your cell, and me... alone there," I stammer, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

To my surprise, Loki lowers his gaze, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. "Oh... That... That might have been a dream."

Oh, s**t, I think, did Loki just admit to having a naughty dream about me? My brain struggles to process the implications. Feeling overwhelmed, I pull my hands away from his grasp and hastily make my way to the bathroom. I need some cold water on my face, something to ground me in this bewildering situation.