Disclaimer:I don't own anything except Mrs Renault.

Frozen Numb

Chapter 1

Loki walked into his building with barely slumped shoulders. He took off his coat in the elevator cab and pressed a button absently leaning against the side. Just as the doors closed, Mrs Renault from downstairs appeared and he pressed a button to stave off its closing doors. She stepped in with a smile and a cane.

"Thank you young man."

"It's no problem at all." He replied with a smile.

"Haven't seen you in a while."

"My experiment at the university had me observing planets late at night. This is the first time I'll be sleeping in my bed in a week." He sighed and she chuckled.

"Oh I'm sure it's fine, you're young you must be used to late nights." She said in an innuendo laden voice.

Loki smiled even if for a different reason than she thought. He was older than her by far, older than most things in this world. There might be a tree or two that might have outlasted him but he wasn't sure of that.

"No late nights for me anymore. I'm a creature of habit I'm afraid and this change in my schedule is…distressing."

Before she could respond the doors opened with a ding and she got off after eliciting a promise from him to take care of himself. Once she was gone he went back to leaning his head against the wall and waited. Before long he was walking out and unlocking his own door. The multiple locks took some time but he made quick work of them his body working on autopilot, exhaustion etched into his face and he was in his home within seconds.

All hints of emotion dropped from his face. He stood taller now and absently set about making his dinner, a little dish of pesto pasta and sat on the tiny table and ate.

When imitating niceties had become habit he didn't quite know but it was worth it to take the slight trouble and avoid unnecessary problems later when his neighbours thought him to be a sociopath and called the police.

He wasn't a sociopath he was just numb.

He leaned back in his chair and observed his surroundings. The dotted cream wallpaper that looked almost brown with dullness especially in the pale yellow light form the fixtures, peeling at the corner to reveal bricks. Second hand fridge that didn't cool anything much in a kitchenette that he had to duck his head to enter.

He sat on the only chair in his house, the worn sofa standing in front of a small TV that only received News channels and served as his bed on most nights when he couldn't be bothered to move to the mattress in his bedroom.

His room in Asgard was beyond luxury in comparison but then so was his prison cell. And yet this little space was where he'd felt most free in the past centuries, when he felt anything at all. It was rare but occasionally he did feel that slight spark indicating emotion.

It never lasted for long.