Burke Institute

Chapter One

Written by l0velyfe

Thor had never expected to receive the call. Landing a job at Burke Institute was certainly never on his bucket list, and it definitely was not his dream job. The ad had asked for a man of considerable stature. Experience was optional, and Thor was thankful for that, because he harbored absolutely no experience of this type. Granted, he would partake in mostly manual labor – and, perhaps, physical if needed – but he was still not used to working with patients.

His first three days consisted of debriefing at a facility separate from the institute. It was without pay. They gave him a crash course to prepare him for what was to come. What to do in certain situations; how to act, how to respond to uncomfortable questions, what to do if something went terribly wrong. How to treat certain patients and how not to treat others. Quite honestly, Thor did not think he would remember it all. They prepared him for that, too; what to do when you aren't sure what to do.

Finally, the first real day was upon him. Thor's mind raced for the entire drive there. The institute was located far from civilization; about half an hour from Thor's apartment. Once he arrived, he joined the other employees in what they called 'detainment'. Dress down in simple off-white scrubs. Those with longer hair – Thor fit into this category – tied it back. No sharp objects. No rings, bracelets, watches or necklaces. Only stud earrings. Shoelaces must be tucked into shoes, no facial piercings, no clips or barrettes in hair. Hands washed, plastic gloves in each pocket; a spare, just in case. Thor could not help but feel apprehensive as they filed out into the blank white corridor. Their shoes were abnormally loud on the smooth linoleum floor. Thor tried to calm his nerves; tried to tell himself he was being irrational. They were only mental patients, after all.

Only mental patients. As they passed each person, Thor could not help but wonder why they were here. Were they just sad, or suicidal? Had they murdered someone, or were they just unable to connect with reality and cope with the real world? Thor stuck close to the group of employees, avoiding eye contact with the patients. Most of them seemed inclined to do the same. Some were wandering around, some sitting on the ground. Thor had learned in his training that most patients were given a certain amount of recess time, and he assumed now must be that time.

The senior of the group led Thor and another shorter man through the main gathering room. Thor gazed about. Although he was inexperienced, he was almost positive he could identify different disorders. Some were sulking in corners by themselves, and Thor thought those were the depressed ones. Others looked just as normal as any ordinary person walking down the sidewalk. In fact, the man casually approaching him seemed quite normal.

He was quite beautiful, Thor decided. It was strange, to think of a man as beautiful; it was a word that was typically reserved for women. But this man possessed a regal beauty. He was lithe, yet tall; nearly as tall as Thor himself. His skin was pale, and raven hair contrasted drastically as it brushed his shoulders. Startlingly emerald eyes locked on his, compelling him to halt. This man was bold; different. Thor recalled the droning voice during his training. 'Introduce yourself confidently.'

"Hello. My name is Thor," he began, more cautiously than he would have liked. Straightening himself, he stood a bit taller. "I am a new employee here and I'll be working here from now on."

The ravenet stared at him for such a long time that Thor began to regret saying anything at all. Was this man a mute? He didn't seem intimidated by him, but perhaps he was disguising it? Pools of jade scrutinized him carefully until, finally, he spoke.

"My name is Lee," he said softly, almost as if he was afraid that others around them would hear. Thor did not break eye contact to look, but he was almost positive there was no one near enough to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Lee," the blond echoed, nodding. He wanted to say more; to ask questions, but it had been made clear in his training that some patients were very uncomfortable with revealing personal information. Thor was not sure if Lee was one of those patients, but he didn't want to take that risk. He remained silent, staying true to what he had learned; patients were expected to either initiate intimate conversation, or walk away.

Lee proved that he was not the type to hide anything. "I have been here for five years and three months." Thor thought that was a long time, but he didn't say so. Lee went on to tell him a shortened version of his life's story; he had grown up in the same small town that Thor currently resided in. His parents were well-off; mother always at home and father away on business more often than not. He was calm and collected as he spoke, and when Thor looked at the clock, he was shocked to find that nearly an hour had passed by. He managed a quick goodbye and apology rather hastily and hurried off to the cafeteria. Joining the other man in moving the heavy tables for lunch, he mumbled an apology. The shorter man only laughed, as if he expected exactly what Thor had done.

"Got caught up chatting, huh?" Thor gazed at the hand stuck out before him for a few seconds, and then he grasped and shook it. "Name's Clint," the brunette offered. Thor told him his name. "We always welcome new faces. It's refreshing, you know?" Thor nodded, unsure if Clint was being sarcastic or not. He set the table down and turned to gaze at Clint as he spoke again. "So who held you up? Jack? That guy loves to talk."

"No, his name was Lee," Thor replied coolly.

Clint stared at him for a moment, almost blankly. Thor's stomach sank. Had he done something wrong? Disobeyed the rules within his first few hours on the job?

"Who?"

Thor stared for a few seconds. "... Lee. Dark hair, tall, green eyes..."

The blue-green gaze remained blank for another second, and then Clint broke into a grin. Plopping down upon the bench, he chuckled. "You, my friend, have been duped."

Thor's brows furrowed. "... What?"

Clint shook his head, lifting one foot to rest on the bench. "Your friend, Lee?" Thor nodded. "His real name's Loki. Whatever he told you, don't believe it. Don't believe anything he spits out of his mouth. He's a pathological liar."

Thor stared at the man for a moment in disbelief. Clint didn't seem to be kidding, and if he was, he was doing a hell of a good job keeping a straight face and putting on an act of disgust. The blond blinked once as it clicked in his head. "A pathological–"

"–liar? Yup," Clint said, matter-of-factly. "He comes up with a lot of different names. Always the same story, though; that doesn't change. A wealthy family, father always gone on business trips? Yeah," Clint continued as Thor nodded in agreement, still bewildered. "No one's been able to get the real story outta him. Always lies."

"What's wrong with him...?" Thor asked, slightly distraught that the man he'd thought to be quite normal was apparently very ill.

"Besides the tendency to lie out his ass? Well, he's got some pretty obvious mood issues. Some of the psychologists here think he's depressed, but a specialist visited about six months ago and diagnosed him as bipolar. Some days he seems different, though. I think he's got some multiple personality problems too. Some days, like today, he acts like any other proper gentleman that resides in a rich estate. But other days... Well, if you stick around long enough, you'll see."

Thor sat down next to Clint, gazing at the table distantly. Clint slapped him lightly on the back between his shoulder blades. "Don't look so down. S'not really his fault, you know. Don't take it personally; he does it to everyone."

The blond nodded, managing a smile, and they got back to work. By the time Thor had a break, Loki had been returned to his room.

On the way home, Thor's mind was not focused on the road before him. That night, as he lay down to sleep, he tried to rationalize the pull he felt toward the ravenet. It didn't sit quite right with him. Tomorrow he would go talk to Lee- no, Loki, he decided. Maybe the man would confess if Thor gave him the chance.

"Is Lee your real name?"

The dark-haired man tilted his head down, eyes darting anywhere but near Thor for quite some time. Finally, he sighed and shook his head quickly.

"... No."

Thor waited patiently. The raven-haired man fidgeted until, at last, he spoke again; a single word – a name. "... Loki."

"Loki." Emerald eyes met baby blue as the name rolled off his tongue. "I like Loki."

A slight smile curved his lips. "I like Thor," the smaller man said gently.

The blond smiled. "Do you want to know more about me, perhaps?" Loki nodded, jade eyes glinting with instant curiosity. "Well, I suppose I will tell you where I'm from first. I grew up in a different state, but I have lived in the town you grew up in for eight years."

"Do you live alone?" Loki asked suddenly and seriously. Thor smiled. He felt rather assured that the other man was truly interested.

"Yes, in an apartment on the west side of town. I had a roommate for a few months, but he was a drug addict and... Well, it did not quite work out." He frowned. "My mother passed when I was nineteen." Thor paused to think, unintentionally prompting Loki to ask another question.

"What about your father?"

"I never knew him," Thor admitted, shifting to rest his hand on the tabletop. He gazed at the ravenet evenly. "I guess he didn't really care to be in my life, nor my mother's." Loki was quiet after that, and Thor decided to continue. "I had to make my own way after my mother passed. I had already graduated from high school. I wanted to leave that town and its memories behind, so I moved out here. My girlfriend-at-the-time's parents helped as much as they could; that is, until we broke up. I did a lot of odd jobs, but I did not mind much. They brought me here, and I have met many new people and made new friends. I would not change anything that has happened thus far."

Loki gazed at the man's chin instead of meeting his eyes. Thor wished he wouldn't. With a soft sigh, he spoke softly; cautiously. Not because he was frightened of Loki – as most others were, he had been told – but because he did not wish to upset him. "How are you today?"

"Cold," Loki responded immediately, eyes dropping to the other man's hands.

"Would you like a sweater?"

"No. It won't help," he mumbled, shifting in his seat. He glanced around the large room. Thor frowned slightly. Abruptly, emerald eyes rose to meet his, stealing the breath from his lungs and startling him. "Do you think me mad?"

All Thor could manage in response was a breathless, throaty chuckle. Drawing in a breath through his nose, he clenched his fingers into a loose fist upon the tabletop. "... No, Loki. True, I have not known you for very long, but I do not believe you are mad. Perhaps you are troubled and burdened with incidents from your past, as is everyone. But you have not yet proven to me that you are mentally incompetent."

Loki seemed rather satisfied with that answer. Taking a sip from his glass of orange juice, he met Thor's eyes with a bit more confidence than usual.

"Well, Thor, I do not believe you are mad, either."

Dry, golden-brown leaves crunched and crackled underneath their feet as they walked down the path. A gentle autumn breeze rustled the trees around them, sending more leaves spiraling to scatter the ground. The sun peeked out from the clouds every so often, its rays warm and fleeting. Very few patients inhabited the courtyard. One would assume the cause of such was the institute's restrictions, but Thor knew better. Clint had told him that most of the patients were frightened to venture outside; either due to past experiences or irrational fear. Some were even apprehensive of the windows upon the building.

Loki was not one of those patients. In fact, with Loki, the case was the other way around. Thor had to wrestle with the supervisors of the institute for a good time before they would allow Thor to take him out into the yard. Finally, they came to the conclusion that Thor could handle Loki, should he act out, and, ultimately, they decided that it would be allowed this one time.

Now, Loki walked beside Thor, hands stuffed into his pockets, head down. Clint was right. He was different today. He looked sad; almost crestfallen, and it made Thor unhappy as well. He attempted to divert Loki's attention by initiating a conversation. He knew the man well enough by now to know he would not feel threatened or be thrown off if Thor spoke first.

"Do you like autumn?"

Loki only nodded, not raising his head as Thor glanced sideways at him. The blond tried again, wanting to hear his voice. "It is my favorite season. What is yours?"

"Winter," he whispered, almost inaudibly. Thor sighed, raising his eyes to the garden they were approaching. There were benches amongst the bushes and flowers, and Thor moved over to sit upon one. He was silent as Loki stood off to the side, hoping he would feel comfortable enough to sit beside him. Finally, the ravenet edged closer and sat beside him, not quite touching, yet not far from it either. Thor hid his smile by scratching his chin. Gazing at the flowers, he decided to ask another question.

"Do you have a favorite flower?"

"Roses," Loki answered almost too quickly. Thor nodded, gazing out at the garden wistfully.

"My mother used to have a garden in our front yard. She would tend to it for hours on end, every day. I believe it was her favorite way to pass the time. Sometimes I would help her when I was younger. I pulled weeds and clipped stems. Whatever she needed done, I did it."

Loki gazed at the blond, watching him admire the garden thoughtfully. Golden hair was pulled back into an untidy bun, scruff upon his strong jaw and chin. The slope of his nose, thin lips slightly pursed, baby blue eyes; Loki took notice of it all, observing him absentmindedly. His gaze dropped to his lap after a moment.

"Chrysanthemums."

Thor turned to look at the raven-haired man as he spoke the single word, confusion furrowing his brow. "... What?"

Loki raised his eyes to tentatively meet Thor's. "... Chrysanthemums are my favorite flower."

Thor smiled.

"Do you draw?"

Thor looked at Clint over the heavy box of kitchen supplies in his arms. He quirked an eyebrow inquisitively, shifting the box in his arms. "Draw?"

"Yeah, like landscapes and Picasso, you know." Clint grinned. "We're having an artistic convention – I guess you could call it – tomorrow afternoon. The institute does it every year. The patients and employees all draw and paint stuff, but the staff always has a little contest. First place gets a hundred bucks." Clint set his box down and brushed his hands off on his pants. "I mean, if you're any good, you could show some of the seniors what's up."

"Uh..." Thor half-dropped, half-set his heavy box next to Clint's and dragged an arm across his brow. "Nah, I can't really... Draw."

"Me neither." The brunette grinned lopsidedly, waving a hand dismissively. "I mean, I can sorta–"

Clint's words were abruptly interrupted by a loud, angry cry echoing off the white walls. The two men turned to look at each other in surprised confusion until another strangled yell followed the first. Thor acted immediately, running out of the storage room with Clint hot on his heels. Their boots echoed loudly in the corridor. The cries were coming from one of the far rooms where the group counseling sessions were usually held. Thor and Clint came to a stumbling halt as they rounded a corner and reached the source of the screams. Two large guards were hauling a thrashing, smaller patient from the room, struggling to restrain him. They turned and one of them moved to attempt to hold the patient somewhat still as the other tried to tie his wrists together with the standard white cuffs. The man threw his head back, tossing black locks from his face.

... Loki.

Thor stared as the ravenet snarled at the guard holding him, swinging a leg up in an attempt to knee him in the groin. Finally, the man seemed to have had enough and wrestled Loki to the ground, pushing him face-down into the tile floor and sitting on his upper back. The smaller man cried out again, struggling in vain. He looked up and around the room, as if searching for something to assist him in throwing the man off. He quickly noticed two men standing there, and his eyes met Thor's for a brief moment. He stilled.

And that was enough time for the irritated guard to snap the cuffs around his wrists and haul him up to his own feet. Thor had to bite his tongue as they dragged him away bodily, calling for a nurse to bring in an injection of anesthesia.