#indelen

Loki was lucky to survive the devastating car crash that very nearly claimed his life. Now, resting and recuperating in his brother's home he has every care and amenity available to help his recovery. A professional physical therapist was hired by Thor Odinson to help get his brother back on his feet. But for the young woman the assignment is not nearly as straight forward as it first may seem. The accident is merely the final link in a chain of traumatic experiences that inflicted wounds far worse than any number of broken bones. And it's not as if Loki was a friendly man to begin with. Shrewd, caustic, mischievous and introverted, incapable of straightforward communication, lacking in patience and not overburdened with an excess of empathy Loki is the worst possible kind of patient to have. Unless, of course, you’re the type to enjoy the challenge…

Note: Healing Factor has 13219 hits and deserves every one, like, I was lucky to read this story as it was posted in real time and I remember thinking by the fourth chapter that it would be one of my all-time favourites. I can't praise it highly enough: the characters, the pacing, the plot points, the texting, the dialogue, the tension, the resolving of the tension. It felt like a return to my favourite works of the 2012-2015 era. Indelen's writing is quick and intelligent, questions are posed to the reader and answered as they arise. I just- I'll stop and let the work speak for itself but if you can, avoid reading the Series Title on AO3. The OFC's first name is intentionally withheld and I promise it will be SO satisfying to read the moment its revealed. And as soon as you finish, read the next installment in the series, "In Care Of", of which Indelen has just posted the ninth chapter.

- Author's Tumblr | @indelen -

It is not my habit to make semi-flirtatious banter with a man about to interview me for a job as this is, of course, completely unprofessional.

And it is definitely not my habit to make semi-flirtatious banter with a man whom I knew to be married, no matter how obviously in jest the comments were meant to be. After all, even the most innocuous joke can be misconstrued.

And yet, when the front door of a modern upstate New York home opened and nothing short of a Norse god made flesh and mortal stood before me, all that popped out of my mouth was:

“Oh, my goodness gracious! Are you the one that needs round the clock care?”

Look.

If you were there.

And you saw him.

You would have done the same.

Thor Odinson was tall, fair, with cornflower blue eyes and perfect skin. His shoulders were broad and well muscled, his posture was comfortable and assured, his expression was bright and cheery. On hearing my words, he threw his head back and laughed. Even his laughter was energy itself; pure and friendly and unpretentious. Despite myself, I felt stuck down by his charm. It’s not even that he was remarkably handsome, though of course he was, it was that he projected immense health, joy and vitality.

Loki was lucky to survive the devastating car crash that very nearly claimed his life. Now, resting and recuperating in his brother's home he has every care and amenity available to help his recovery. A professional physical therapist was hired by Thor Odinson to help get his brother back on his feet. But for the young woman the assignment is not nearly as straight forward as it first may seem. The accident is merely the final link in a chain of traumatic experiences that inflicted wounds far worse than any number of broken bones. And it's not as if Loki was a friendly man to begin with. Shrewd, caustic, mischievous and introverted, incapable of straightforward communication, lacking in patience and not overburdened with an excess of empathy Loki is the worst possible kind of patient to have. Unless, of course, you’re the type to enjoy the challenge…

- Author's AO3 -

It is not my habit to make semi-flirtatious banter with a man about to interview me for a job as this is, of course, completely unprofessional. And it is definitely not my habit to make semi-flirtatious banter with a man whom I knew to be married, no matter how obviously in jest the comments were meant to be. After all, even the most innocuous joke can be misconstrued. And yet, when the front door of a modern upstate New York home opened and nothing short of a Norse god made flesh and mortal stood before me, all that popped out of my mouth was: “Oh, my goodness gracious! Are you the one that needs round the clock care?” Look. If you were there. And you saw him. You would have done the same. Thor Odinson was tall, fair, with cornflower blue eyes and perfect skin. His shoulders were broad and well muscled, his posture was comfortable and assured, his expression was bright and cheery. On hearing my words, he threw his head back and laughed. Even his laughter was energy itself; pure and friendly and unpretentious. Despite myself, I felt stuck down by his charm. It’s not even that he was remarkably handsome, though of course he was, it was that he projected immense health, joy and vitality. I’m a physical therapist specializing in severe injury rehabilitation, so I’ve spent a good chunk of my life looking after very sick or injured people. Often in bleak conditions. I’ve met people would never walk again, talk again, who could not pick up a spoon to feed themselves. It’s a hard job, physically demanding and mentally exhausting but ultimately gratifying. It is extremely rewarding to see a patient pick up that spoon after all. But seeing sick people, day in and day out, it starts to get to you a bit and here before me was this radiant picture of healthy, well-maintained masculinity. My mouth got away from me, but to my great relief Thor took the joke as it was intended. Still chuckling, he stepped aside to let me through into the wide-open front hall of the house and rumbled: “Miss St. Clair I take it? Alas, I am not the one who requires your attention. Please come this way.”