A/N: This fic (my first attempt at writing Loki) is set post-TRF, and after The Avengers with the thought that Loki somehow escaped Thor at the end of the movie. Thanks for reading!
Dedicated to Halle, the best sister in all nine realms. Happy Birthday, Halle! Love you!
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, "I just don't care"?
He's bruised, bloody, scraped, and ragged-looking, slumped in a doorway a few feet away from her flat's main lobby. His dark hair hangs over his sunken eyes, his strange garb drenched from the freezing rain.
Her heart breaks at the sight of him. He looks broken, and all too similar to a man she found years ago – a detective, a genius – slumped in that same doorway, overdosing on heroin.
She always takes care of the broken ones, she realizes bitterly. She always ends up involved with the damaged ones, trying to fix them even if they don't want to be fixed. It's her blessing, her gift – and her curse.
Without hesitation, she approaches him like she would a skittish horse – slow and steady, quiet, gentle, careful. No sudden, startling movements that might hurt him even more than he already is.
She crouches down beside him, her umbrella capturing him beneath its wide canopy. When he does not glance up at her presence, she gently places her hand on his arm, hoping to coax his gaze up to hers.
Still nothing.
Forcing away her usual timidity, she asks, "Are you alright?"
He gives a small start at the sound of her voice, blinking the rain away from his eyelashes. The brilliant blue-green hue of his eyes startles her for a second as his gaze locks on hers through the dark, stringy strands of his hair still dripping with water.
She is mesmerized by the intelligence shining through his eyes. It's the kind of intelligence she's only seen in a high-functioning sociopath, and a madman she believed to be an intern from the hospital. It's the kind of intelligence that makes her ponder her incompetence, and that of countless other goldfish swimming through daily life. It's the kind of intelligence that simultaneously frightens and amazes her.
She's learned the hard way just how incredibly dangerous this intellect can be. Countless times, she has found herself in the line of fire, so to speak, involved with others with this same look.
Maybe it's just my type.
She fights back a smirk as the thought crosses her mind.
He still hasn't answered her.
"I'm Molly," she says quietly, trying a different tactic. "I live right down the street. Do you need help?"
Glancing down briefly at her hand (still resting loosely on his arm), he slowly nods his head twice. Yes.
"Okay. Well, we'll have to walk a few doors down." Swallowing the sudden fear of inviting a stranger into her home, Molly keeps her eyes fixed on his penetrating gaze. "Can you manage to stand?"
Without even so much as another nod, he begins to push himself off the pavement, forcing her to jump back quickly to give him room.
As soon as his feet are under him, though, he loses his balance, stumbling sideways. Molly tosses her umbrella down and throws her arm around his waist, catching him before he can collapse and cause himself more damage. Grabbing his left arm in her free hand, she tosses it over her shoulder, transferring his body weight onto her. For a split second, she thinks he's speaking to her, but then realizes he's growling at himself and his weakness, his eyes flashing dangerously.
Molly would recognize that look of self-loathing anywhere. It's a look she's become far too familiar with these past few months, being forced to see it daily in the eyes of the man who couldn't stop his best friend from jumping off a roof, or the detective inspector who blames himself for the same tragedy. But it's also a look she has seen countless times in the mirror, her own eyes staring at herself with anger and hatred for her shy, pushover tendencies.
The man finally seems to notice Molly's attention, looking down at her from his looming height. His eyes darken considerably, replacing the look of the wounded animal she found huddled in the corner with something completely new and dangerous.
Swallowing anxiously, Molly breaks his gaze and begins to guide him towards her flat. As they stumble down the road, the pouring rain drenching them both, she can't help but wonder what on Earth she's gotten herself into this time.
To be continued…