Author's Note and Disclaimer
Thor and associated characters are owned by whoever the wonderful people are that made – and paid for making – the assorted movies, TV shows, comics and books. (Marvel, Stan Lee, Paramount, Joss Whedon, whoever else...)
IMHO, no real spoilers in this though there are some mild ones. This is mostly because I'm too lazy to type out the scenes from the movie, even though this is post movie. Either you've seen it and know what's going on, or you haven't. There are some truly awesome analytical dissections of the various scenes in some of the other stories on the site. So look them up if you need/want to. I personally suggest and enjoy TC Stark's Mortals are So Michievious and its sequel for the excellent characterization. As a side note, I'm using whatever mythos I feel like as the mood takes me. So there will probably be some comic, some movie and some actual Norse Myth in here.
I will say that I agree with most of the other Loki fans out there. He was pushed into being what he was by a society (and family) that pretty much ignored him in favor of his 'brother.'
"The difference between Intelligence and Wisdom: A high INT score lets you cast a fireball. A high WIS score keeps you from dropping it on yourself."
-Unknown, old Dungeons and Dragons quote
Chapter One
Alyssa found him lying in the middle of a dirt road – one of the few left in the area – at three in the morning. She briefly debated calling the police and/or ambulance. He set off her senses in a way that no normal human ever had, so she decided that the hospital might be a bad idea. Especially since there was no one she'd met that had his apparent normal body temperature: he'd be lucky to register at 90F. Add in the heavily enchanted armor and she was pretty sure he was from out of town – as in out of this world.
So, she hauled him into her car. A difficult feat, since she dared not use magic to lighten the load – no telling how it would effect him – and he had at least a head on her small frame. Not that that being taller than she was was unusual, she was only five foot three. At least she'd managed to find all the bits and pieces of his armor. It had scattered all over the place.
If she'd thought getting him into the car was bad, hauling him out of it and into her house was far worse. She debated leaving him on the sofa to rest, but decided that she couldn't be that cruel. Even if pulling him up the stairs was likely to throw her back out, she just couldn't subject him to sleeping on the couch. He'd be lucky to ever wake up again if he had to sleep on that lumpy thing.
So up the stairs they went. She tried to avoid smacking his head into walls or returning to the ground floor the hard way. He... well, he spent most of his time drooling on her hair. She had him lying on the guest bed before she realized that he would have been a lot lighter without the remaining pieces of his armor. So much for her high IQ being actually useful...
Of course, there was an old D&D quote about fireballs, INT and WIS that she just wasn't about to contemplate right now... Especially since she'd just basically fireball-ed herself.
She tried to ignore the gorgeous bone structure of his face and the extremely nice abs, as she stripped him down to just his pants. She resisted the urge to run her hands through his silky dark hair... Hell, even his feet were damn near perfect. After she got him tucked under the covers, she told herself that her sweat and the heat in her cheeks were from exertion. Then she went to take a shower... a very cold shower.
As she headed to the bathroom a quick spell disguised her aura as a normal human's. Better safe than sorry.
He woke to the sound of running water and the feeling of a soft, warm bed. There was a lingering scent of vanilla and sandalwood (Of all combinations!) in the air around him. The sheets were fine cotton, crisp but almost satiny to the touch. Just faintly over the water he could hear singing: the voice was beautiful, though he was pretty sure the tune was being mangled.
He felt no one in the room, so let his eyes open to take in his surroundings. He was a bit surprised to see the amount of green in the room. Not just any green, either. His green – his favorite shade – was liberally represented in the quilt, the pillows, curtains, and even the walls. He arched an eyebrow at seeing a teddy bear – also his forest green – on a rocking chair in the corner.
Oh, there were other colors as well. The floor was charcoal, and the sheets and the accent pillows appeared to be silver. The bed, rocker and dresser were stained in darkest ebony. The ceiling, now that he looked at it, was painted like the night sky of the Winter Solstice on Midgard. At least he thought it was, the stars seemed right but it had been a while since he had seen Earth's constellations. Some chemical treatment or other made them glow in the shadowed room.
The darkness would make some rooms seem small. This one was large enough that it made it more cozy, almost a comforting den.
He sighed and rolled onto his side, the warmth of the sheets tugging gently at his consciousness as he tried to convince himself to rise and explore. He found that, though he knew he should, he simply didn't want to. The bed was relaxing and he discovered that his aches magnified a hundred-fold at the thought of leaving it.
It wasn't magic. It was the difference between relaxed muscles and tensed ones.
He yawned and snuggled more deeply into the blankets. Surely it wouldn't hurt to allow himself to rest? The last thing he heard, as he drifted back into sleep, was the shower cutting off.
Alyssa finished dressing, having tugged her blonde hair into a ponytail holder, and eased her way into the guest room. She'd finally managed to sleep last night, although she'd put up with quite a bit of tossing and turning to do so. Now, she simply wanted to check on her guest. Most notably, the bruised chest she'd seen the night before. If she'd read the bruises right, his ribs were at least cracked – possibly broken.
In his sleep, the lean male had rolled to the center of the king sized bed. She smiled a bit ruefully at the sight. Men. Always stretching out to take whatever room you allowed them. He was lying on his back at the moment, and she found her eyes lingering over his face. It was angular, and a bit on the thin side, but more than handsome enough to earn him a second or even third look from a passing female...
She shook herself out of her thoughts and reminded herself that she was hear to check on her 'patient,' not act as a voyeur. A gentle tug at the sheets gave her access to his chest, and she frowned at the bruises. Why did it always look worse the second day? Still, his breathing seemed to be regular.
She pulled out an old stethoscope she'd picked up a few years back as part of her emergency equipment, and settled on the side of the bed. She knew how shocking the cold metal could be, so she warmed it on her own skin before settling it on his chest. Her eyes drifted shut as she listened to his strong, steady heartbeat.
That sounded fine. She moved the device around a bit, listening to the air moving in and out of his lungs. No liquid or catching noises. She wasn't a doctor – not even a nurse – but she'd wager that he'd be fine as long as he let his ribs heal before he did anything strenuous. He took a deeper breath than previously, and she waited for him to let it out.
"What is that device?"
Her eyes snapped open and she blinked for a second. "A stethoscope. It allows me to check cardiovascular function."
He raised one eyebrow, and her eyes locked in on his. They were such a clear, brilliant green. Unlike hers. Hers had too much blue in them to be considered green, and far too much green to be considered blue. "And just how is my... cardiovascular function?"
She hastily looped the stethoscope around her neck and tugged the sheet back over his chest. "It seems to be well. There's no liquid in your lungs, from what I can tell, and your heart rate is regular enough. I was a bit worried about your body temperature, but it seems normal for you. I'd say you should be fine as long as you don't strain yourself for a few days. Let your ribs heal. And possibly your spine. Oh, hell, can you feel your legs? I didn't even think about spinal damage before moving you..."
She was heading into babbling. She knew it. She was almost grateful when he cut her off. "Yes, I can feel and move my feet. So, what would you suggest I do in the meantime? Lie here and be bored to tears?"
"No, no, of course not. I think you should be okay to walk, as long as you don't feel dizzy. You could watch television or play on the internet. Or I have some books you can read..." She let herself trail off, knowing that this being probably found her rather simple entertainments ridiculous. Hell, she'd found them incredibly simple and boring when she'd first tried them. Amazing what one could develop a taste for, she supposed.
One corner of his lips twisted up into a half smile. "A book would be acceptable."
She nodded. "Okay. Is there any particular genre you'd like? Fiction? History? Oh, and would you like some breakfast?"
"History is fine. And breakfast would be delightful." That smile should have been on the ten most wanted list. Alyssa was damn sure that it could cause heart attacks in older women and might just be a bad idea for every other woman's blood pressure. "I'm Loki. Where am I?"
She paused. That name explained a lot, even as it opened more questions. "Alyssa. Richmond, Virginia, USA, Earth, Milky Way, Midgard." She nodded at him, stared for a second longer – taking in the amused eyebrow he quirked at her – then left.
Loki leaned back against his pillow with a smile. Such an interesting female. A mix between bold and shy, with the strangest eyes. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen that blue-green shade in a being before. It reminded him of a tropical lagoon's waters at night: dark and yet so very vivid. He half expected to see a colorful fish or three floating around in there.
He wondered if she knew her name translated to 'truth' in his language. He doubted it. Most mortals were – from what little he'd seen – interested in the more 'classical' meanings. She probably associated it with 'sanity' or 'noble one,' depending on her favored culture. Hmph. Mortals.
She wandered in again, with a tray of food. She set it by the bed and he picked up the hint of vanilla that lingered around her. So that's why it was so pervasive in the house. Small hands gently grasped his arms, helping him to move to a sitting position, then tucked pillows behind him to prop him up. She was, he had to admit, more attentive than most healers he'd known.
She settled the tray across his lap and sat on the edge of the bed with a small black rectangle of plastic, he noted the screen and wondered if it was one of those 'tablets' he'd heard others mention. A quick explanation from her, and he was enlightened on both the name (Kindle?... How... fiery.) and the particulars of its use. "I'll be back later for the tray. Yell if you need anything."
He watched her leave, and set the device down. The food was good, if a bit mortal. Bacon, eggs and toast were piled on the plate in copious amounts. It was almost more than he could eat, but he gave it his best try. The orange juice was fresh and the coffee hot. He could get used to being waited on like this... Even in Asgard, he'd never had anyone jump to do his bidding before.
I have Loki Laufreyson in my house. One year of normalcy and I have to go pick up the God of Mischief on my way home from a party. What the hell was I thinking? Maybe I should have... No, I wouldn't leave anyone to die like that. Though he probably would have survived, I'd be berating myself from now unto eternity. At least I remembered the Kindle. I'd probably be fetching and carrying books all day if I hadn't.
She sighed as she piled the last dish in the washer. There wasn't much else to do. His shirt was in the dryer – and she really hoped that it made it through all right. There was no care tag – for obvious reasons. She shook her head, sighed again, and went into her office. Maybe she could get some work done.
Though, if he used energy like she did, he'd probably want more food soon...
He wasn't sure when he fell asleep. He was sure of when he woke up. He'd let go of the spear, only to fall from the Bifrost again and again. Every fall ended in pain and a resounding crunch. He was surprised to feel a warm, gentle hand brushing his hair back from his face, and to hear a soothing voice trying to calm him. He opened his eyes, having forgotten where he was, to focus in on hers.
There was something in them he didn't want to recognize. Sadness, understanding... if only she knew what a monster she comforted. "I apologize if I woke you."
She shook her head, and gave a gentle smile. "You didn't. I couldn't sleep either." He fought hard not to show his loss when her hand returned to her own lap. "You're sweating. Was it the nightmare, or are you too hot?"
He frowned at her. Why does she care? "The nightmare, I believe."
She just nodded and slipped her hand into the sheets to feel, before rising and going to the closet. "The sheets are soaked. I'll just change them and let you go back to sleep."
He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to go back to sleep. The memories were likely to haunt him again. No, Loki... He shook his head, and watched her rummage around for a moment before spotting a guitar in the closet. "Do you play?"
"Hmmm?" She glanced at him and then down at the instrument. "A bit. I'm not the best, but I can manage to fake it if I try." She turned with sheets in her hands, her eyes evaluating in a way he wasn't sure he liked. "Would you like me to play for you?"
He nodded and she helped him out of the bed long enough to strip it and re-dress it. He resisted the urge to tell her to let him do it himself, if only because it did hurt less to stand up with help. She frowned at his pants, and the sweat stains in the dark green fabric. He watched her leave and then she returned with a pair of sweat pants. "They were my husband's. He had about your build, so they should fit. Do you need help?"
Loki pondered bending over to pull his pants down and then the new ones up. He almost felt his ribs and spine flare at the mere thought. Reluctantly, he nodded. It wasn't that he couldn't do it, but he didn't see any real reason to put himself through further pain if he could avoid it. "I would greatly appreciate it."
She just nodded at him and made quick work of his trousers, before pulling the fresh ones on him. Her face was a little flushed, no doubt because he wasn't wearing anything underneath. He fought down the flash of curiosity about how he measured up to her previous lover. I'm a god, of course I'm more impressive than a mere mortal.
She helped him settle again and then retrieved the guitar before settling on the rocker. "Any particular song you... wait... I probably don't know your local ones. Let me think for a minute."
She stretched her tired hands and sighed. She was glad she'd chosen the song she had, as she had no doubt he would have been insulted at a standard lullaby. Voltaire's Good Night, Demon Slayer had seemed oddly appropriate. The first round through the song, he'd stayed awake. Simply to hear the words, she had no doubt. He'd smiled a bit at some of the lyrics, and had actually chuckled on being advised to tell a monster that he tasted bad.
He'd made no complaints when she'd repeated the song a second time, falling asleep halfway through. Her hand hurt though, as she'd been typing all day and hadn't played seriously in a long time. Not since she'd lost her husband, actually. 'Lost,' she snorted a bit. What a word to describe your father murdering him because he was no longer useful.
She tucked the instrument back into the closet and headed for her room. Time for her own nightly torment.
Loki woke to sun shining dimly through the thick curtains. He gingerly pulled himself out of the bed and walked across the hall to the bathroom. The room was quite luxurious for a human's abode, a fact he'd already acknowledged a few times the previous day. As it was, he settled for being pleased at the fresh towels and clothes awaiting him without even having to ask, command or cajole.
He quickly finished and decided to try joining her downstairs. He retrieved the Kindle to take with him, might as well have something to read if he wanted it. By the time he reached the bottom landing, he was seriously wondering if it were possible to trade in his spine for a new one. Every step down the stairs had jolted quite uncomfortably.
She was in the kitchen, when he found her. The strains of Mister Cellophane were quietly playing the background as she scrambled eggs. He paused in the doorway, both to watch her and to listen to her choice in music for a moment without distraction. It was interesting that she seemed to choose music that suited his own situation. How many times in Asgard has he felt invisible, even when he technically wasn't?
He let his eyes rake over her. Jeans and a t-shirt this morning, though she was barefoot. He couldn't read what was on the shirt. He knew something probably was. Her sleep shirt the night before had had some snappy comment about the village idiot on it. He doubted that her day wear had any less attitude.
She looked over at him and smiled. "Good morning. I hope you slept better."
He lowered himself gingerly into a wooden chair at the table. The room was relatively cheery, though still done in black, white and shades of green. "Much better. Thank you."
She settled a plate in front of him, quickly followed by coffee and juice. This was the first time he'd seen her eat, and he was rather astonished to note that her plate was piled just as high as his. She couldn't be more than a hundred and thirty pounds. Where did she put it all?
He almost snorted his juice through his nose when he spotted her t-shirt. Enticing someone to darkness with cookies? Where did she get these odd things?
With a mental shrug, he dug into the food. He'd find out everything he wanted to know eventually, either she'd tell him willingly or he'd suss it out with some other method. There wasn't a mortal born who could hide their true nature from him. Still, it wouldn't hurt to start the process. "You mentioned a husband?"
Alyssa sighed. She'd been a little fuzzy last night, and more than a bit embarrassed to be found touching him – even if it was in comfort. Otherwise, she'd never have mentioned him. "He's been dead almost a year now."
She watched Loki, even as she popped a piece of bacon into her mouth. He hadn't looked up from his meal, but she saw his eyebrow raise slightly. "I'm sorry to hear that. I understand it can be upsetting to lose someone you care about."
Ah, yes, Loki Silver-tongue. I was wondering when that side of him would come out to play. She outwardly smiled, even as a shaft of pain went through her. For all that it had been a marriage of political convenience, she had found herself falling for the man. In many ways, he'd been a lot like the one in front of her. He was just as broken, and nearly as powerful as the Trickster God. "It gets better, eventually. I think the hardest part is waking up alone."
He did look up at that. She knew her smile didn't reach her eyes, it hadn't since she was a child. She also knew that he was taking that in and wondering how best to use it. He was a bit like her father in that way, though she felt the comparison was a bit uncomplimentary to the deity. Her father could only aspire to his manipulative skill, if the stories were anything to go by. And, from what she remembered, Loki seldom killed without a reason. Certainly, he wouldn't do so just because he couldn't see an immediate use for someone.
He turned back to his food. "If you say so." He made it about halfway through his plate before he spoke again. "And what of you? Aren't you going to have to leave the house for... work?"
Alyssa shook her head. "I work from home as a security consultant." She let a wicked grin cross her face at some of her recent assignments. She drove regular IT professionals insane. "Companies pay me to try to break into their computer systems. You'd be amazed how much you can make at it." Of course, it helps when you're used to computer systems that are a thousand times harder to hack into. No one would believe that I'm used to thwarting actual AI when trying to gather data... And you make a lot more money when governments ask you to do it.
He nodded and sipped his coffee. She noticed his cup was almost as empty as hers and went to top them both off. She didn't drink it all day. When she worked, she preferred soda for the caffeine jolt. Tea was great for when she wanted to relax. A good Earl Grey always reminded her of sitting with Seph while talking out a tactical situation.
They'd mentally reworked and fought many of history's greatest battles during their conversations. And then her father had successfully annexed Gaia... At least he'd never found out about her home on Earth. Though it would have been difficult for him to reach it, since he couldn't cross galaxies at a whim like she could. His ships had yet to breach the galactic barrier, much less reach the Milky Way.
Loki watched her finish her meal, obviously lost in memories. He shoved aside the pang he felt at the way sadness flitted across her eyes. He shouldn't feel guilty. She'd brought the topic up last night. He glanced down at his plate, only to realize that he'd finished his meal. Well, he wouldn't let her wallow for long. "Where should I put my plate?"
She blinked at him before jumping up. "I've got it. You need to rest." She carried it to the washing cabinet – Dishwasher, he reminded himself – and placed it in with her own. "Would you like to watch TV a bit? I wouldn't suggest trying to sleep on the couch, but it's comfortable enough for sitting."
"If it won't disturb you too much." He could almost see her trying to keep her mind out of her previous thoughts. He didn't believe that a normal death – accidental or by aging – would cause this much of a wound. There was more to the story that she wasn't telling him. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to inquire further. She was hurting enough without him dragging her through it again.
"That's fine." She guided him to her living room sofa, an ancient black leather piece, and helped him settle in with both drink and remote. A quick tutorial later, he was flipping through channels like a pro. He stopped periodically to watch an episode of SVU or a bit of commentary on CNN. He was engrossed in the latest case when she settled a plate of sandwiches and another soda next to him. At least he remembered to thank her, he would later think.
She, meanwhile, had disappeared into what must be her home office. He could hear her clacking away at the keyboard. He smiled a bit at his own mental image of ones and zeroes attacking each other with mystical weapons with a castle built out of hard drives in the distance. He chuckled as he pictured a swooning file folder crying 'Oh, my hero!' Or would it be more along the lines of, 'Help! The evil sorceress is kidnapping me"?
Either way, it left a smirk on his face as he flipped to another channel.
Alyssa finished working on her latest report and wandered out into the living room. As he had been every day this week, Loki was once again ensconced on her sofa. He was reading from the Kindle with the TV quietly murmuring in the background. His trousers and tunic shirt had come through the washer and dryer just fine, though he seemed to be enjoying the ones she'd let him borrow out of Seph's old wardrobe – even if they were a little tight in the chest.
She had to smile a bit at the image he made. Seph had liked the snarky shirts just as much as she did, and she just hadn't been able to resist setting out the one with the picture of an impaled Midgar Zolom on it this morning. The caption ("My snake is bigger than your snake!") just made the joke more funny with how appropriate it was. He was the father of Jormungand, the World Serpent, after all.
He looked up and his eyes pierced her. She sometimes wondered how he seemed to see right through her. The rest of the time, she remembered that he was a god – and of manipulation and lies, at that. "I trust your work went well?"
She nodded and settled next to him. NCIS. I wonder if he's cheering for the Navy's detectives or the murderer? "Yes, indeed. The bankers are frantic about the number of vulnerabilities and I have no doubt that their IT team is plotting my demise as we speak. This is the third time they've revamped the system to try to keep me out."
He smirked at her, and she fought the urge to lean on him. It would have been nice, she'd been alone so long... Still, she had to remind herself that he wasn't one of her few friends, even if they seemed to be headed in that direction. She couldn't be sure how much she could trust him. She stole a chip out of his bowl and nodded at the Kindle. "What are you reading?"
He glanced at her again before his eyes returned to the text. "I was reading a history book on the second World War, but then I found this recommended: The Diary of Anne Frank."
Alyssa turned her eyes to the TV. "I always found it sad. I think that some people find it nightmare inducing, but I already knew how cruel man could be, even before I read it."
"Oh?"
She frowned. He'll find out eventually. Might as well assuage his curiosity a bit now. Maybe then he'll stop prying. "My father is not a nice man. He gets his way, or people die. That's the way it's been since I can remember. After growing up around his manipulations and sadism, it's kindness that was startling. Love, not torture, that frightened me." She stole another chip, letting it linger in her mouth for a moment to savor the salty flavor. "It has taken some time to adapt. But I feel..."
She his gaze, reading both curiosity and sympathy. "If it weren't for him I wouldn't be the person I am now. So, cliched as it is, I wouldn't change my childhood. I would, however, better protect those I cared for from their exposure to it."
She watched shock and realization pass through him, felt her own pain starting to well in her eyes. She pushed it down, as she had done so often before. "Want another soda?"
He nodded absently, and his mind raced as she headed into the kitchen. Her husband was dead. The wound was far worse than it should be. And her father... Oh, Mother of All, her father killed her husband! Why?
What was worse was her eyes when she said it. Pain and guilt had been prominent, but the acceptance felt like a knife in his chest. Not acceptance of the death, but that she hadn't stopped it and felt she could have done so. She accepted guilt that should be squarely laid at her father's feet – or perhaps bashed into his head. For all that he'd been a tool for Odin's use, he couldn't picture his adoptive father doing something like that to him. Hel, he wouldn't do something like that to a child of his!
Even if he did pretty much birth'em and leave'em...
She'd been close to tears. In the last week he hadn't seen a single one escape her, not even a slight welling in her eyes when she'd dropped a computer tower on her foot. She was made of far sterner stuff than even Sif. He'd wondered if she'd had some disorder, but she didn't seem to need aides to keep her eyes moist.
Her father had scarred her, horribly, but she continued on. He let his eyes drift shut for a moment and debated going after her. She would return in a moment, and he doubted that she'd accept comfort from him – even if he could try to give it. He'd never done so for anyone before.
He'd never wanted to...
He accepted the drink from her, and didn't argue when she changed the topic to discuss the episode of NCIS that was currently playing. Some part of him felt that distracting her was the least he could do. It was his questions that had brought out the pain. Even if it had been her choice to answer or not.
Before you ask, yes, this is the Alyssa from my Star Wars/Final Fantasy VII crossover. I'll give a full explanation of why/how she's on Earth in later chapters. The next five chapters are already written, I just need to type them. (And write the however many chapters after that!)
Sooooo... Like it? Hate it? Should I just give up and go back to reading other people's works? Let me know. Oh, and tell me any particular fandom you'd like to see tossed in. If I'm familiar, it may get just a mention but I'll try.