Just a short little fic for the "winter in our bones" verse, because I was feeling guilty about neglecting it so long despite having plenty of plans for it. This takes place at some point after "all this that is more than a wish is a memory." Title is a song by Explosions in the Sky.
It says something hopeful, perhaps, a bout Loki's chances for actual recovery that when Steve turns onto a narrow side road that is not part of the route they discussed, his first reaction is only mild alarm rather than blind panic. They've had no HYDRA sightings in almost a week now, serious run-ins or even near misses for somewhat longer, and Steve doesn't look as if he's suddenly fleeing pursuit. (There is always the background fear that the Soldier's programming will somehow take over again or that Steve will tire of his company, and in either case leave him to his own devices or hand him back to HYDRA, but at this point he can at least accept on a rational level that the latter outcome in particular is unlikely in the extreme.)
But there is nothing around that would indicate a reason to leave the main road, either—no towns for miles, not even a gas station or rest stop, just scrubby trees—and he is not especially fond of surprises anymore, so he says dryly, "You know, there is not much point in asking me to navigate if you are going to take the first opportunity to deviate from the route I suggested," and he rattles the map a little for emphasis.
"There was a sign," Steve says, sounding a touch awkward. "Shore access, three miles from here. I figured—we're in the middle of nowhere. Might be nice."
Loki shrugs, and the next few minutes pass in silence. The trees give way to brush and then to tall grass as Steve turns off on an even narrower track—hard-packed dirt, only slightly wider than their vehicle. Soon the grass is brushing against the camper's sides and even along its undercarriage as the path becomes increasingly overgrown. At least it is relatively smooth, although—another welcome sign of recovery—it takes quite a serious bump in the road now to cause Loki more than a trifling amount of pain.
There's no pullout at the end of the track; it just stops at the edge of a beach where the grass gives way to sand, beyond which the ocean stretches away in a vast glittering expanse. Steve glances at him with a tentative smile and exits the cab, and by the time he reaches the passenger side, Loki has already opened his door and carefully stepped out. (Eventually—the thought in itself no longer seems as impossibly surreal as it once did—he will have healed enough that he will begin to take such small actions for granted again, but for now, the relief he feels at being able to do most things for himself again is intense.)
The dry, deep sand makes for unstable footing, but Loki finds he can navigate it without undue difficulty as long as he goes slowly. Steve matches his pace without comment, staying close while managing to be unobtrusive about it. It's just warm enough that the light breeze off the water is pleasant, and it's surprisingly good to be out in the open air again.
Loki doesn't have the stamina to walk very far, still, but Steve shows no sign of minding; he stops at a pile of driftwood before Loki has to call a halt and settles himself on the sand, leaning back against the wood with a sigh. Loki copies him and finds the arrangement surprisingly comfortable.
"We used to go to Coney Island sometimes when I was a kid," Steve says after a moment. "Bucky and me, I mean, and my mom sometimes. It's on the water, like this, but it's really different—boardwalks and shops everywhere, and pretty much always crowded. I always liked it, even when it was hot enough that I shouldn't have been spending so much time outside. Something about the ocean—" He shrugs. "Always sorta wondered what it would be like, way outside the city without any people around, but I never had the chance to find out."
"And I suspect HYDRA did not make a habit of sending their Asset on seaside vacations," Loki says, bone-dry.
Steve huffs out a laugh. "You know, I think Pierce used me as a bodyguard on one of his own vacations once, but that's probably not quite the same thing."
"I imagine not." Loki tilts his head back against the driftwood and lets his eyes fall shut, focusing on the warmth of the sand beneath him, the steady rhythm of the waves, the distant crying of gulls, the slight salty tang in the air. It is…present, grounding, real, and he can feel himself truly begin to relax. Next to him, Steve is quiet too, and his breathing evens out into something more settled, more calm.
Deep inside, some tightly wound part of Loki's very self seems to untwist, just a little. He has forgotten, he realizes, how it feels to let go of even a small portion of the tension constantly weighing on him, but now he remembers, and his own breathing eases. They are still fugitives, of course, still healing in body and mind, still forever damaged, but this small moment of sunlight and silence, Steve's solid presence close beside him—it is good.
Peace, Loki thinks distantly. He had forgotten that too.
He breathes out, and sleeps, and does not dream.