I was a small town girl. I lived in a crappy, run-down apartment that I rented for cheap from a drug addict named Bill on the outskirts of Landon, Kentucky. I waitressed part-time at the local diner, Peggy's, in between taking classes at a nearby community college where I was studying to be a paralegal. My mama died of an overdose when I was eight and my dad left well before then, leaving me to be raised by my gran, who passed a few years back. I spent most of my nights from the time I was eighteen until the time I was twenty-two taking my clothes off for money and the rest of the nights in between doing worse for it. There was nothing special about me. More important to this story though, nothing special ever happened to me. Not until he came along.

It was nearly three years ago today. I remember it well because it was just two days before my twenty-sixth birthday. I had gone for a walk down to the quarry with Sam, the man I had been dating at the time. Sam wasn't the best choice I ever made, but in these parts the men are so few and far between you do well to convince you've got the pick of the litter. In this case, the pick of the litter was a forty year old drunk who paid my college tuition but spent as much time giving me a black eye and cracked ribs as he did at the bar. You can only imagine what the rest were like.

Now, I'm not saying all of Kentucky was as bad as Landon. Kentucky is a beautiful state, with plenty of lovely people in it. I just happened to live in one particularly unsavory town, where the only thing exciting to ever happen was President Carter passing through on business in the late 70s. Allegedly he stopped at Peggy's and said their chicken pot pie was the best he'd ever had. "Jimmy's Pot Pie" is still on the menu.

Anyways, I digress.

"You look mighty fine tonight, darlin'," Sam said as we walked, taking a swig of his beer with one hand, wrapping his free hand around my waist to grab my butt.

I flinched, taking an extra long sip of my own beer. Whatever possessed me to get involved with a man like that, I couldn't say. In the beginning, I thought he was sweet. By continuing our relationship I hoped I would someday see that same man again, but I never did. I suppose I could make excuses all day, but in the end, I knew why I was with him. I was a semester away from finishing my degree. After graduation, I'd drive away from this county and never look back.

As we reached the quarry, we sat, letting our feet dangle off the rocks over the water far below. He wrapped his arm around me as a breeze picked up and pulled me towards him, forcing us both on our backs. I looked up and sighed. The good thing about living in the country, the only thing really, was how visible every bit of the night sky was.

"You ever wonder what's really up there?" I asked as I stared up at the stars in wonder, not caring at all what his response would be. Just recently, mixed reports had come out of a small town in New Mexico about possible aliens - "Gods dropping out of the sky" - and all that. It wasn't entirely unbelievable what with all of the strange "superhero" goings on at the time in our country, but aliens would have been a first. As usual though, the only video footage was horribly blurry. Also, New Mexico didn't exactly have the best reputation for credible accounts of alien life.

"Ain't nothin' up there," he scoffed, grabbing a few pebbles to toss over the edge of the rocks.

"That's Orion's belt," I continued, ignoring him as I pointed to three stars lined up closely together in a row. I smiled. As a girl, I spent many nights up at the quarry, mapping out constellations from an old book I found at the library, hoping, wishing that there was more out there. No matter how sad or isolated I felt, no matter how people endlessly disappointed me, when I looked up at that night sky, when I found Orion, I knew everything would be okay. I knew I wasn't alone.

"Here, have my belt," he laughed idiotically, grabbing my hand and placing it over his buckle.

"No," I said, rolling my eyes as I pulled my hand away. "Not now."

"Aw, come on," he said, taking another long swig of his beer. "When was the last time we made love in the great outdoors?"

"Oh, I don't know... two, three days ago."

"Been that long, huh?"

"Not long enough," I mumbled, pulling my sweater tightly around me as I sat up, throwing back the rest of my beer. I hated when he'd refer to our intolerable fuck sessions as making love. I had never made love. The concept was laughable.

"What did you say?" he said, grabbing my elbow harshly and turning me back towards him. His mood always turned on a dime, alcohol or no alcohol.

"Give it a rest, Sam," I said, struggling to free myself from his grip. I should have been much more afraid of him than I was, but I could never be silent. The state of my face often reflected that.

"Ungrateful bitch," he said, surprisingly letting me go. Sometimes I got lucky. Other times, not so much.

He was the son of the wealthiest man in town and all he ever did was piss away his inheritance on strippers and booze. Most times I felt like his prostitute, and I guess I was, since the relationship was for money and about as loveless as you could get. He paid for my college and in return I'd sleep with him and provide some sort of companionship for the miserable bastard. I wasn't proud of it, but coming from a family who didn't have two dimes to rub together, I knew it was one of the fastest ways out of the hellhole that was this county.

"How was the bar earlier?" I said, trying to change the subject as I lit a cigarette and took a few drags. "Did you see Marlene?"

"Nope. Haven't seen that cunt in weeks."

"She's your mother."

"Do I look like I give a fuck?"

"It was just a question."

"I'm tired of your mouth," he said, reaching down to unzip his fly. "Put it to better use."

"I already told you no," I sighed, knowing this was about to go down one of two ways. Me giving him what he wanted, or me lying face down, passed out in a pool of my own blood while he took what he wanted. Most times, I didn't fight him. Tonight was different. I felt inexplicably brave.

"Come here," he said, grabbing me forcefully, but as soon as he did, a bright light flashed across the sky just above us. A massive green orb tumbled through the atmosphere, crashing in the woods less than about a mile away. Several moments later we heard a noise that sounded like a man yelling in pain. We stood, paralyzed.

"What the fuck," Sam whispered, clearly shaken even in his drunken state.

"Someone's hurt by it," I said, more concerned about the voice yelling in the woods than the brilliant, beautiful globe that had just shot out of the sky. "I'm going in."

"The hell you are!"

"Sam, there is a man in there and he is in pain. I'm not going to just leave him!"

"That's what the authorities are for, damnit!"

"GO HOME THEN," I yelled, surprising even myself as I took off quickly into the woods. I listened, afraid of hearing his footsteps charging after me, but to my surprise he didn't follow. I remember thinking at the time that I was certain I would get it later, but I didn't care.

I ran for several minutes towards the sound of the voice, but it didn't last long. Instead, I used the faint, green glow emanating from the middle of the woods as my guide, certain that if I ran after it I could find the man that was hurt, and hopefully in time. I slowed as I reached the light, slightly fearful of whatever I was about to see or find. I had no experience in dealing with mangled limbs or dead bodies, but I had taken a first aid class in high school and still recalled much of what I had learned. As I walked closer and stepped out behind a large tree to get a better look, I abruptly stopped in my tracks.

In a clearing less than twenty feet in front of me was a man lying on his back, motionless, his eyes closed. The faint green light danced around him like a thousand fireflies gathering together on a summer's night. It was breathtaking. I didn't know much about what I was witnessing, but I think I accepted immediately that he was not from this world.

I walked over and crouched down beside him, relieved as soon I saw the rise and fall of his chest. I studied his dark, slicked back hair, his pale skin, his strong cheekbones - he was mesmerizing. His peculiar black leather garb and green cape made him look like he had just waltzed out of one of those nerd conventions, only he looked so natural in it. I watched as the embers moved lively around his form, concentrating only on specific areas at a time. It was then I realized that the light was trying to heal him.

I shifted to get a better look at his face. There were no cuts or scratches that I could see, no obvious blood to be found anywhere. I noticed, even though he was unconscious, that fresh tears stained his cheeks. It was unsettling. Boy, why are you crying? I automatically recalled Wendy asking Peter Pan in a line from my favorite story as a child.

"Hello?" I whispered, fighting a strong urge to touch his hand, to rouse him in some way, but I had a feeling I was not to disturb whatever process was taking place.

I sat beside him for a while with my knees pulled under my chin, watching the lights in awe. As the cold sank in, I felt myself drifting off. I remember thinking briefly about Sam, wondering why he hadn't called for help, then reminded myself he was probably passed out in a ditch somewhere. It was a long while before there was any sign of movement, but once I heard the bed of leaves rustling next to me, I was wide awake once more.

His eyes remained closed, but the rest of him was beginning to move. He looked as though he were awakening from a deep sleep, though his expression was clearly pained.

"Try not to move so much," I said calmly, trying not to startle him. "Are you hurt?"

At the sound of my voice, his eyes flew open. His head turned slowly to look up at me, his striking eyes piercing mine. I swallowed. He looked like someone who had woken up only to realize they were still knee-deep in their own nightmare. I knew that feeling.

"Hi."

"Ugh," he groaned, closing his eyes once more. His voice was raspy and hoarse. "Midgard."

Midgard? I thought to myself, unaware of the term though it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Let me help you," I said, starting towards him but he pinned me once again with those eyes, and weakly held up his hand in protest.

"Don't. Touch me."

"Look," I said, my patience wearing thin as the cold wind whipped around me. "I have to get you to a doctor. It's the middle of the night and there could be... well, anything lurking in these woods."

"I promise you," he said as he managed to push himself up to a sitting position, his angry, bitter eyes boring into mine as he breathed heavily. "I am the worst thing in these woods."

"Well, I'm not afraid."

"I applaud your courage, truly," he replied, the feigned lightness in his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you will be."

You'd have to do some pretty terrible things to compete with the men around here, I thought to myself, my fingers flocking to my bruised right eye which was, thankfully, covered in makeup. "Why were you crying?"

"What?"

"You were crying. Your face is still wet."

"I was not crying, I can assure you," he snapped, reaching up casually to wipe his face.

"You're a liar."

A dark, maniacal laugh escaped his lips. "Oh, you have no idea."

Something about the tone in his voice sent a chill up my spine, but I ignored it, convincing myself it had something to do with the weather. "So are you like, an alien or something?"

He sighed heavily and put his head down in his hands between his knees, ignoring my question. "Pray tell, where exactly have I landed on your precious Earth?"

"Kentucky," I half-smiled, almost proud to break the bad news. "Landon, Kentucky in the good old U.S. of A. Congrats. Of all the places to fall, you certainly picked one of the worst."

"I didn't have much of a choice. And I'm not exactly planning on staying."

"No? Then you won't mind if I just - go now?" I gestured with my hands.

"Hardly."

I shrugged casually and turned to walk away, thinking that if I was ever going to get him to come willingly I had to do something a bit more drastic. I didn't make it very far before -

"HEIMDALL! OPEN THE-"

He trailed off, never finishing the strange sentence. I whirled around in time to see him pitifully trying to pull himself up against a tree trunk. He was still too weak. I watched as he then focused on his hands. Golden embers shot from his fingertips briefly before burning out. I stared in awe.

"Damn!" he exclaimed loudly, shaking his head in frustration. He tried once more to lift himself to his feet, but just before he could fall again, I ran to his side.

"Jesus, you weigh a lot," I winced, wrapping my arms around his leather-clad torso as I struggled to pull him upright.

"I told you-" he protested, but made no effort to shove me off. "Not to touch me."

"And I didn't listen. And now you're standing," I said calmly, steadying him on his feet before letting go. "You're welcome."

I thought for a moment he was going to lean forward and strangle me, but instead he turned away and began very slowly walking himself around, holding his lower back with one hand as he did so.

"Well?" I asked after several minutes, placing my hands on my hips impatiently, silently wondering if all aliens had british accents.

"Well, what?" he snapped, not turning back to look at me.

"Can we go now?"

"Will you cease your incessant babbling if I say yes?"

"Probably not," I laughed, thoroughly enjoying the rise I was getting out of him. "But I'll try."

He sighed heavily once more and looked up at the night sky, like he was waiting for it to suck him back up or something. I decided to start walking, figuring he would follow if he wanted and he did. We walked through the woods in complete silence for what seemed like forever, slowing down at times so that he could catch his breath. Once we reached the quarry I turned back to him and pointed in the direction of my apartment, hoping with everything in me that Sam would be back at his house by now.

"My place is just a few minutes from here. We can stop, if you need to."

He shook his head and continued to walk, always several paces behind me. I thought it strange that I was more comfortable with letting this man, this being, who I didn't know at all into my home than I was with Sam. Sam wanted me to come live with him, probably so I cook and clean for him, but I always refused. My apartment, while small and run down, was really all I had left of myself.

I turned the corner of my driveway, breathing a huge sigh of relief when I saw that Sam's truck had gone.

"Oh, you have got to be joking," he said as he took one look at the shack I called home, wincing in pain with every step he took.

"It's not much," I said, annoyed at his slight, rubbing my eyes from sheer exhaustion. "But it sure beats sleeping in those woods."

"Are you so certain of that?"

"Do you have deer ticks, wherever you're from?"

"No."

"Then yeah, I'm certain. I'm Claire, by the way," I said, holding out my hand like a idiot as we reached my front door. He looked from my dilapidated home to my hand in complete disgust, staring at me like I was speaking a different language. "Okay, first order of business, I don't let strange men like you into my apartment without knowing their names."

"Well," he replied, leaning against my porch rail to rest. "First order of business. There are no men like me."

I burst out laughing, which seemed to further ignite his wrath. "Wow. Haven't heard that line before," I said as I pulled my keys from my pocket and flipped on the porch light, shaking my head as I looked back at him. "All men are the damn same, no matter what planet they're from."

He took a small step toward me and looked at my face, a little longer than I was comfortable with. His brow furrowed. I turned quickly away from his gaze and pushed the door open, tossing my keys down on the kitchen table. It took me several moments to realize that he didn't follow me in.

I looked back at the door, wondering what his problem was now. He was still standing outside, just before the threshold, looking in through the screen door at me.

"What is it?" I said, walking back over to him.

"Loki."

"What?"

"My name is Loki," he swallowed, as though the words were difficult for him to say. "May I enter?"

It took me a moment to get over the shock of his propriety, but I nodded, grateful for it all the same. I was only half-joking about the name thing, and no man had ever had the decency to knock nevermind ask to come in, but he seemed to take me quite literally. I wasn't sure what caused the sudden decorum, but it was, in a strange way, endearing.

As he entered, I stopped as I caught sight of myself in the mirror on the wall behind the door. The makeup around my eye had worn off at some point and my bruised, unsightly face stared back at me.