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Chapter II

It was almost seven when Gramps returned from town. He hung up his hat and wandered into the living room. "Faith," He whispered hoarsely, "Faith, where are ya."

"Right here." He spun around to see the small blonde hunched over a pile of dirty cloth spread out on the coffee table.

"I got the list of things you wanted. So where's the strange feller then? Did you get him patched up?"

"Shh," Faith gestured for him to sit down next her on the sofa. "Thanks, and yes I did, and he should be completely fine."

"Where's he got to then? And what're you staring at a pile of rubbish for anyhow?"

"It's not rubbish; it's his clothes, well what's left of them. They're just, so strange, I can't imagine…"Faith cupped her chin in her hand and glanced over at the stairway.

"Hm, well I s'pose he was just all done up for some fancy costume party or he's an actor who got lost." Gramps nodded theorizing.

"He says it's what everyone wears where he's from, it's his "Battle Attire" he says." Said Faith, raising her eyebrows meaningfully.

"Where he's from, just where's that then?"

"A place called Asgard. Oh, and get this, it's not on earth. But that's just a minor detail; we should be able to get him home soon. I'm sure NASA will be happy to give him a lift."

"Asgard?!" Gramps eyes widened and he stared for a minute, shocked. "He's an alien then? A man from space! Oh this is something else! Boy your Gran woulda loved to have been here for this!" Gramps stood up with excitement and clapped his hands.

"No, no, grandpa he's not an alien, don't be ridiculous, he's just a man who's a bit confused because he just flew through a freaking twister!" Faith whispered, slowly getting to her feet.

But the old man was far too excited to listen as he shuffled a little circle around the room. "Oh your Gran and I have always believed there were others out there, creatures or people or somethin'. Some nights we used to lay out on the porch and count the lights up there imaginin' which ones were spaceships and which ones were planets with people like ours!"

Faith grinned. She missed how excited her gramps used to get when gran was still around to fill his head with her wild imagination.

"Oh my, I've gotta talk to the little guy. Where you say you put him?" he said becoming serious.

Faith snorted. "He's not so little, he's way taller than either of us. He'd just went upstairs when you got home. I gave him a t-shirt of mine and a pair of your old jeans to put on, since his clothes will probably never be worn again." She shook her head at the dejected looking pile of scraps.

"It's no matter." Came the smooth voice of their visitor. Man and girl both turned to the stairway to look at the speaker.

Loki stood at the bottom of the stairs feeling very awkward and self-conscious. The jeans were stiff and much too large for his narrow hips, and he had them bunched in one hand. The t-shirt on the other hand, Loki had decided to like. It was soft. And green.

Faith stared at him, mouth hanging open. He looked completely out of place in the clothes she'd given him. He was too tall, and, Faith blushed, too regal for a t-shirt and jeans.

But Gramps looked ecstatic. He grasped Loki's other hand and shook it vigorously, causing him to pull his hand away in alarm, almost releasing his grip on his pants.

"What's your name then son?" Gramps asked, looking him over and stepping even closer.

"Loki." He said in unison with Faith. She smiled and he looked worriedly back to the man who was curiously walking around him now, quite set on the interesting look of his hair.

"You a rock star or somethin'? Or just one of them hippies?" Gramps chuckled pointing at his hair and giving Faith a funny look. She returned it with a look that read "shut up or I'll clock you one."

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean sir." He said, peeved that this little old man was making fun of him.

"Ignore him; he thinks a buzz cut is the way to go." Faith giggled as her gramps stood a little straighter.

"I see." Loki was only more confused than ever. If he could have his way he would still be floating around in space or lying in the dirt. That's what he deserved. That's why he'd let go back there. He just wanted to sit down and have a good sulk; instead he was having to put up with this comical pair. His "saviors".

Faith could see he was uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "Gramps, you think you could get some tomatoes from out back. I'll make a salad with supper." She smiled sweetly and widened her eyes.

Gramps got the message and reluctantly shuffled out. When she heard the screen door swing shut Faith turned back to Loki. He was staring off into space, his head hanging slightly.

"Loki," She pulled him from his reverie. "Do you want to sit down; I could get you something to drink or…something." She looked at him curiously. They had talked for a while when he'd first woken up but she didn't think either of them really got much out of it. She'd been too nervous with this dark, handsome stranger, and he'd been too agitated about being on earth.

"Yes. Thank you." He answered and sat down in the large blue armchair by the fireplace.

Faith got them each a glass of water from the fridge and sat down on the end of the couch, setting the glasses on the coffee table next to his pile of clothing.

"Here," she handed him a glass. He took it, still sullen, and still gazing off into nowhere. "Sorry about your clothes. And about not having anything better for you. Gramps only wears those baggy jeans. Or overalls but you don't strike me as the type to throw on a pair of overalls." She gives in a shy smile, trying to encourage a conversation, but he only glanced at her for moment and replied, "No, its all fine."

After a somewhat tense supper, with conversation being pretty much one sided, Gramp's side that is, Faith just wanted to flop down on her bed and sleep.

Loki had been polite, but quiet, pulling himself out of his thoughts to answer the old man's questions but taking no interest in the conversation. The girl had watched him and added a soft comment here and there, but he was too tired to notice. When the meal was finished he asked to be shown where he might spend the night.

"Oh, he can take my room; I'll sleep on the couch!" Gramps smiled. Faith looked warily at Loki. She didn't feel very comfortable knowing he would be right across the hall from her, but it was only polite she thought.

"Is that alright with you?" she asked him, getting a little impatient to turn in for the night.

"Yes. Thank you. Will you show me to my chambers?"

"Yeah." She sighed. She was getting used to the funny way he talked. It would've been charming, if he didn't seem so…down. He followed her upstairs and they stood in the doorway of her grandpa's room.

"Well, if you need anything, just call. I'm…right through there." She left him standing just inside the room.

Faith threw herself across her bed and took a deep breath. I was clear to her that something had happened to him, something worse than getting beat up by a rogue twister. No one in their right mind would look so utterly depressed to have survived a freak storm. That is, if he was in his right mind. She wondered about that, but something told her he was, and that he was telling the truth about where he came from too. Which is utterly ridiculous, she berated herself, right? It was ridiculous to think that aliens could possibly be so attractive…and human-looking. Who was she kidding; at this point she'd believe anything he said solely because he didn't seem able to make the effort to lie.

Then again he could be some psycho-alien-rapist who would kill her in her sleep and skin her or something. And she'd just told him where she slept. On impulse she jumped up and locked her door. When she finally got in bed, she was still thinking about the strange young man sleeping fifteen feet away.

At that moment, that same man was feeling very strange indeed. He had lied down on the bed, on top of the covers and stared at the ceiling. What an impossible situation he was in. Questions swirled through his mind, mingling with the pain and depression. It seemed like minutes ago that he had lost everything he'd ever know. His family, his home, his own body, that seemed to have deceived him. Who was he anyway; a fatherless, race-less boy with no future, whose past seemed all a lie. Whose rage and frustration had caused him to become blind and throw away everything he had. He blamed Thor, and Odin, and Laufey, and his mother. His mother. He remembered her face when she had told him he was the king. She had been so loving in those moments, so like herself. In the face of everything crumbling around them she had shown him a mother's love. And what had he done? Become greedy and vengeful, allowing his pent up hatred and confusion to rule him. He couldn't say he would've done differently given the chance. It was his nature. The God of mischief. That was what the mortals called him. Trickster, magician, sly-one, cunning-illusionist.

Fraud. That was what the Asgardian court called him behind his back, the boy who's too small and weak to fight, so he tricks his enemy into falling. Pathetic. Odin's second boy-child was a failure.

Loki turned over on his side. At first when he had found he had the talent of magic and illusion he'd been so excited, finally he had something that Thor didn't. He loved to practice his tricks and spells. He was so good at it too. If only Odin hadn't been so happy when Thor won his first tournament, if only he'd been a bit happier when Loki had shown him he could turn himself into different animals.

But this was all in the past, and now Loki was at a loss. Where was he going to go? He hadn't been expecting to survive. That's why he'd let go. He hated what he was and wanted it to end. Maybe that would please them, he'd thought. Oh, he had so many questions. Number one was how had he survived, and number two was why did he feel so fragile, so paper thin and weak.

It took all his leftover determination to roll himself up in the blankets and close his eyes. That was all he wanted anyway, to feel nothing. Sleep.

Though, neither he nor Faith got much sleep that night.

The next morning was Saturday, and while Faith normally slept in as late as she could, this morning she was up and out of bed the moment she smelled the coffee. She pulled on a t- shirt and a pair of shorts and tiptoed past the room that Loki was in. Although this was pointless since he was the first person she saw when she entered the kitchen. He was at the table, staring into a mug. Gramps was busy scrambling eggs and buttering a big plate of toast, creating a general hum as he shuffled along the counter. Faith rubbed her eyes as she sat down opposite Loki.

"Hi'ya. How'd you sleep?" she smiled, and tried to look cheery, but her heart wasn't in it.

Loki looked up. There were dark circles under his eyes and several of his bandages had fallen off in the night. "Good morning. I slept well thank you." And he added as an afterthought, "And you?"

"Huh, well you look awful, so I don't believe you. And I slept fine thanks." Faith chuckled grimly, cradling the cup of tea gramps set down in front of her.

"Aw don't pester the poor boy, Faith; my bed's hard as rocks. And it's too early in the morning to be chipper" Gramps said, beaming, looking like the poster-boy for early morning energy. He put two plates of eggs down, one in front of each young person, and placed the giant plate of toast in between them.

"Well I've got to be off; Jim's called in sick this morning so I gotta cover for him. I'll be back around one, darling." And he kissed Faiths temple and strode out the door.

For a moment Faith wondered if he'd left the two alone on purpose, but decided he wouldn't do that.

"You don't like the coffee, huh." She observed.

"Sorry? Oh, no I don't really care for it no." He said, eyeing the mugs steaming contents.

"Yeah, I'm not a huge fan either. Would you like some tea instead?"

"Yes. I'd like that." Faith saw him look as pleasant as he had yet, but it still wasn't a smile.

She began to prepare his tea. "So, I guess we should discuss getting you home then… what?" She turned to watch his reaction and was surprised when he looked alarmed.

"It's just; I don't plan on ever going home. And the last time I was on this planet you all didn't have a means for travelling between realms."

"You don't want to go home?" Faith sat down slowly, letting the water boil.

"No. I don't. And they don't want me back either." He said in a monotone voice.

It was clear to Faith that this might be a tricky subject. "They?"

"My father and brother. And I'm guessing the Jotuns wouldn't be too fond if I returned."

She looked at him, bewildered, and tried to just go with it. "So, if you were to return…?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if I was killed somehow." Loki met her eyes. She looked at him with shock and pity he thought. He didn't need this stupid little girl's pity; he was rightful King of Asgard. She should be bowing before him.

Faith mistook his fierce glare for anger towards his family, so she was really surprised when she reached to pat his arm that he stood abruptly, knocking the chair back and slamming his fist on the table.

"Don't you dare to pity me, you pathetic mortal. I was a King! I would have led Asgard better than my Father ever has and Thor ever could! They should have given me the respect I deserved! I would have proved myself their equal. They should have seen me as there equal! Thor would have destroyed the Jotuns with his bare hands and Odin slaughtered thousands of them in battle! My victory would have been glorious, Father would have seen that! I was always so much cleverer than Thor, yet he was always the favorite, from the beginning." He was pacing the kitchen at this point, having tossed the chair into the living room. He seemed to calm down a bit, but then he growled, "He shouldn't have let me suffer like that! He should have told me what I was! A beast, a bogeyman who parents tell their children about to keep them from mischief, a monster." He spat the last word and stormed out the back door slamming the screen after him.

Faith sat there for a moment, stunned, letting it all sink in. Well he had some daddy a minute, she thought, pity? Pathetic mortal? Who did this guy think he was? Well, a king apparently. Faith stood up and stopped the whistling kettle. Pathetic. How dare he call her that when HE was the one running about wearing a ridiculous amount of leather and saying he was an alien, a king alien.

She ran out the door after him. She could hear her grans voice in the back of her mind telling her to reign in her wild temper, but she just kept marching towards the figure of Loki, who was pacing along the back fence.

"Hey, Mister Glorious!" she shouted as she drew nearer. "Don't think you can call me pathetic in my own kitchen, barely a day after I scraped you off of the ground and practically saved your life! Who the hell do you think you are!" she stood less than a foot in front of him, blocking his path, feet spread, and hands on her hips.

"I am Loki son of Kings, born of Laufey of Jotunheim, raised by Odin All father of Asgard, wielder of magic and God among mortals, damn you!" He hissed. His face inches away from hers, his hands in fists at his side.

"Well big-flipping-news your majesty, you're in this realm now, and all that matters to me is what I see and hear, and so far I see a gangly, greasy, ungrateful, disrespectful loser, and let's just, for a second, say I believe all that nonsense about realms and glory and magic, and I do dammit, because no one could possibly pretend to be such an idiot!" Faith yelled, poking him in the chest for emphasis.

For a minute she thought he was going to strike her, but instead he whirled around and stalked off across the field behind the house. "HA." Faith yelled after him, as she strode back to the house, once again slamming the poor screen door.