Loki felt it the moment Sif had left. He whirled around anxiously, hoping that he was mistaken, hoping that his eyes would find hers somewhere in the heavy crowd, but she was nowhere to be found. Standing with her arms crossed in her friend's stead was Jane, tapping her foot, looking livid.
"What happened?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe it had something to do with that leggy blonde you had your arms around!" she snapped angrily, throwing her arms in the air, practically hitting him in the face. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
"It's not what you think, but I don't have time to explain," he said exasperatedly, running his fingers through his hair as he looked anxiously at the door. "Do you have any idea where she was going?"
"She went right," she sighed after a moment, realizing by the fear in his eyes that he was being sincere. "If she didn't get a cab home, she probably went to the park."
"Thanks."
Sif took off her heels and ran as fast as she could into the freezing night, hoping that if she ran long and hard enough she would forget all about Loki Odinson and the attractive blonde that he had his arms so comfortably around. It was all so predictable, and yet, for a brief moment, she had forgotten all about who he was and what he was. And in that brief, dangerous moment, as idiotic as it was and as much as it grieved her, she knew she had completely fallen for him.
By the time it even occurred to her to get a cab home, Sif found herself standing in a quiet, remote corner of Central Park. She bent down to put her shoes back on, moving her feet to improve the circulation in her frozen toes, swearing as she did so. She sighed as she reached into her bag for her lighter, hoping her cigarettes would stave off the cold a while longer, but she still couldn't seem to find the damn thing.
"What the HELL was I thinking?" she yelled angrily to no one as she tried to catch her breath, startling two nearby birds from their nests. Never before had a man had this much of an impact on her. Why did she care so much? His touch made her feel homesick for a place she had no idea she had been missing until now.
Suddenly, a pale green light flashed out of the corner of her eyes. She turned to get a better look, but nothing was there except for two black birds perched on top of a tall, bronze statue surrounded by several tall shrubs; something that you would miss entirely if you weren't looking for it.
Sif curiously made her way over to it, shivering as she looked up into the face of the tall, serious figure that seemed to be pointing in the direction of something of importance; something that wasn't there. She looked into his eyes, familiar eyes that felt as if they were staring into her soul. The faint orange glow from a nearby lamp post gave light to the plaque beneath his feet.
"Heimdall," she whispered inexplicably in awe as her fingers traced the outline of the words. "Keeper of the Bifröst Bridge."
Heimdall. Sif had certainly heard that peculiar name before, somewhere, at some time. The name of the bridge also sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it either. She shivered, rubbing her arms vigorously to create warmth and then sat against the base of the statue. She watched her breath dance in front of her face as her thoughts turned back to Loki.
Sif had always been a fairly level-headed woman when it came to men. She could blame it on the fact that she was a workaholic, but none of the guys she had been with ever held her interest for very long. Truth be told, she didn't realize how much she didn't care for them until the day she first met Loki at the office. His stark blue eyes, kind yet dangerous. His casual yet cocky demeanor. His surprisingly gentle hand in hers the very first time they were introduced. Ever since that day he always looked at her the same, like she was the only woman in existence. But she had been delusional. She was nothing more than another one of his many conquests.
No! Something deep within her yelled. He felt it too! But she quickly shook off the thought and wiped a tear angrily from her face. What she had said was true. He was a prick that made an exorbitant amount of money for his position (as talented as he was) simply because his father owned the company. He was handsome, rich, he could have any girl he wanted - what did he want with her?
She knew that she was in serious trouble when it came to Loki. She also knew that if she stayed out much longer she would probably freeze to death, but, lost within her own thoughts, she couldn't will herself to move.
"I'm not sure where the Bifröst Bridge is," she whispered up to no one, shivering violently, vaguely feeling the need to doze off. "But I'd almost certainly rather be there than here."
Loki didn't know how he knew, but he sensed that Sif hadn't gone home. He ordered his driver to follow him as he walked the quickest route to the park, peering down alleyways, trying not to panic at the fact that it was below freezing and he was holding her coat and scarf in his hands. He yelled her name frequently, paying no mind to the odd looks he was getting from passing strangers. He eventually crossed the street, waving at his driver to stay put, his jog turning into a sprint as he headed down the nearest path into the park.
"Sif!" he yelled desperately, his voice becoming hoarse in the cold night air. He squinted in the dark to see if there was any sign of her or someone he could question, but there wasn't a soul in sight. He picked up the pace once more and continued down a dimly lit path, praying that he was going in the right direction.
Sif could no longer feel her fingers and toes. She knew this was probably a good sign to get herself up and back to a cab, but she found herself far too exhausted. She tried to force herself to stand, but the desire to sleep was much stronger. As soon as she sat back down she heard Loki calling for her, but the person that stepped out under the light of the nearby lamp post was not at all who she expected to see.
A tall, pale man clad entirely in a strange green, gold and black leather getup stood less than twenty yards in front of her, trying to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. His messy black hair fell just past his shoulders and the dark circles under his eerily familiar eyes made him look positively menacing. Sif ducked back into the shadows against the statue, peering out at him cautiously, curiously, feeling much more entranced than afraid. She knew that man.
Out of nowhere her head began to pound and her mind flooded with visions - far too many at once. She saw the flash of a rainbow bridge, a golden kingdom in the sky, a pale boy with dark hair pulling her into a kiss in the middle of a lush green meadow under an endless night sky. They fought countless battles both together and alongside one another. She remembered the boy, older now, making fierce love to her in that same broad meadow - but who was he? She could feel his long, cold hands gently caressing her sides, his lips expertly kissing her breasts. She could clearly see the pained yet amorous look in his eyes as he buried himself deep within her, but still, his name would not come.
"Sif? Sif are you here?"
The vision changed quickly. She saw the face of a metal robot in the middle of a desert. So many familiar faces in her mind now. Thor. Fandral. Hogun. Volstagg. Jane Foster. The names came to her quickly, but she could not remember his. She remembered their first goodbye. He fell, and she was never the same again. No one was. He returned from the dead changed, sad, reckless, locked away from her in a prison where she could not reach him. She pounded on the glass. He could not see her. He could not hear her. He never even knew she was there.
He was gone once more. When he returned in a way that was worse than the previous, it wasn't long before the sky fell. They were doomed. The golden kingdom was on fire. She remembered the man she loved and the hell he had caused, inadvertently or not, she couldn't remember. She saw Odin conversing with the mad titan that looked very much like the pile of rocks he tirelessly sought after; Thanos was his name. And he was the end.
Sif's eyes shot open. She found herself staring up at the same statue who seemed to be pointing at something more intently than before. She hazily followed the direction of his finger until her gaze fell upon the same man from her visions. Hours seemed to have just passed in what were actually seconds, for he was still standing there, winded, underneath the light of the same lamp post, no longer dressed in his peculiar leather garb. He was Loki Odinson, creative director at Borson & Sons.
Only he wasn't. He was Loki. Of Asgard. And she had loved him for hundreds of years.
"Loki," her eyes widened as she whispered his name in wonder, as if she were saying it for the first and yet the billionth time. She tried to pull herself up weakly using the statue's hand as leverage, her labored gasps for air breaking into sobs. Once she found her voice, she screamed for him like she had in the days when she thought he was dead. Like she had all of those nights he couldn't see her outside of his cell.
Loki's skin prickled. The sound of his name leaving her lips with such desperation unsettled something deep within him. He turned and ran as soon as he spotted her by the statue, catching her in his arms just before she collapsed. She was freezing.
"SIF!" he cried as he hastily tore off his coat and wrapped it tightly around her. He added her coat on top of it and placed the scarf quickly around her neck and ears. She stirred and sighed against him. "Hey, HEY," he cooed nervously, gently shaking her face in his hands as she began to nod off again. "Stay with me, darling. Stay with me."
He looked around frantically for help, but the park was still a ghost town. He picked her up effortlessly in his arms and held her tightly against his chest, bending down quickly to grab her bag before taking off in the direction of the car. She would be alright, he told himself as he ran. She had to be.
"You found me," she said quietly, beaming up at him through hazy eyes. It startled him. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her. Hell, it was just about the happiest anyone had ever been to see him. She looked different, peaceful even. She hadn't had that much to drink, he thought, unless she was toting a flask in her purse. He wouldn't put that past her.
"Damnit, Sif," he said angrily, his nostrils flaring as his eyes watered. She was frightening him. "No more running off, alright?"
"Hmm, no, that's your job, silver-tongue," she smiled as she rested comfortably against him, her hand weakly reaching up to playfully pull down on his tie. "Midgard suits you."
Silver-tongue? Midgard? Loki would have stopped dead in his tracks if not for the harrowing circumstances. The names strongly resonated with him, but he could not place them. His brow furrowed. What did she mean that was his job? She's delirious from the cold, he thought. He ran even faster.
When they finally reached the road, he set her down gently on the sidewalk and held her up by her waist with one arm, waving his driver frantically over with the other. He glanced down at her, grateful that she seemed a bit more alert albeit sad and seemingly lost in thought.
Her eyes watered as she reached up to place a hand on his cheek, pulling his forehead against hers, her lips inches away from his. He found her again. But why were they here? On Midgard? In these strange clothes, in this strange city... where were the others? She remembered the destruction of Asgard, but the very end was unclear now. She opened her mouth, but words failed her. She didn't care. They were together again.
Loki swallowed as her eyes intensely searched his and her fingers snaked through his hair, but he did not budge. She had never looked at him or touched him in such an intimate way. It was paralyzing.
"Sir?"
"Blast the heat," Loki said quietly to the driver who was waiting for instruction. He looked at her for one long moment, brushing his thumb gently against her lips before hesitantly breaking away.
They quickly helped her into the warmth of the car and Loki climbed in beside her, covering her with several tartan blankets he found in a neat pile on the floor. He tried hard not to think about the way she had just been looking at him.
Sif's head began to pound. Any of the visions that came to her quickly faded as the warm air swept over her. Before she had time to react, to be sad or afraid at the thought of losing Loki, of losing her past once more, it was all gone. She remembered the bar, she remembered the blonde, she remembered nearly freezing to death in Central Park. She remembered no more.
"To the hospital. Fast as you can," Loki ordered as he ran his fingers anxiously through his hair, watching her slump against the window.
"No," she coughed, conscious enough to be embarrassed for the commotion she was causing. She didn't know much at that moment, but she knew she preferred her own bed over a hospital one. "I'd like to go home. Please."
"Sif, I really think you need-"
"Please," she repeated, her worn out gaze finally meeting his. His stomach turned as he looked at her tired eyes, her pale skin, her beautiful lips faintly tinted a pale blue. What would have happened to her if he didn't reach her when he did? He couldn't think about it.
His jaw tightened then relaxed as he stared at her. If she had been anything like the way she was just ten minutes ago he wouldn't have thought twice to listen to her, but her general demeanor was much more pragmatic, so he decided to cut her a deal.
"The only way I'm taking you home is if you agree to a house call from my doctor. I'm certain he can be there within the hour."
"Fine," she said, defeated, trying to sound grateful though her tone was thoroughly annoyed. She stared out the window and crossed her aching arms, feeling like she had just been hit by a train. He had probably just saved her life, but all she could think about was what transpired at the bar.
"Fine," Loki nodded, silently wondering if he too needed a doctor.
