I finally worked this chapter out! Thank you one and all who have read, reviewed, alerted and/or favourited this story so far, I promise for weekly updates from now on. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, things might seem like they are going a tad slow but it will pick up I promise but I am never one for rushing things.
Don't forget to let me know what you all think! Next update will be Tear the World Down and a new Fandral story I'm working on and then this one again all within the week- thank you wisdom teeth surgery you are a painful blessing in disguise.
Any and all mistakes left in this are mine and I apologize for what ones will be in here. I'm half dead at the moment but wanted to get this up for you all. I shall re-re-edit this chapter more thoroughly tomorrow.
I am looking for anyone who is willing to be a beta for me, to help me with all chapters previously written and those to come, as I know I am not entirely up to scratch: brings of lots of spoilers and sneak peeks with me to the taker.
Don't forget to hit that nice little button that comes after the chapter, I love knowing what you all think.
CHAPTER THREE
Rachel felt as though she were staring into the very depths of sorrow itself. When gazing into them, one could see a thousand memories racing through his mind at once and clearly they were painful by the hurt resonating in his eyes.
She was vaguely aware of his hand clenching tighter around hers.
He repeated her name; voice hoarse.
Tearing her eyes away from his, Rachel managed to find her voice, albeit it being shaky. "H- How do you- you feel?" she inquired.
The look on his face showed his wariness of her but she could sense that he also seemed to hold some slight form of trust towards her.
"Fine," he croaked, pushing himself up into a sitting position and looking down upon his body. "Where are my clothes?"
Rachel blushed somewhat at remembering how she had found him naked. "You uh, weren't- were not wearing any clothes when my friend and I found you," she remarked cautiously.
She noticed him look at her from the corner of his eyes and leaned back slightly, turning to face the door as it opened suddenly and a nurse rushed in followed closely by the doctor.
The doctor pulled her aside in order to examine the man within the bed, who seemed to recoil from him like some wounded animal that was cornered. Her hand was wrenched from his at the sudden action and she stepped back to allow them to do their job.
The scowl upon the freshly awakened man's face was almost laughable. He looked as though he wished to blast them into tiny particles.
The nurse and doctor spoke to him, attempting to calm him however it seemed to be in vain as when the doctor attempted to touch his wrist, he began to struggle.
"Get away from me before I show you what I am truly capable of," he snarled when the doctor pushed him down by the shoulder to the bed.
Rachel frowned, his accent was almost British and at the same time it was laced by another deeper one.
"Please sir, you need to relax for us," the nurse instructed though it was evidently futile to their cause for he merely growled at her.
As the doctor touched his arm, the man grabbed him by the throat and Rachel winced, remembering how the same thing had happened to her only hours prior, though she gathered his grip would have been considerably weaker than it was now as she heard the doctor groan and gasp.
The nurse cried out in dismay, still trying to restrain the man to the bed.
Rachel realised the confusion and terror upon the stranger's face and stepped forward, feeling bad for him in his obviously foreign surroundings and crowded by strangers. She had already gathered there was something quite out of place about him, what that was – she did not yet know but Rachel would not stand there and not try and remedy the situation currently taking place.
"They just want to make sure you are alright," she said gently and watched as he glanced at her, eyes narrowed in a clear warning.
"I wish them to leave me be, I am fine as they can clearly see," he retorted, his eyes shifting to the nurse who took a sudden step back from the bed and released his arm which she had been trying to restrain.
"Well if you let go of his throat, I am certain he would be more than happy to agree with you on that matter," Rachel told him, giving him the smallest of smiles as she reached out to take hold of his hand around the doctor's throat.
She had no idea whether he would suddenly attack her now she had injected herself into the situation but Rachel decided that if he had not hurt her only moments ago then she gathered that she had some strange advantage presently, or at least, more so than the doctor did.
As she made to pull his fingers from round the poor doctor's throat his grip tightened and he growled at her.
Glaring in return, Rachel forcibly pried his fingers back and smiled a little at the doctor as he fell to the floor, gasping for breath. The nurse rushed round to check on him.
"I'm fine," he murmured, eyes on the man in the bed as he rubbed his throat. "I think it is quite evident you are ready for release. Nurse, get the paperwork that he'll need to fill out."
Once on his feet, both he and the nurse left hurriedly.
Rachel felt the fingers she had just pulled from round the doctor's throat grip her wrist tightly. Her heart began to race wildly.
It happened all too fast for her to react. He tugged her toward the bed and she wound up on the stranger's lap; his fingers curled round her jaw.
Wide blue eyes stared into his; full of fear and surprise. He glared at her as he watched her delicate fingers move to grip his wrist, attempting to free herself.
"Who are you?" he demanded, wanting to know who this woman was and why she felt the need to intervene on matters that did not include her.
She stilled and looked directly at him. "I'm Rachel, I- I helped you," she choked out.
Loki frowned before he pulled her from across his lap and let her go, moving to stand up from the bed. He swayed slightly and found arms grabbing hold of him; steadying his exhausted limbs.
Feeling a chill run up his back, Loki glanced down. What in the name of Vanaheim was he wearing? Pulling at the strange piece of clothing, he glanced round at his back and found it was not completely covering him and that it was the only item of clothing on his bruised body. He had simply believed that the woman, Rachel, had meant that his armour had been gone; not every single shred of his clothing.
He glanced at the woman standing before him with frown. "What is this thing?" he asked, sneering at the item he was pulling at.
"A hospital gown," she replied as she let him go and took a step back. "They couldn't leave you without any clothes on. The nurses might not have left your side otherwise."
He nodded albeit a little confused as to why he had been stripped bare of his clothes and weapons when in the vortex of the destroyed bi-frost.
"And where am I presently, Rachel?" he pressed, wondering just where he had ended up on Midgard and why he was still alive.
There was only one other question that he wished answered; was he a god still?
She seemed to frown at the floor for a moment before her gaze rose to meet his. "Boston, Massachusetts," she answered.
What an unusual name for a dwelling he thought to himself before glancing at the mortal woman before him.
This mortal had found him. He remembered only fragments of her and the feel of fingers brushing across his skin in a tender gesture. He shook the feelings and recollections aside.
"Thank you for your aid," he said, inclining his head slightly. "I would like to know if there were any clothes I might change into. I regret that this current article of clothing is not particularly practical."
She suddenly laughed and he frowned deeply; not understanding what was so amusing to her.
Rachel could not help it as she began laughing. His way of speech was so abnormal that it was almost comical to listen to him.
Where on earth had he been raised?
He sounded as though he had been in a time warp of the eighteenth century. While the way of speech was quite nice in comparison to most of the vernacular used in this day and age, it sounded so odd to hear a normal person speaking in such a way.
"What may I ask is so amusing?"
She bit her lip, trying to stifle her laughter. Finally regaining her composure she glanced up into his face and found herself being caught yet again by his eyes. Looking into them this time, she noted that his whole facial expression seemed as though he was thinking of a million things within mere seconds.
It was extraordinary and quite intriguing to her how one man could be seemingly thinking so much at once.
"I'm sorry, it's just the way you talk is very strange," she said, apologizing in earnest, "You speak as though you might belong in a Jane Austen novel."
She saw him frown. Had she said something too offensive or harsh?
"Jane Austen?"
Her eyes widened slightly. This man looked as though he was highly educated, even standing before her in an oversized hospital gown and completely dishevelled. And yet, he did not know who Jane Austen was? He must have hit his head fairly hard.
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
Rachel glanced round and noted the small cabinet on the far side of the room. Quirking an eyebrow, she held a finger up. "Give me a second."
He opened his mouth as though to speak but she quickly crawled over the spare bed that was in the room and opened the cabinet. Smiling in triumph at not having to deal with the nurse for a little longer, Rachel pulled out the sets of clothes she found in there. Of course, they were the most basic of clothes; track pants and a matching jacket but they would do him better than that gown.
"What's your colour?" she inquired, turning to face the man who was looking at her in utter bewilderment. "Grey, black or dark green?"
He just stood there and she huffed. "Green it is. It'll match your eyes," she commented, stuffing the other two sets back into the cabinet.
Instead of crawling over the bed this time, she walked round it. "I'm afraid I can't do anything in way of underwear and shoes for you, but these are most definitely better than that flimsy thing."
Rachel was trying to keep her nerves in tack. She was standing in front of an extremely handsome stranger who clearly had little recollection presently and her heart went out to him as her eyes kept moving to soak in what she could of him. He looked like he needed a friend more than anything and a friend was what she was going to be until she had to leave and he was discharged.
She held the jacket and pants out to him and saw him move to take them only to recoil each time. Rachel waved them a little in her hands, smiling warmly at him. Wounded animal he most definitely was. "You can take 'em..." she trailed off suddenly.
Oh dear she thought. I don't even know his name. Does he know his name?
"Sorry, but in all the confusion over the last few hours, I forget to ask; what's your name?"
She noticed his eyes dart from the clothes in her hands to her face and a guarded look suddenly flashed through his eyes.
Silence passed between them before he spoke: "My name is Loki."
There was a pregnant pause. Rachel cocked one fine eyebrow at him. "Your name is Loki?" He nodded. Something about the look on his weary face almost made Rachel want to believe him but the idea of him being named after a god of lies and mischief just seemed too farfetched.
"And you are Rachel, the woman who helped me," he remarked after a few minutes of more lingering silence.
She blushed slightly. The way he said her name so smoothly as though his tongue was laced with honey made her heart beat race a little quicker for no reason. "Yes, I'm Rachel and the woman who helped you."
He inclined his head to the side for a mere second and before Rachel realized what he was planning, he had slipped the hospital gown from his body. She acted on mere impulse and shoved the clothes towards him; eyes wide and cheeks aflame. Yes, she had seen him naked when she had found him but that was different. Now he was fully awake and... and...
My word he is fine she thought as her eyes slipped over a lean but muscular torso and sinewy arms.
She inwardly slapped herself at the fact she was still standing there staring at him as he held the clothes over his crotch.
"I'll uh- I'll just- turn round so- so you can get dressed," she stuttered and turned about so she was facing the wall. Biting her lip and rolling her eyes skywards, Rachel listened to the sound of rustling clothes. No longer facing him and her mind still on the sight of his physique, Rachel decided she needed to distract herself and fast.
"Loki, I mean no offense by my next question but were your parents stoned when they named you?" she inquired.
Loki paused amidst pulling the mortal clothing on and frowned at the woman's back. This Rachel was quite strange.
He recalled the small bits of what he could remember of her finding him and noted that she had not seemed to mind him without any clothes on then.
Maybe mortals were more old-fashioned than he had originally thought?
He remembered Hoenir speaking of how mortal women no longer waited until marriage before climbing into bed with a man.
And yet, this Rachel woman seemed to be quite embarrassed by his apparent lack of clothing. Maybe, she was not one of the mortal women who did such things.
He tightened the laces of the pants she had given him in order to keep them from sliding off his hips, frowning at the things and missing his own clothes.
Loki froze as she asked her question and then scowled. Rather than delve on his anger now over the idea of parents; he did what he knew how to do best. He lied. "I am not sure, Rachel. Perhaps they just enjoyed the tales of myth and legend greatly."
Mortals were so easy when it came to sating their curiosity he noted as she nodded and murmured an okay.
With the question answered and silence blanketing them, Loki studied his surroundings with keen interest.
The room they were in was quite large and cold, though nowhere near as cold as he himself; the door was twelve paces behind him; two beds were backed up against the left wall, small cabinets seemed to be the preferred way of storing things within here as there were quite a few scattered about and on the right side of the room there was a closed door. It was very bare for a mortal abode.
His eyes then moved towards the woman with her back to him. Loki's curiosity peaked as to why she had helped him and who she was.
No creature; Aesir, Jotunn, animal or man ever did anything without expecting something in return, he knew this and he knew it well.
So what did this woman want in payment for helping him?
Rachel bounced slightly on the spot, fixating her gaze on the wall before her, huffing slightly in impatience. How long did it take him to get dressed?
Had he lost motor function on the way that doing such a simple task was too much for him? She bit her tongue at how mean she was being towards the man in her mind.
The door opened suddenly and Rachel realized it was safe to turn around when the nurse did not have a slight panic attack at a naked man as she herself had done. Why he had not told her she could was beyond her, she wasn't that bad to look at- was she?
So naked he looked fine but in dark green- She inwardly let out a breath of pent-up frustration trying her best not to act awkward.
How was it legal for a man to look so gorgeous in only a pair of hospital track pants and a jacket? If only she looked half as good as he did in such simple clothing she might actually have a date once in a while.
"Alright, I just need you to fill out this paperwork and we'll have to work out a way of contacting someone so they can pay for the bill," the nurse told Loki who Rachel noted frowned deeply, as though what she was saying made no sense to him.
"Very well," he said, taking the paper work from the nurse who told him to hand it over to the front desk once he had filled it all out.
Loki glanced down at the "paperwork" as he placed it upon the bed. What strange things these mortals were. So many simple things were so complex. This gave him the opportune moment however to test his powers out on the "nurse" he would be speaking to next. If he had his powers, he would be able to avoid details by tricking her into believing everything was sorted out.
Yes, she would be a perfect subject to test his abilities out-
"Well-"
His thoughts were interrupted by the soft voice and he turned his attention to the dark-haired woman near him. Why wait to test his abilities when the perfect subject stood barely four foot from him?
Loki also saw this as a way of finding out what she wanted from him. If he could see into her mind, then he would know everything without prying and having her question him in return. Was she a Valkyrie in disguise? He almost laughed out loud at the idea of such a timid creature being kin to the likes of Brunhilde.
No. A Valkyrie, she most certainly was not.
"Yes?" he inquired after a few moments of silence.
"I- I guess you're alright on your own from here," she remarked and he nodded.
"Yes, thank you Rachel for your help," he said in earnest, holding his hand out to the woman; to see within the mind of a mortal, one needed to have physical contact with them much to his distaste.
He watched as her hand slowly slipped into his. She made to shake his hand however he raised it to his lips and pressed them to the back of it, smiling at the blush that adorned the woman's cheeks. She was quite different to the mortal women in the stories he had heard of.
Focusing on using his powers to read her mind, he inwardly cheered in triumph as he picked up on weak thoughts and memories and other small things.
However, his triumph was short-lived when his head suddenly began throbbing and sharp pains attacked his mind. Groaning as he clutched at his temples, Loki heard the woman move closer and took a step backwards, not wishing for the contact of the mortal for fear the pain would only intensify.
"I'm fine," he growled.