So, this is a sort of short and wimpy chapter. Sorry. :) But the last chapter is much longer, so it evens out! This is just where there was a good breaking point in the narrative. Thanks for the continued reviews! :)
Being bedridden in the healing chambers is not my ideal form of leisure. I begin to measure the passing of time by the rise and fall of my pain levels, and by the entrances of Eir to tend to me and provide me with medicine. The tonics, awful though they taste, bring the pain in my leg from a blazing fury that leaves me cross-eyed down to a dull throbbing, and it is during those times of relative relief that I find the solace of rest.
After I wake from the healing sleep, it is a day and a half before I find I have the strength and presence of mind to sustain a conversation. All of the members of the Warriors Three come to visit me at once. It is the first time I have seen Fandral or Hogun since the battle, and I must admit that the looks on their faces upon seeing me awake and recovering warm my heart. I hate that they are seeing me like this, weak and so very vulnerable, but I would never deny them, not after what we have been through. I would especially not deny Fandral, for I can still remember the pain in his eyes as he held the tourniquet to my wound. Fortunately, he does not shed tears as Volstagg did - such is not his way. He just smiles warmly and acts as though he will clap me on the shoulder, but stays his hand at the final moment and slowly lays it on my arm and presses it gently. I roll my eyes at him affectionately, not wanting to let on the fact that I am actually feeling in no condition for shoulder-clapping.
I ask about what has happened in our realm whilst I have been confined to the healing chambers, and Fandral and Hogun speak of their audience with Odin. The Allfather has decided that the matter of the outlaws must be dealt with, but not without an army and much strategizing. He wants to minimize the risk to our people. I silently agree. I do not wish my pain or my near-death experience upon any other Asgardian.
Although I love my friends dearly, their enthusiasm at my pending recovery wearies me just a touch, so I am grateful when Thor walks into my chamber and reminds the warriors gently that they have work to do to prepare for the next encounter with the outlaws. They take their leave reluctantly - Hogun nods and wishes me well, Fandral smiles, and Volstagg pats my arm. And then they are gone, and it is just me and Thor.
"They are very pleased that you pulled through," Thor muses, glancing in the direction the others have vanished.
"It would be difficult to find better friends," I murmur. It is not something I would normally say, but after recent events I feel the statement is warranted. But the Warriors Three are not the only people I am referring to, and Thor obviously catches my meaning, for he turns back to me and smiles just a little.
"How are you, Sif?" he asks, his low voice soft.
"Better," I answer honestly, although I do not know that I can say the same for him. There are dark circles beneath his blue eyes, which are twin harbors for worry, and it suddenly occurs to me just how much pressure he must be under. He is consumed with his responsibilities as the commander of our military force, while simultaneously worrying about me, and to a higher degree, Loki. Thor has been so devoted to his brother's recovery since their return from Midgard, and I know that his attentions have been effective, for I have already heard his story from Volstagg. But while I could do little more than listen then, I have gained strength in the period of a day, and when my suspicions of the location of Thor's mind are confirmed by the way his gaze flicks almost unconsciously to the wall behind which his brother lays, I inquire of him,
"How fares Loki?"
"He is doing better," says Thor, quietly and reflectively. "He is weak and unwell, but he is recovering. He is resting now; our mother is with him."
It is almost as though he feels the need to reassure himself that coming to me was all right. I know he would rather be at his brother's side than at mine - friends though Thor and I have always been, I know where the utmost of his loyalties lie, especially now that he feels the need to make up for inadequacies he never even knew he exhibited. For a moment, I feel a flash of my old anger at Loki for judging Thor's attentions to not be enough. Surely someone so intelligent as Loki could see how much Thor loves him! But then I remember all the times during our childhood when we had run off to the training rings in our spare time and left Loki alone. It was something I had never allowed myself to think about until he fell. I do not like it, so I change the subject.
"When will the attack on the outlaws be?"
"Soon," he replies, and there is an unspoken coda of "too soon". "Within a week, maybe sooner. I am to lead the army, with the Warriors Three at my side. We know what to expect now." He shook his head suddenly, frustration and anger crossing his face. "We will not underestimate them this time. I never should have to begin with. This," he gestures to my leg and in the general direction of Loki, "is my fault."
"Thor." I make my tone a warning, and he breaks off, though shame is still etched upon his countenance.
"You could not have known," I continue. "There was no reason for you to expect what happened. Even the best of leaders is not infallible."
"You almost died," he pointed out. "So did Loki. If you, if either of you had, it would have been because of my carelessness."
"But we didn't," I point out. I really do not wish to continue this conversation with him - I have been awake too long, and I am growing more exhausted by the minute, and my leg throbs. I wish to comfort and reassure my friend, but I am afraid that my strength is failing rapidly. I must have allowed my pain to show on my face, for Thor finally seems to become aware of my discomfort.
"You are unwell," he notes, blue eyes alight with concern. "Should I send for Eir?"
"I am fine," I reassure him, although he does not look convinced. "There are only so many tonics she can give me at one time anyway," I add practically, which seems to mollify him. He sighs and nods. To tell the truth, I wish it were time for Eir to come - my leg aches all over, as it always seems to for some time before the healer's return with more medicine. I want nothing more than to close my eyes in silence whilst I wait for Eir, but I do not wish for Thor to know just how poorly I feel. He has enough on his mind at the moment.
"You should return to Loki," I prompt. "I think your presence would be of some good to him." It is the truth, as I have observed it. Ever since the princes returned to Asgard, Thor's refusal to believe his brother a hopeless cause has been a constant entity, even when it was clear that Loki himself did not agree. I cannot say that I know the details of their slow reconciliation, but I feel it safe to form a conjecture that without Thor's unwavering faith and attention, Loki would have remained unrecognizable from the Loki I used to know - the Loki whom I sometimes wonder only Thor and I ever saw.
The corner of Thor's mouth twitches upward a little at my comment. "And my presence is of no good to you?" He is attempting to make a jest, I know, but the words come out sounding a little sad.
His hand is resting on the bed within my reach, so I pat it a couple of times.
"You know what I mean."
He tries to chuckle, but it comes out as a sigh. "Yes. I do." He places his hand over mine and squeezes lightly, and then rises. He has nearly reached the door when I call after him, nearly without planning my words first.
"Thor..."
He turns, gazing at me inquisitively. I continue.
"Tell Loki...tell him that I hope he has a swift recovery."
Thor studies me for a moment before he responds, and I think he catches the dual meaning in my words.
"I will," he says with a soft smile. "I thank you. And I hope you have the same."
Once he is gone and I am alone, I relax against my pillows and shut my eyes, trying my best to ignore the pain in my leg. A swift recovery. If I had been able to think straight, a thank you for saving my life and the near expense of your own might have been a nice addition to that. But then again, I have always lived my life in a specific attempt to embody the antithesis of the damsel in distress. The thought of having to thank someone - someone of the male sex, to make matters worse - for saving my life horrifies me.
But then that awful thought of our childhood and how lonely Loki always seemed arises in my mind again, and as terrible as it makes me feel, I force myself to dwell upon it. And as I do so, I realize that maybe sometimes, what I want is not always the hub of every situation.
