Chapter Eight:

Loki was patted down by the fourth separate guard since he'd arrived at the police station and was surprisingly level headed and sane considering all that had happened and the lack of illicit drugs in his system. Though cocaine was supposed to stay in one's system for about two to four days, Loki's metabolism must have worked on the faster end of the spectrum as he was already feeling as though emotion had no meaning and was itching for another fix―though he hid his jitters extremely well and so far, no one had accused him of carrying anything illegal. However, the sanity he showed outwardly was only a cover for the void he felt inside. He legitimately couldn't feel anything under his surface of practiced emotions, though he wasn't sure if this was withdrawal or something more. There were no waves of anger or sadness or guilt. There was no real distress about the situation he'd found himself in. What did he care anyway? No one missed him and no one was looking for him or worried about his well-being. A year ago he knew Thor would have been and that was what had always brought him back to the surface, what had dragged him from the grey-matter back to the unending guilt he'd always felt. Somehow, from the guilt had come the shame and then the anger and then the sadness and then… and then Thor had always wrapped his arms around him as he sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left. Thor would smile at him, tell him everything would be alright. He was there after all. Thor was there and he would take care of Loki, he promised. And always, slowly, he'd be pulled back from underneath the dull, icy, numbing waters and find, for a time, some peace.

But that didn't exist anymore. Home was just a word now. It wasn't a place or a person anymore.

Eventually, Loki was given the "all-clear" by the guard who'd patted him down and he was marched forward into a different room, a room Loki had only ever seen on crime show dramas. The guard pushed him into a chair, opposite of which sat another man, a police officer, a steel table dividing them. Loki fiddled with his fingers, picking at the bits of skin around the edges of his nails and glancing around the room with curious nervousness, staring at the one-way mirror with fake amusement. The policeman, a positively boring man with the most generic face Loki had ever seen, turned to him, clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, ready to fire off his questions without even glancing up.

"Right, so, your name?"

"Loki."

The police officer looked up with a glimmer of irritation. "Last name?"

"Oh, ah, Odinson."

"Weird name…" he heard the guy mutter, writing it down and ticking some boxes. "Age?"

"Nineteen." Loki answered directly.

"Date of birth?"

"August sixth, nineteen-ninety-five."

"Right, well," the officer looked up again, this time his expression devoid of any annoyance Loki had created. "Odinson, you're free to go. Since you weren't in any possession of drugs when we picked you up―"

Loki thanked his lucky stars that he'd thrown the bag away from him before being arrested and was doubly grateful that they'd neglected to pick up the one piece of evidence that could have them holding him here much longer, not to mention pressing charges of being in possession of an illegal substance.

"―you're allowed to leave, however, you will incur a five-hundred dollar fee for trespassing on government property which will need to be paid within fourteen days, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask: do you have a home address?"

Suddenly he was less grateful. The officer's expression had softened somewhat as he asked if Loki had a home, but Loki was well aware of the answer expected. He could always tell the man his home address, pass the fee onto Thor, but he knew he couldn't do that to his honest older brother. It didn't matter if Thor hated him now, he'd still been there for Loki when no one else had been and it felt wrong to repay him like this. Loki was soiled now―he couldn't drag Thor down with him, he couldn't continue ruining the lives of those he loved most.

"No," he lied. "I don't have…"

Loki let his sentence trail away and the officer sighed with a shake of his head as he looked back down at his clipboard, scribbling on it some more.

"Very well," he clucked, standing in the process and prompting Loki to do so as well. "You're just going to have to pick up your fine along with your items at the desk."

Loki nodded and closed his eyes for a brief moment. There was no way he would be able to find five-hundred dollars for this fine―what was he going to do? For half a second he considered going to Thanos and asking him to put him through to someone who'd be willing to lend him the money temporarily but that idea quickly passed; it would only end badly, he'd seen things like this happen before.

"Kid―! You wanna leave here or not?"

Loki's eyes broke open and he realised that the officer had now called his name for the third time as he held the door open for him, the irritation back in the man's expression.

Loki tore himself away from the metal desk and bolted at a fast walk from the room under the scrutinous eyes of several officers who watched him suspiciously. He didn't take it to heart. He was unkempt and greasy from remaining unshowered for several days and it was their job to be on the look out for criminal activity. He truly was the garbage of the world now. Unwanted, disowned, homeless and living in poverty―he'd finally found his way to the bottom of the trash can. He was the filthy slime that clung to the walls, the disgusting scent you couldn't name but hurried to get away from as past as possible on the street. Somehow he'd find his way back here again, he knew it. He could feel it as though it were tangible, as though it would certainly come to pass. He'd find himself in jail and Thor would come to stare at him with expressions of disgust, fury and sorrow. He'd ask why Loki had done it, why he'd killed their mother with his selfishness, why he'd wanted to spite their father. It wouldn't matter how hard he denied it either, Thor would not believe him. He was revolting, repulsive, monstrous and wicked! There wasn't anything on the planet that was more of an abomination than he.

Finally, finding the sign that pointed him to the desk from which he could collect his things, Loki barely registered anything at all as he followed the posted instructions and waited in line. An indistinctive numbness had spread throughout his entire being and everything around him seemed to fade from grey to black as he floated through the world as nothing more than a speck of dust. Every now and again a flit of colour would fly past his vision but his lethargic actions never allowed him to catch the speck of light that looked so pretty in the distance but was so hard to obtain. He didn't deserve it anyway. The brightness and the colour should go to those who deserved it. Those who deserved a happy ending. Not him.

Loki, upon finding himself at the front of the queue, reached a sharp old lady with a pointy nose and aggravated features. Her hair, steadily fading from brunette to grey was twisted up tightly and pinned to her scalp with several thousand pins that poked out in every direction. Her face, lined with wrinkles, particularly between her brow and around her eyes, sported a pair of red, diamond shaped glasses that only served to accentuate her angry looking face.

"Name?" She barked from behind a steal grate and plastic screen, mashing her glasses into the bridge of her nose with her long, manicured nails.

"Odinson, Loki." He answered, learning from the irritation of the officer in the interview room that they didn't go by first names here.

The old lady looked down, apparently at a monitor that Loki couldn't see and clicked away on a keyboard, her nails tapping away. Loki waited, observing quietly as she found what she was looking for before disappearing into the rows of shelving behind her. The young Odinson heard some rustling and could have sworn he heard the old bat curse, but as the police station was a hive of activity, it could have very well been someone else passing by.

When she returned, she placed on the counter a large, clear plastic bag which Loki could see held his coat and wallet inside and slid it underneath the grate where there was a small opening, just big enough to fit Loki's things through.

"Also," the woman gargled, her voice husky as though she'd smoked far too many cigarettes in her lifetime. "Here'sya fine fo' trespassin'. Pay within fourteen days or else you'll end up back 'ere but with an impending court case loomin' over ya head. If you can't pay then after the court case then you'll likely be assigned community service or somethin' like that."

Loki articulated a dull, emotionless thanks and snatched his items from the other side of the counter before moving out the way and pulling his things from the bag. He pulled on his coat, thankful that he'd had the sense to take it with him after a night in the cold cell with only a thin shirt, Seizing his wallet from the bottom of the plastic container, he quickly shoved it in his left coat pocket before tightly rolling up the plastic bag and jamming it in his back right pocket along with the egregiously expensive fine he couldn't pay.

With a shaky puff of breath, Loki flicked his hood over his head, determinedly stuck his cold hands in his coat pocket and put his head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Where was he going to go? Why bother to even leave this place, he'd only end up here again anyway… His thoughts started to spiral downwards and his hands trembled minutely.

He did have one option. The longer he thought about it, the more sense it made. The conflicting pieces of the puzzle that constructed his poorly structured life seemed to fall away as he began to realise that he didn't have to finish the puzzle. If a puzzle was ugly or boring or hard it was often abandoned. In fact, Loki recalled a few occasions as a child when Thor had grown so frustrated with something like building blocks or magic cubes or puzzles that he'd thrown them to the ground and they'd smashed into millions of tiny little pieces. After that, they were properly broken―no use to anyone. Frigga had always scolded her oldest son and Loki had watched with smarting tears. He'd liked putting those things together, why did Thor always want to break them? Now Loki couldn't play with them either! Yet, in the end, no matter how badly Loki had wanted to fix the toys that Thor had smashed, Frigga or Odin had always thrown them out. After all, what use was something when it was broken?

The way things stood made him reflect quietly on his own pieces. He was a puzzle that Odin had picked up from a yard sale. He'd not come in a box so Odin did not know how many pieces he had, yet, he was cheap―free even. So, Odin took his new distraction home and started putting him together. However, eventually Odin realised that there were more pieces of the puzzle than he cared to arrange―not to mention that there were sections of the puzzle that all looked the same to someone who wasn't very good at looking for the finesse details―and now, this was what Loki had been left as. An unfinished puzzle who probably had a few pieces missing. What did anyone care if the puzzled was tossed away? Odin could find a newer, better puzzle if he so desired and Thor was already perfect and whole so what did anyone need Loki for? …Of course, there was always that option. He could close his eyes to all mortal things. Allow himself departure from the stage and take final rest from pain and sorrows. Relinquish life.

Distracted by his plummeting thoughts, Loki failed to notice the man―also distracted by a number of paper documents in his hands―heading straight for him.

"Oh, shit!" the man cursed, the documents flying in every direction as the two collided.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" Loki cried apologetically, falling to his knees and scrambling to pick up the papers for the righteous looking man. "It was an accident, I'm so very sorry!"

Loki noted that the man appeared to be some sort of officer working in the force and he was tall with a trimmed beard and searching, soulful eyes.

"It's alright kid, stop apologising." The older man replied, also getting onto his knees and gathering up the documents.

"It's not!" Loki nearly shouted with a shake of his head, quite close to tears in fact as he tried to sort the papers as best he could. He looked up at the man with sincerity in his eyes. If he was destined for termination, surely he could offer up as much of his spirit as he could before he passed on. "Is there any way I can make up for this foul blunder and inconvenience I've caused you Mr. …?"

"Hallinskithi, detective Hallinskithi, though most people just call me Heimdall." The detective replied with a courteous nod. "But seriously kid, it's fine, really. You don't owe me anything, alright?"

Loki stared at him for a moment before giving in. "Alright, if you say so."

"I do." Heimdall flashed a toothy smile, giving the kid a brief glance all over. "Go home kid. Take a shower. From the looks of you I'd say you've been in holding for a good while, am I right?"

Loki bobbed his head in affirmation and gave an assertive hum, handing the documents over to Heimdall.

"You'll feel better once you've bathed." Heimdall continued as the two of them stood. "Trust me."

The detective clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a confident nod. "Take care, you hear? I hope I don't see you here again." Heimdall strode off, his mind fighting through an obnoxious cloud of fog as he tried to remember why that young kid had given him such a familiar feeling. By god, that young man had looked awfully familiar. Heimdall could feel a knot tightening in his stomach as an unusual wave of nervous anxiety overtook him. Why did he think he should know that boy?

However, the detective continued to walk onwards, heading towards his desk where he would finally be able to review his files for the day and he completely missed the final words Loki uttered in his direction.

"Don't worry, you won't see me here again."

And with that, his mind was made up. He wasn't wanted anymore. He wasn't needed at all. Loki marched towards the exit, pushing open the doors with a final resolve. Stepping into the dull sunlight, the youngest, homeless Odinson strode down the street with his final purpose in mind. If there was no reason for his existence, why was he still here?

Life just wasn't worth it anymore.


A/N:
UUUUGGGH. Sorry. Also if anyone's wondering why August 6th is Loki's birthday it's because August 6th was the first date he appeared in the marvel comics back in 1949 (according to Wikipedia anyway). As an aside, if anyone wants to write me a better summary, feel free.

Much Love,
Soulhearts