Chapter Fourteen

All too soon, my three weeks of vacation were almost up. The search for Loki had died down a bit, and everyone was beginning to nervously accept the fact that he had escaped. Most of the agents saw it as a relief. As long as he wasn't causing trouble, their lives were easier.

We spent most of the time out, Loki hiding, me showing him around the large city. His favorite place was Central Park. I'd sit back, watching him act like a grown up kid as he threw bread to the ducks, smiling excitedly when they finally began to eat from his hands.

No matter how I thought about it, I could not see him as a killer. I knew it was stupid, seeing as he had taken the father I barely knew away from me, but it was true. It was too late for me to hate Loki.

Walking back from out latest trip to the park, I had an idea. A smile crept across my face. Noticing it, Loki smiled hesitantly. "What?"

"It's my last day of vacation. So I was thinking that we should celebrate this lovely day."

He looked confused.

"We're going to go get loaded. At a bar. Beer. Lots of it."

He smiled his crooked smile. "Isn't that a relatively horrible idea? If you're hung over, you'll be a sorry sight at work tomorrow."

I snorted, waving my hand. "I can handle my alcohol,"

"You're quite small, Sam. I'm not so sure about that."

"Oh yeah? Watch me."

Six hours and nearly twice as many rounds later, it was safe to say I was well past drunk. Beside me, his eyes swimming slightly, Loki downed another glass.

I turned towards him. I felt so bubbly and light. My thoughts drifted like puffy white clouds, floating in and out of my reach. "Can you tell me why you did it?" I slurred, trying to focus on him.

"Did what?"

"You know, tried to take over Earth."

I said it like it was no big deal at all. He winced, wobbling slightly. "I'm not comfortable talking about that,"

"Please?" I pouted, aware in the back of my head that I was way too drunk to be thinking logically.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand. Right where the scar was. I wondered how he had gotten that. "I was angry. Odin had told me I was...well...not his, and I acted out. I was tired of living in Thor's shadow. He was always the golden boy, always the shining son. It's fitting that his hair is golden. It's just like his parents see him. Gold and flawless. Perfect in every way.

"So I grew tired. I had an intense hatred for my brother, but most of the hatred was hatred for myself. I hated the creature that I was. I just wanted to be Asgardian. To be as good and pure as my brother. But it never worked. We got in a fight, and I left Asgard. I was broken, and I was inconsolable. I was like a wounded animal. Savage and wild, I roamed the galaxies. A man visited me in my dreams, talking to me, stroking my wounded ego. He promised me strength and pride if I were to join him."

Loki looked around, leaning in closer. "This man was named Thanos. He is a horrible, horrible man. He lured me in, and once I was there, I had no escape. He...he tortured me. Physically and emotionally until I was even more unstable than I had been in the first place. He wanted me to search for something he called the Tesseract. I knew it as the cosmic cube.

"I agreed, promising I would find him the Tesseract and lead his army into battle. It was made very clear that if I failed, if the Tesseract was kept from him, that I would be punished to no end. Probably murdered. So I came here."

I thought about the strange dream I had had all those weeks ago. Was that Loki's memory? It made sense now.

"There is one thing you have to understand, Sam. The Tesseract is powerful. Wild, even. When you touch it, you lose a little piece of yourself. It invades you, becomes you. Makes you do things that you wouldn't do otherwise. Makes you someone you're not."

"So the Tesseract...the Tesseract made you do all that?"

He nodded. "That, and the fear. Blind, cowardly fear. I knew I couldn't fail, and the Tesseract fed on that terror. It blinded me and changed me into a monster. It was like being aware in my own body but not being able to fully control it."

"So you murdering people...that was the cube?"

"Yes. I should have tried harder to control myself, I really should have. I feel so guilty for my actions, but I know that nobody will believe my story. They will think I'm simply lying to them. Loki Silver Tongue, the God of Mischief spinning another lie."

I shook my head. "I don't think you're lying."

"I never did understand you, Sam. Your decisions are so rash. For someone so logical, it's almost like you don't think with your mind half the time. I mean, you took me in. That was a huge risk, was it not?"

I shrugged. I felt heavy now, the alcohol starting to slow me down. "Yeah, but it was a risk I had to take. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

He smiled, then shook his head slowly. "I don't know sometimes with you. Come on, then. You're starting to fall over yourself."

Loki offered me his arm, half leading half towing me out of the bar. Wedging the door open, he waited for me to stumble outside. Seconds later, it began to pour.

The rain was a cold wake up call. Screeching, I tried to cover myself, but it was no use. I was soaked. Loki was too, his hair sticking to his neck. We looked at each other. I started to laugh, and it felt good.

We stood there, laughing and shaking ourselves pitifully. I felt like a water logged cat, and probably looked like one too. Loki grabbed my hand, leading us down the street. Cars passed, spraying water everywhere, but it didn't matter. We were soaked already.

By the time we made it to the back entrance of building B, we looked like we had just been thrown in the washing machine on spin cycle. I was still laughing quietly, but the sound left my lips. Loki, still holding my hand, looked down on me.

Something had changed in his eyes.

My heart fluttered against my rib cage. Without thinking, I took his other hand, lacing my fingers through his. He made a soft noise in his throat. Surprise, maybe? "Sam..." he breathed.

I barely felt myself leaning towards him. Sighing, he dropped my hands, using his one arm to circle my back. His head bent to my raised one. My heart was up in my throat as our lips met.

It wasn't like I hadn't kissed anyone before. I'd had a few boyfriends here and there, but none of them had been "the one". My longest relationship had been a summer romance with a boy named Carl back in twelfth grade. Kissing them had never made me feel like this.

I felt his other hand pressed softly against my cheek, his thumb stroking over my cheek bone. I was aware of the cold rain water running down my back, but it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to matter but what was happening right here and now.

When he finally leaned back, we were both fairly out of breath. I looked at him, and he looked at me.

"That..." he breathed, trying to lighten the tension, "was unexpected."

I couldn't agree with him more.