So sorry for the person I became.
So sorry that it took so long for me to change.
I'm ready to be sure I never become that way again
'cause who I am hates who I've been.
Who I am hates who I've been.
—Reliant K
Thor Odinson did not cry.
Weeping was for children. And the weak-hearted. And, occasionally, women. Although no women of Sif's caliber. He remembered making fun of his brother for his cries when they were children, when Hogun swung too hard in the training ring and knocked his nose sideways with a bloodied crack. He remembered the way the sand had darkened with Aesir blood, the blood of his own kin, and he'd stood there laughing at the younger prince's pain. "Man up," he had bellowed, his adolescent swagger swelling as he proved himself superior yet again.
Blubbering and wailing and sniffling was not for warriors. It was not for men.
Yet here he was. Arms wrapped around the fading, frail body of the love of his life, the one woman to capture his tumultuous heart in two thousand years, and the thunder god could not stop his tears.
Jane's thin form was trembling violently, her smooth caramel hair sapped of its natural shine, plastered against her pale forehead. The gentle flush beneath her cheeks had gone long ago, replaced with a frightening pallor and sheen of cold sweat. No matter how tightly he wound his arms around her, she would not warm. Her skin remained frigid as that of a Jötunn.
Thor buried his face in the nape of her neck, his tears hidden away in the limp curls of her hair. She no longer even smelled like his Jane. Her normal scent of sweet cinnamon had given way to something darker. Colder. A deadly mix of ash and dust, a dark rush of unearthliness that stole his breath.
He squeezed his eyes shut and drew her closer. Something warm and sharp slid down his face, dampening the pillow beneath them.
The light had long ago begun to stream through the thinly shuttered window. A cruel reminder of how little time they had left. He'd slept not a wink the whole night. Every minute he spent counting her breaths, forcing himself to breathe in tandem, repeating the hollow mantra that she was still alive.
Still alive. For now.
Pressing a kiss to the back of her head, Thor untangled himself from Jane's still form and rose from the bed. His every limb felt heavy. But he moved his feet like deadweights until he reached the door, where he stopped to look back at her.
She looked so tiny, there amongst the tangle of sheets and blankets. Her sweat-streaked hair fanned across the pillow. One hand rested beside her white cheek, fingers curled loosely. So small. So breakable, wholly at the mercy of whatever darkness roiled inside her.
His throat clenched. Turning, he closed the door behind him and moved to the living room.
What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks, and for a moment he forgot about the awful twisting inside his chest. Something lighter teased at his heart.
Nudging the remnants of a long-buried hope.
Two figures lay on the couch, which seemed somehow far larger than it had been when he'd first set foot in this tiny abode. A shock of dark hair tangled with flaming red, a small face tucked into the hollow beneath an angular jaw. One pale arm trailed around a tiny waist.
Thor felt a small smile threatening the corners of his mouth.
He almost felt loathe to wake them. But his lady's life hung in the balance. Treading softly to the edge of the couch, Thor stretched out a hesitant hand.
"Brother," he whispered.
Loki's brow furrowed, and his inhaled through his nose. Thor prodded his shoulder.
"Brother," he said again.
Blue eyes flickered open. For a few seconds, they remained clouded and unfocused, his arms unconsciously tightening around his bedfellow's sleeping form. Then the pupils constricted, and he sucked in a much sharper breath through his teeth.
Thor watched his brother stiffen, slowly unwind his limbs from Natasha's, and roll off the couch. The woman's hands instinctively closed on the air, before she rolled over with a low moan. He saw Loki's shoulders tighten at the sound.
His smile widened in spite of himself.
Loki looked up just in time to see the expression. His eyes narrowed.
"Not," he hissed. "A word."
"But, brother, this is good—"
"This is nothing."
"Would you care to explain it, then?"
Loki stalked past him into the kitchen, eyes averted.
"She grew cold in the night. I am responsible for her wellbeing. As I have no desire to be hanged by S.H.I.E.L.D., I could only see to it that she did catch her death of hypothermia."
"It never bothered you to contest with S.H.I.E.L.D. before."
Thor was met with a look so cold it plunged him for a moment back to the frozen wastes of Jotunheim. Loki did not deign to answer, instead turning to the sink to set a pot of water to boil. Thor watched his brother's back for a moment, before his tongue could form the words.
"I beg of you, brother."
Loki froze with his hand gripping the pot handle. Thor drew his lip between his teeth and held his breath. He knew he need say no more. Loki knew what he asked. Knew that those five words had never left his mouth before—could not be torn from his teeth by any pain in the Nine Realms. The elder Odinson, heir to the throne, begging. It was unheard of. It should not be done.
He would drop to his knees if he had to.
Thor could hear Loki breathing now, strained and harsh. His shoulders were so tense he was surprised he didn't drop the pot in his fist.
"You would lower yourself to such a state," he finally murmured. "For a mortal."
"I would."
"You must be truly desperate."
"I am."
Neither brother moved nor spoke for a long, stiff moment. Then, finally, Loki turned. The look upon his face was not one Thor had ever seen before.
"If I help you," he said, and Thor's heart leapt. "By the Norns, brother, I said if. You must promise to back me fully once we encounter Odin's wrath. You will take the blame for any and all transgressions our return will entail. You will listen to all that I say, and do all that I say, without question. And above all, you will swear upon Mjolnir that Natasha will receive safe passage home after this fool's errand is over."
Thor blinked at that last request, but he didn't say a word. He didn't dare speak, for fear it would shatter the moment descending so perfectly around them. For the first time in a long, long while, he felt warmth welling up within his breast. Loki scowled at him.
"Have you not heard a word I said?"
"I have."
"Then why are you smiling like an idiot?"
Thor could not help himself. He strode across the narrow space and caught up the slender god in his arms.
"You called me brother," he sang in triumph.
Loki wriggled out of his grip with a fist to the ribs. Even that jab of pain couldn't wipe the grin off Thor's face.
"You sentimental buffoon," Loki grumbled.
But Thor could see the telltale lines of a smile fighting to be hidden at the corners of his mouth.
They woke Natasha once Loki had formulated a list of all the things they needed for the spell. Teleportation spells were tricky even for the most advanced mages, and now he was down to a fraction of his magical ability whilst bound to Freigeben.
He hadn't lied to Natasha when he'd told her he didn't know the necessary materials required for the spell. He hadn't done a potion-generated spell in Odin knew how many centuries. He'd had no need to employ such low-level sorcery since he'd learned how to fold himself into another realm between the cracks of Yggdrasil.
But, if he stretched his mind back to his early days, he could come up with a jumbled concoction of various ingredients necessary for the spell. If all went well, he was fairly confident he'd be able to cast them straight to Asgard without a hitch. However, he'd calculated more than a slight possibility such a sketchy, slapdash undertaking would leave their entrails strewn across the Andromeda Galaxy.
No need to let that piece of information slip in front of Thor or Natasha.
He took a deep breath, scanned the list one more time, and stood from the table. Thor leapt to his feet from his position on the couch, while Natasha raised her head with chary alertness behind her green eyes.
"Here is the plan," Loki announced. "Agent Romanoff and I will travel to Volograd, and collect the materials we need. When we return, we will assemble the ingredients and brew a potion for each of us to drink."
"Drink?" Natasha echoed. "How will drinking a brew get us halfway across space?"
"The potion will allow us to re-knit our molecular structure and relocate our essence to another portion of the cosmos."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Sounds painful."
He flashed her a white set of teeth. "If it works right."
"I object, brother."
"Thor, you are the bearer of lightning. Surely you've been zapped with more painful energy than anything this little concoction will provoke."
"That is not why I protest. I wish to accompany you to the city. If Jane can be made well by these materials, I will turn the city upon itself to retrieve them for her."
Loki couldn't completely mask his smirk. Yes, he and his brother had forged a provisional truce. But he could still find delight in watching his bear of a brother squirm within the bonds of helplessness. Let him see what it tasted like.
"Agent Romanoff and I are experienced in the art of invisibility. S.H.I.E.L.D. is no doubt combing the globe for our trace. Discovery would greatly encumber our little venture."
"I know how to be stealthy, little brother."
"No offense, Thor," Natasha broke in. "But you'll stick out like a turd in a punchbowl."
"I…" Thor's forehead crumpled. "What?"
"Allow me to demonstrate, brother."
In three quick strides, Loki crossed the tiny cabin to where Natasha sat. She blinked in surprise when he took hold of her wrists and pulled her to her feet. Curling a hand around the bronze medallion, he closed his eyes and drew upon the reserves of his magic. Energy surged down over the both of them, tingling down his arms and legs. Natasha gasped at the sensation. When he opened his eyes, a smile spread over his face.
The two of them had transformed. Natasha's cropped red hair now fell down to her elbows, a brilliant silver-blonde. Her curls had smoothed into straight, silky waves tumbling down over her shoulders. The vivid green of her eyes had faded to a stormy gray, her face narrower, curvaceous form slimmer. She'd even grown in height. The ebony catsuit she wore had folded outward into a plain denim jacket, simple black pants and sensible rubber-soled boots.
Thor sucked in a breath. "Sigyn."
Natasha stiffened. Loki let go of the necklace and glanced at his brother.
"A realistic form veil is always based off a real figure. You should know this, Thor."
His brother's lips tipped up in a smirk. "Fandral," he chuckled.
Loki's sleek black hair had shortened to a sweep of tousled blond, twin sideburns skimming his jaw line. His piercing blue eyes dimmed to a more watery blue, his own imposing height shrinking closer to eye-level with Natasha's. Well… Sigyn's.
Why had he chosen her? It hadn't even been a conscious decision. Looking back into the depths of those familiar silver eyes… it sent a stab of pain straight through to his core. His magic had reached out to this another being and transformed her into his customary partner in crime. Little did it seem to know that the last time he and Sigyn had jumped realms together had been the time when…
When she had…
He looked away from her with a jerk, returning his eyes to Thor.
"Do you still think you could join us, brother?"
"If you turned me into Hogun," Thor persisted. "Or Volstagg."
Loki sighed. "You are unused to espionage, Thor. There will be situations where we must blend into the populace as one of their own. Not only look like them, but speak like them, walk like them, blunder like them. If we find ourselves in a quandary, you cannot just pull out your hammer and sweep the mortals away. You'll jeopardize the entire endeavor."
Thor opened his mouth to protest some more, but Natasha beat him to the punch.
"Thor, you have to think of Jane."
Loki winced. Her voice sounded identical to Sigyn's. Soft, gentle. A butterfly, compared to the spider he'd come to know.
"If the three of us take of to Volograd, she'll be left here on her own. What if something happens? What if she gets worse? You need to stay here with her. Guard her; keep her safe."
She stepped forward to put a hand on his arm. "We'll be back, soon. With everything we need. I promise you."
His brother's conflicted blue eyes snapped from hers to Loki's, and back again. Finally, he took a ragged breath.
"I am trusting you with more than my life, brother," he declared. "Do not take this lightly."
At the grave tone of his voice, something tightened at the back of Loki's throat. He dipped his head in Thor's direction, swallowing until he could get his voice smooth.
"I do not," he murmured.
He turned back toward Sigyn—Natasha, Natasha—and held out a hand to her. Wariness flashed behind her gaze. How unusual to see such guardedness behind those gray eyes, always so open and trusting. He nodded toward her necklace.
"Unless you wish to hike through the snow for sixty-seven miles, I will have to use Freigenben to teleport us to Volograd."
One silver-blonde eyebrow curved. Such a Natasha expression on Sigyn's face. It didn't fit.
"Won't that be a little conspicuous?"
"I'll orchestrate us to arrive directly outside the walls of the city. Cloud cover and fog banks are thick today, and no one will see us arrive from the snow."
She hesitated a half second longer, then moved forward and held out the medallion. Loki's fingers brushed hers when he took hold of it, and he pretended not to notice the tremor that ran through her.
No. Not while she was in Sigyn's body. Guilt washed up through his chest. He'd closed off that part of himself long ago.
"Return to me quickly, brother," Thor said.
Loki did not reply. Brilliant golden light scintillated up, down, and across their bodies, crackling with energy as heat surged through their limbs. In the blink of an eye, the cabin faded, replaced by swirling snow and howling wind. The ground expanded beneath his Loki's feet, thick woolen snow rising up past his knees.
The light faded, and Natasha let out a little shuddering breath, stumbling back from him. Loki let her go with a smirk. It was only her second time site-jumping after all. All things considered, she was doing rather well. The first few times he'd teleported he'd ended up on his knees, retching up all his guts.
"We…" she whispered raggedly. "We just teleported sixty-seven miles?"
He lifted one shoulder. "Well, last time we jumped five thousand. Feel any different?"
She placed a hand on her stomach, her already pale cheeks lightening to the color of the snow beneath. "I feel… like I'm going to be sick."
"No need to fret. It's only natural. I'm impressed you remained on your feet."
She mustered enough strength to shoot him a glare. His smirk only widened.
"We're low on time," she reminded him. "Let's get this over with."
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