You've Got Sucker's Luck
Chapter 19
Hopefully a 7k+ word chapter makes up for the length of time between updates.
TW for brief mention of rape.
Viewing Lounge 38 – SHIELD's grudging acknowledgement of the concept of "downtime" – was bright, welcoming, and hilariously incongruent with the Helicarrier's otherwise utilitarian architecture.
Sunshine poured through panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, negating the need for artificial lighting and affording a stunning view of the world outside, which currently was the airspace over Upper Michigan. Tables and comfortable chairs were scattered throughout the expansive space, complementing a small sectional couch that was stationed by the largest bank of windows.
SHIELD's execution of the concept of "downtime," of course, meant the place had been on permanent hiatus from the outset. Most of the obnoxiously-cheerful décor remained shrink-wrapped in plastic, the exception being the couch, which was where Loki found Brynn after she had left Banner's laboratory.
"If you tell me I should be resting, I swear I will punch you in the fucking face," he heard her say as he stepped inside.
"I don't doubt it," Loki kept his voice neutral, but the vehemence in her tone took him aback, "but doing so may have unfortunate consequences for your hand."
"I'll risk it," she muttered.
She was sitting slumped facing away from him, and so did not see the hurt that came into Loki's eyes when she said this.
"Is it truly so abhorrent to you that I care about your well-being?" he asked quietly.
His question was met with stony silence, until a soft, "No," reached his ears.
Brow furrowed with worry, Loki watched her for a bit before finally walking over to join her. Stark's tablet rested on the arm of the couch and came into view as he drew nearer, but it was turned off, much to his relief.
"How are you always able to find me?" Brynn asked, not looking at him as he sank down next to her. She sat huddled in the corner of the sectional, arms half-crossed and a hand at her mouth.
Loki gestured to her bracelet, which she had left sitting out on top of the tablet.
Brynn paused in gnawing the side of her thumb raw and gave him a sidelong glance. "That's kind of stalker-y."
His mouth opened in protest and then closed, seeing her point.
"I – my apologies, that was not my intent." Chastened, he held out his hand. "May I?"
She wordlessly picked up the bracelet and passed it over to him.
His token was starting to show signs of wear, Loki observed, even in just a few short weeks. The magic imbued within it was never intended to extend to the material itself, and the deep green leather had faded and lost its sheen from near-constant rubbing against the inside of Brynn's pockets.
Dissatisfied with the results of his hasty craftsmanship, he placed it in his open palm and went to work.
The battered bracelet started shimmering with ripples of soft golden light. Under Loki's direction, the braided leather rewove itself to form a far more intricate plait before doubling over to create a second circlet that was broader in width than the first. Both plaits underwent subtle reconditioning as they finished tying themselves off, softening to the texture of supple rawhide, and restoring its rich green hue.
Palm still upturned, Loki's fingers closed into a tight fist. The golden shimmers of his magic intensified in brightness, their light reflecting in Brynn's eyes as she watched, before gradually fading away as his hand eased open once more.
A double-band bracelet accented with gold and silver now rested in his palm. The original knot that invoked the charm had separated into two trifold knots; tiny gold ovals dangled from each, one stamped with the Norse character for the letter S, the other bearing Loki's own sigil, the two-headed snake. Secured in the center of the broader circlet was a silver, single outstretched wing of a bird. A smaller matching clasp joined the ends of both circlets together, allowing the bracelet to be worn without invoking the spell.
"Fasten it around the rune if you prefer to have privacy," Loki explained, offering it back to her, "and use the sigil if you wish for me to be able to locate you."
Brynn's curiosity overrode her determination to be surly, and after a moment's hesitation, she reached out and took the bracelet in hand. Loki caught a trace of a fleeting smile as he watched her examine it, then smiled himself when he saw her take notice of the detailing on the gold accents.
"Thank you," she murmured, touching the sigil with a careful fingertip.
Pleased, he helped Brynn clasp the bracelet around her wrist before moving to settle next to her against the under-stuffed sofa pillows. Trying to find a comfortable spot quickly proved to be no easy task, as the garishly-hued piece of furniture was as much lacking in taste as it was comfort.
He was readying to conjure up a duplicate of his favorite chaise lounge from home when the sight of Lake Superior came into view through the window, distracting him from the seating.
The enormous body of water was mesmerizing, its long stretches of vibrant green trees interspersed with swaths of land. And although the view could not compare to the glorious vistas of the Realm Eternal, as he gazed out at the upper peninsula, Loki could recall why the prospect of ruling Midgard had once held so much appeal. He had scorned its occupants, but this particular branch of Yggdrasil held its own unique beauty. It still beckoned to him, even after all that had transpired.
Motion in his periphery drew his focus away from the window, and he took a quick glance over to Brynn. She was lost in thought, one leg folded up against her chest, her other leg bent at the knee and bouncing lightly against the couch, fingers drumming atop her thigh.
Sensing his eyes on her, Brynn self-consciously drew both legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. Within moments, she was already shifting her weight from one side to the other. It was obvious that she was doing her best to sit quietly, but her restlessness only worsened the longer she struggled to remain still.
When she grew so fidgety that he could feel the sofa cushions beginning to vibrate, Loki reached out and put his arm around her shoulders. Brynn leaned into him without hesitation, and he brought her closer and kissed the top of her head.
"Don't fight it," he told her, speaking into her hair.
Several minutes passed as Loki patiently waited for Brynn's squirming to ease. He knew by now that her nervous energy would never completely subside, but he was familiar with her baseline level of "twitchy" and could read the signs of when she was truly agitated versus the times when she was calm.
Eventually she stilled and took a deep breath. "I thought…"
"Thought what?" he asked her gently.
Brynn slumped further into his side with a heavy sigh. "I thought you would be the answer to everything."
She had never sounded so defeated.
"That you'd help me remember the accident," she continued, "that SHIELD would get what they need, and then I would finally be able to start over. Use the life insurance money to start a therapeutic riding program upstate. Go back to Nevada." She trailed off, as if momentarily envisioning this possible future, and then shook her head, continuing, "I don't know, just do something new. Go somewhere else. But," her voice grew bitter, "now I'm starting to think I won't ever stop living this nightmare."
"I could still be the answer to everything," Loki offered.
Brynn lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"Let's leave," he told her.
"Leave?" she repeated, puzzled.
Loki moved to grasp her by the shoulders and turned her to face him, warming to the idea the more he considered it.
"Yes," he nodded. "Right now. I'll take you, anywhere you wish."
"But I can't leave," Brynn protested. She seemed genuinely flabbergasted that he could make such a suggestion. "I told them I'd help."
"What do you owe SHIELD?" Loki demanded. "Why do they deserve such loyalty for helping you heal, for simply doing what was right?"
"SHIELD doesn't deserve a thing," she admitted, conceding his point. "Not really. But Tony does."
Loki's jaw tightened at this mention of Stark, but Brynn misinterpreted his change in expression as a sign of confusion and tried to clarify what she meant.
"I would still be inpatient if he hadn't gone looking for me when Sammy and I didn't come back to work," she explained. "And, he said if we could figure out what the accident did to my brain, that it would help humanity. Who wouldn't want to have a chance to do that?"
She was all earnestness, looking at him with such blind faith in her eyes that Loki realized it had never even entered her mind that he could possibly think otherwise.
How could she be so naïve? How could anyone be this naïve?
"Have you no grasp of what they're asking of you," he exclaimed, "of what you would be putting yourself through?" Voice growing strained, he added, "Of what will be left of you afterwards?" He still held her by the shoulders, and he gave her a slight shake, as if this might make her see sense. "Brynn, stop and think," he implored. "You would be reliving the worst moments of your life –"
"I have thought about it," she cried. She pulled away from him and his hands dropped helplessly back down to his lap. "I've already been through hell, Loki! What's reliving it all one more time going to matter if it means Sammy and the baby didn't die for nothing?"
He flinched.
"I can accept having to put myself back together again if it means their dying wasn't a complete waste," Brynn insisted, "that something good can come out of what happened that might help other people. Loki, don't you get it?"
She was desperate to try and make him understand, but he could not, would not, accept her rationale.
"My whole job was helping people," Brynn said to him plaintively, "and I can't do my job anymore, but this is one thing I can do, and that's why I have to stay."
Loki's breath was coming hard and fast, mouth partially hung open as he stared at her and tried to process her words. No one was this self-sacrificing, no one –
Abruptly, his gaze trailed away from her. A blurred memory flickered into the purview of his mind's eye, brightening until the reverie took discernible form and shape.
Visible to only Loki, the outskirts of a small desert town came into sight behind Brynn's shoulder. The township's buildings were razed, its citizens fleeing after a sudden attack, but amidst the smoking rubble stood the figure of one lone man. As his companions looked on in horror, he fearlessly placed himself into the oncoming path of the source of destruction – a monstrous, metal humanoid that was readying to destroy him with a concussive blast of flame.
Brother, however I have wronged you, whatever I have done that has led you to do this, I am truly sorry. But these people are innocent; taking their lives will gain you nothing. So take mine, and end this.
The image faded away, and the taste in Loki's mouth grew bitter.
What exquisite cruelty this was. The god of lies, of chaos, of treachery, had lost his heart to a woman so unequivocally good that he was likely tainting her by his mere presence. A hundred lifetimes of doing penance for Odin could never make him deserving of one such as her.
…But selfish bastard that he was, until the moment she told him otherwise, he would never leave her side.
"Loki, please," Brynn begged, grabbing his hands and speaking in a rush, "please help me remember. I've been avoiding it, I know I have, but you can actually see into my head, and all Dr. Ives can do is make me talk about it, and there's been nothing to talk about for months because I can't remember it. All I remember Sammy and me getting into the car and then there's nothing."
"All right," he whispered. He sounded distant, mind still half-ensnared by the memory of Puente Antigo.
Brynn's face grew eager. "Can we do it now?"
Loki's eyes hardened and his focus came fully back to the present. "No," he said flatly.
She promptly launched into an argument, but he interrupted her, saying, "I realize you want to do all of this as soon as possible, but you have had two seizures in the last twenty-four hours. Manipulating your mind is likely ill-advised."
"But we can try again soon?" she pressed.
Loki was slow to reply. Face forlorn, he lifted his hand and sadly traced his thumb from the center of Brynn's lips and down her chin, wondering if his mouth would ever touch hers. What she was asking of him risked setting her off on a path that he knew he could not follow. But likewise, he could not deny her request.
Unable to meet Brynn's hopeful gaze, Loki let his hand fall and gave a faint nod. "Yes."
He felt a piece of his heart shear off when she rose onto her knees to throw her arms around his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered gratefully, pressing a kiss against his cheek.
The close contact left Loki wanting more, and he was suddenly taken by the overwhelming need to keep her as close as possible.
Giving Brynn no chance to object, he boldly scooped her legs out from under her to bring her sideways onto his lap. Her unease was evident by her rigid posture, but she did not protest about his liberties. Taking that as tacit permission, Loki proceeded to drape her arm over his shoulders, put his arms around her waist, and leaned his head down to rest upon her chest.
After a moment's hesitation – during which he held himself braced for rejection – Brynn brought her hand up and began to play with his hair. Loki closed his eyes with a sigh, enjoying the unexpected sensation.
"No offense," her voice was teasing, "but I think I had a rougher day at the office than you did."
He didn't answer, preferring to direct his focus upon the velvety softness of her skin against his cheek. These were uncharted waters for him, he realized as he listened to the steady beating of Brynn's heart. He could not recall a time in his life when he desired emotional intimacy just as fiercely as carnal love.
Still, the familiar scent of her – the feel of her – was as soothing as it was intoxicating. Odious furnishings bedamned, if Brynn but said the word, he would have laid her bare and bedded her there in an instant. She had bathed and changed clothes since their parting earlier in that morning, and her fitted top was doing very little to nudge Loki's lust-weakened thoughts in a purer direction.
With uncanny timing, Brynn asked, "What's got you down?"
"I find myself not feeling overly fond of 'slow,'" he admitted.
Her hand stilled.
Best not press your luck, Loki chided himself.
"Why were you talking to Bruce and Tony?" she asked, changing the subject.
"We were trying to determine why your seizures are worsening."
"And?"
Brynn tugged his hair when he didn't respond.
"And I find myself no fonder of Tony Stark than when we last met," Loki answered dryly, eyes still closed. "The conversation was entirely pointless."
"Sammy sometimes had a hard time with him, too," she mused. "Said he was too showy."
"Sammy was an excellent judge of character."
"Sort of," she agreed with a bit of a laugh. "He had a really bad habit of liking everybody."
Every muscle in Loki's body tensed, and he fought the childish urge to tighten his hold on Brynn and growl, Mine. His resentment of Sammy was all but gone, but this was his time. He did not want these moments spoiled with discussion of her late husband.
Again, however, Brynn surprised him, and let the topic drop. She adjusted herself to sit more comfortably against him and resumed toying with his hair. Loki's eyes drifted closed once more.
Weeks' worth of fatigue – the ever-present drain upon his magic, coupled with mounting stress and lack of sleep – had taken their toll, and as Brynn's fingers continued to skim across his scalp, he soon found himself growing so drowsy that he was in danger of nodding off.
Caught in that dopey, half-alert state between sleep and awake, where impulse blithely supersedes better judgment, Loki decided to indulge himself further. Straightening, he raised his head and muttered three ancient words in quick succession.
His surcoat vanished, and then his vambraces. His tunic and chest plate followed, leaving him clad in only the form-fitting black shirt he wore beneath, along with his breeches and boots.
A glowing orb of green light appeared in his hand next; Brynn let out a wild shriek and leapt out of his lap, standing clear as Loki tossed the sphere at the couch, where it burst on impact to leave behind a large, luminescent puddle.
"Give me some warning next time!" she sputtered as the glowing liquid started absorbing itself into the cushions. "That – that was like chugging a bottle of Listerine! Jesus!"
Her unique response to magic, coupled with being in close quarters to Loki as he cast such a rapid series of spells, had resulted in her receiving the equivalent of a full-body, Seidr-fueled electrical zap.
"Surprise," Loki replied absently. He had remained seated and was watching the last of the luminescent potion disappear into the upholstery.
Brynn opened her mouth to lambast him for his lack of remorse, but the words died on her lips when she saw that the enchanted half of the sectional had started to lengthen.
Several seconds and a few additional feet later, the couch met Loki's with satisfaction, and he waved his hand, palm-down, to break the spell.
Turning to Brynn, he offered her the same hand and requested, "Humor me?"
She dragged her gaze away from the couch and looked warily back at him.
"I shall abide by your stipulation of slow," Loki added, hand still extended.
Thusly reassured, Brynn went to take it but then stopped short. She looked at him, wide-eyed, and for a moment she seemed as though she might cry.
"I'm not trying to be a tease," she blurted out. "This morning, I mean. In bed."
"Nor I," the guilt Loki heard in her voice troubled him, "I…simply want to be near you."
Some of the tension left Brynn's face when she heard this, and she let Loki pull her back down next to him. He gave her a swift kiss on the forehead and before moving to swing both of his legs up and onto the couch, stretching out full-length on his side.
"If you wanted to cuddle, you could've just asked," she remarked as his head came to rest in her lap.
Loki merely hummed in response, eyes falling shut when Brynn set about trying to plait his hair.
How far the mighty have fallen, he mused.
"You need a haircut," Brynn observed as she carefully sectioned his hair into three strands.
"And you need to sleep, Sabrina Mae," he replied. "Shall we make a bargain? One for the other?"
This prospect was so appealing to Brynn that Loki practically heard her jaw drop. "You'd let me cut your hair?" she exclaimed.
"I'd consider it, yes," he had no intention of doing anything of the sort, "if you sleep."
"Deal!" she said gleefully, then ordered, "Magic me some scissors." This edict was accompanied by a rough nudge of her knee, jostling him.
Loki's eyes rolled beneath his lids. "Sleep first."
It may have been weeks since he'd last physically sat upon his throne, but the commanding tone in his voice allowed for no negotiation.
Grumbling, Brynn acquiesced and leaned in the direction opposite to Loki, still accommodating his head in her lap as she draped herself against his shoulder and waist to settle atop his side. She folded her forearms on his hip to cushion her head and let out a long, slow sigh.
"Thank you," he heard her say softly after a time.
"Whatever for?"
"For caring."
"Always," Loki replied sincerely.
"You know I care about you too, right?" That same guilt-ridden tone had returned to her voice.
Loki shifted to free his arm from between his chest and the sofa and reached up for her hand. Finding it, he eased her fingers away from where she had started worrying the bronze trim on his breeches and intertwined his fingers with hers.
"Yes," he answered. His thumb drifted back and forth across her knuckles. "I know."
Brynn went to speak but then reconsidered, opting for safer territory. "You're not really going to let me cut your hair, are you?"
"My dear, permitting you to do so is as likely as the Director re-growing his eye."
"So that's a no?"
"That is indeed a no."
There came a thoughtful pause.
"Could you regrow his eye?"
"I should be more inclined to regrow his hair," Loki muttered. "Now go to sleep, liten fe."
Fighting a yawn, Brynn snuggled closer and mumbled, "Whatever."
Their banter lapsed into silence as they watched the clouds drift past the windows, puffy whiteness gradually shifting to gray.
You will have your war, Asgardian. If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can not find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain!
The Other's words pounded throughout Loki's skull, reverberating mercilessly in and around him until his eardrums felt on the verge of bursting. Yet amidst the deafening clamor, he could hear another voice – someone calling his name.
Crags of rock gave way to starlit sky as the Sanctuary faded from sight. He began to feel the weight of someone straddling his hips, followed by the sensation of hands at his shirt, shaking him.
The same voice again. Female.
"Loki! Loki, wake up!"
His eyes snapped open.
A feral growl tore from his throat as he shot forward and seized his attacker by the arms. Slamming the woman onto her back, he landed crouched over top of her, one hand pinning her wrists above her head, the other pressing a dagger to her throat.
"What are you?" he hissed.
Lying caged between his knees, the frightened mortal tried to answer, but the wind had been knocked out of her and her voice kept failing.
"It – it – it's Brynn," she finally managed to croak. "It's me."
The blade of his knife kissed her neck in response, and a thin line of red lanced across her skin. Beads of blood began to form along the cut.
"Sabrina Fair," she blurted out.
Loki's brow furrowed at this nonsensical phrase, and his eyes trained on hers.
"Listen for dear honor's sake," her voice was shaking so badly that the words she spoke were nearly unintelligible, but he could still make them out, "goddess of the silver lake, listen and save…"
It was a poem, he realized when she fell silent. One that he recognized, and nothing he could recall ever hearing during his exile.
His grip on her wrists eased and he slowly lowered the knife. He studied at her face again, harder.
Realizing she had his attention, the woman took a quick intake of breath and continued, "I touch with chaste palms moist and cold, now the spell hath lost his hold."
Now the spell hath lost his hold…
And then Loki knew.
The dagger vanished.
"Brynn," he choked.
He released her and sagged back on his heels, anguished. What have I done?
Brynn's face was very white as she drew her arms back to her sides and eased herself out from under him, her eyes not leaving his for fear of what he might do next. Loki let out a strangled gasp when he saw the blood weeping down her neck and the mottled bruises about her wrists.
He began to babble, repeating, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over.
"It's okay," Brynn insisted as she pushed herself up to a seated position. Her voice remained shaky, yet she still reached out to put a comforting hand on his arm – and then halted. The little color that had started to return to her face drained away once more, but Loki did not need to see the fright in her eyes to know the source of her terror.
He was panicking, severely, and the glamour of his Aesir form was beginning to fade as a result. The link to Odin's magic had maintained the illusion during the panic attacks he experienced as a child, but more than a millennium later, it had never occurred to him until that moment that this protection would have ended upon the death of the Allfather.
A breath escaped from him in a hiss as he desperately called upon his magic, but dread of Brynn's reaction to his true form was fueling his own dread of himself, and his Seidr danced further out of his reach.
Loki clamped his eyes shut as Jotun continued to overpower Aesir. He could feel himself growing more attuned to molecules of water in the air, and his skin, now hyperaware to changes in temperature, sensed warmth approaching his hands.
"Don't!" he cried, "I'll hurt you –"
His eyes flew open, their irises and sclera both a vivid scarlet. Brynn had drawn closer and knelt couched between him and the pillowed sofa back, and he saw her courage falter when her gaze met his. In his Jotun form Loki could literally smell the scent of her fear – and likewise he caught the shift in pheromones when that fear gave way to stubborn resolve.
Through slitted lids, he watched as Brynn begin to fumble with her bracelet. She quickly re-looped the clasp over the sigil, and then yanked the sleeves of her shirt down over each hand. As the green of Loki's magic blanketed over her, she fisted both cuffs outside-in and then reached out, grabbing his wrists through the fabric of her shirt. The jersey instantly began to crust over with lacy swirls of hoarfrost, but her grasp remained firm.
"C'mon," she told him, climbing over his legs and getting to her feet. She pulled at him when he didn't move. "I need you to walk – Loki, stand up," she insisted.
Loki was in agony but nevertheless permitted her to haul him up and stumbled after her as she led him to the exit and out the door.
He lost all sense of time as Brynn ushered him down the corridor, small sheets of ice trailing behind him on the floor with every footfall. Soon he found himself facing a familiar set of double doors – the fateful practice studio in which his life's course had changed in the span of a single afternoon.
Brynn pushed one of the doors open with her hip and took a quick glance inside, then pulled him in behind her once she confirmed the room was empty.
"Wait here," she instructed.
After propping Loki up in the corner, she darted away, returning to his side so rapidly that he had no time to register her absence.
"All clear," she told him breathlessly. "Can you lock it? Really lock it?"
He had been endeavoring to keep his eyes shut for fear of frightening Brynn further, but reluctantly dragged his eyes open at her request, and saw that she was gesturing in the direction of the door. Dumbly, he reached out a hand; an unrestrained burst of magic – not his familiar emerald-gold Seidr, but glacier-blue – shot out from his fingers. Seconds later the doors were encased from top-to-bottom in a thick layer of ice.
Again came that same scent of Brynn's fear, but she simply grabbed Loki by the sleeve and continued leading him forward. Wherever she was dragging him took them past a mirror-lined wall, and he came near to collapsing at the glimpse he caught of the cerulean beast reflected in the glass. Moaning, he squeezed his eyes shut and kept them closed.
Soon Loki heard Brynn push open yet another door and felt her draw him into different room. The acoustics changed as he crossed the threshold; whatever chamber they had entered allowed for louder echoes of sound, and the surrounding air felt oddly damp.
A cool rush of air swept by him as Brynn stepped away. A moment later he heard the flick of a light switch, followed by the sound of running water. The air began to grow warm and humid, and soon he could taste the bright flavors of oxygen and hydrogen skimming over his tongue.
Realizing she must have brought him to some variety of washroom, Loki wearily opened his eyes and was greeted by the unexpected sight of a large, glassed-in shower. Brynn stood with her hand under the stream of water, impatiently waiting for it to warm.
Surely she was not daft enough to think she could simply bathe away the blue from his skin, he thought stupidly.
The water quickly heated, and Brynn turned back to Loki, tugging her shirtsleeves over her hands again as she went.
"Come on," she murmured encouragingly.
She grasped Loki by the wrists, coaxed him forward, and together they stepped inside the shower.
Water rushed down in a steady stream over them both as Brynn guided Loki to the floor, kneeling with him as she helped him to sit. Wonderment joined the pain in his face as she adjusted him to rest comfortably, and he found himself unable to look away from her.
Thick clouds of mist rose as the water saturated him from head to toe, and over many long minutes, heat slowly began to permeate his frigid form. Through the steam he could see Brynn crouched at his knee, her eyes flicking back and forth across his face as she studied him.
Loki wearily leaned his head back to rest against the wall, gazing at her in a stupor and watching the water droplets clinging to her eyelashes.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered.
Brynn's eyes softened and a sad smile touched her lips. "So are you," she replied.
Before he could stop her, Brynn suddenly reached out and put her palm to his forehead, then his cheek. His vulgar Jotun flesh responded with a surge of arousal as her fingers glided against the ridged patterns on his face, and he shuddered, turning his head away.
"You're still too cold," he heard her mutter. She twisted around and reached up behind her, turning the faucet as far as it could go. The temperature of the water increased to just short of scalding.
Loki started to tell her that the water was far too hot for her, Brynn ignored his pleas and turned back around to face him.
"Move," she ordered, and then began worming her way between him and the wall, leaving him no choice but to do as she demanded.
Brynn settled herself behind Loki so he sat between her knees, his back snug against her chest, his head coming to rest in the curve between her neck and shoulder. He was unable to stop the stuttered sob that escaped from him as her other arm slid under his and came around his torso, keeping him close.
Loki lifted a trembling, still-blue hand to cover his face. It was the first time since infancy that he had been touched by another whilst in his Frost Giant form, and instead of being abhorred, he was being embraced.
"I'm sorry," he tried to tell her again.
"Is this the frost thing you were talking about?" she asked.
Loki managed a nod, surprised when he felt Brynn's quiet half-laugh in response behind him.
"Tonight," she told him, "we're going to watch a movie called Avatar. And then we're going to watch the Smurfs. And then Smurfs 2. And if you keep up with this self-loathing bullshit after that, I'll make you sit through the Blue Man Group, which I already know you're going to hate, so you'd better quit."
His teeth gritted, despair momentarily forgotten. The little fool; did she find this funny? She should be running away from the demon, not towards it!
"How are you not afraid?" he spat. He pulled away from Brynn, turning half-around to glare at her over his shoulder. "How are you not repulsed by – by this," he disgustedly gestured to himself.
"I don't know," she answered blankly. Her eyes were wide, this time not from fear but confusion. "Does it matter?"
"Does it matter that I am more monster than man?" he cried. "That I am the spawn of –"
Brynn lunged forward with both arms, cutting him off, and clumsily yanked him back against her in a bearhug. The words stuck in Loki's throat and he slumped into her as she locked her hands around her wrists to hold him as tightly as she was capable. Her meagre strength was a butterfly's touch compared to his own, but somehow her embrace grounded him just as much as Thor's once did as a child.
A whispered, "Breathe," reached his ear.
Loki's vision blurred with tears.
"Don't think," Brynn leaned her head forward to press her cheek to his, and this time his body responded not with arousal, but with utter relief.
"You're safe."
He heard no trace of fear in Brynn's voice, sensed no hesitation in her touch. And for that moment in time, he knew where he belonged.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered closed.
"What was the dream?" she asked him later, after the hot water had finally run out. They had returned to the viewing lounge, and Brynn was helping him change into a set of SHIELD-issue athletic wear that she found in one of the supply lockers.
Loki sat numbly on the couch as she pulled a black cotton T-shirt over his head. It would have been easy enough to use a spell to dry himself, but he could not recall the last time he had permitted anyone to take care of him, and the experience was so disconcerting that he had submitted to her ministrations without protest.
Forgetting that Brynn was still waiting for him to answer her question, Loki blinked up at her and tried to surmise why she was shivering. He was in his Aesir form and warm to the touch once more; there was no reason for his proximity to be the source of her chill. Then he realized she was still sopping wet.
Brynn had just finished getting the shirtsleeve over his right arm and was leaning over him to start on his left when Loki stopped her. She looked at him in confusion, and then glanced down as he began gliding his fingertips along the hem of her shirt and down her hip. The fabric immediately began to dry.
As the damp finished evaporating from Brynn's clothes, Loki reached up to her with both hands and ran his fingers through her wet hair, drying it and restoring the soft, wavy curls he had grown to adore.
"That's a fun trick," she murmured, giving him a small smile as he judiciously tucked her hair behind her ears.
Loki nodded faintly and drew back, unable to muster the energy to make a verbal response. His eyes drifted towards the window as Brynn resumed guiding his other arm through the sleeve.
"What was the dream?" she asked a second time. She finished tugging the shirt the remainder of the way down his torso and then straightened.
He refused to answer.
"Loki?"
He felt a touch at his shoulder, but he continued to remain silent.
Undeterred, Brynn sank down and knelt before him. This was no show of obeisance; she was forcing Loki to acknowledge her, and he did as such when she leaned forward and reached up to touch his cheek.
"Please talk to me," she asked softly. She drew back when she knew she had his attention, her hand coming to rest atop his knee.
Loki could hardly bear to look at her. He had once yearned for humanity to kneel before him; now he longed only to throw himself at her feet and beg for absolution.
What was the dream?
His time in the Sanctuary had been dotted with periods of acute sensory deprivation. These fragments of time left him frantic and raving for contact of any kind, even agony that came under the guise of respite. By the end, his perceptions were so distorted that he was left longing for something as sweet as pain, for pain at least meant a reprieve from the agony of absolute nothingness.
Being held as a babe, his pale, warm, and petal-soft cheek nuzzled into Frigga's breast. Milk-drunk and surrounded by her loving warmth, only to be flung into the bitter cold, his frightened wails growing muffled as the whirling snow accumulated over his tiny blue body.
Phantom hands that flayed skin from muscle and left his flesh in ribbons, all the while surrounded by voices that soothed, buying his loyalty in exchange for the hope of a single gentle touch.
Rape that violated every orifice yet rendered him senseless with climax after climax.
Loki licked dry lips and attempted to formulate a coherent sentence.
"After I learned the truth about my parentage," he began, "I was in such a state of mind that I cared not whether I lived or died. During this time, I encountered an…individual."
His breathing grew unsteady as he recalled fighting his way back to consciousness after his fall from the Bifrost, only to open his eyes and see the Titan, leering down at him.
Brynn quickly reached for Loki's hands and gathered them in both of hers. The phantom vice squeezing his lungs loosened at her touch, and he could speak again.
"He lured me to him with promises of knowledge. Of power," Loki continued, voice dull and devoid of emotion. "Instead I was tortured. Physically. Mentally. Sexually."
Brynn's grip on his hands tightened.
"Violated in every way possible until my mind was unmade entirely," he was rambling now, "And when the pieces were rejoined, I was left no more than a shadow of the man I had once been. It was during this time that the scepter was entrusted to me, and I was unable to regain my sense of self until I was no longer under its influence. But the cost of my downfall was great."
…Look at this! Look around you! You think this madness will end with your rule?
…These people are innocent! You cannot sacrifice an entire race!
…You might want to take the stairs to the left.
Loki's eyes stung with unshed tears, but none fell. In all this time, he had not yet permitted himself to mourn, convinced that he was not worthy of the privilege and would always be as such.
His gaze dropped down to where Brynn's hands rested in his lap, still conjoined with his.
"My mother was murdered not long after," he finished, "and it took her death for me to truly start finding my way back to sanity."
Loki fell silent, and for a time the only sound that could be heard was the ambient hum of the Helicarrier's engines. Awaiting judgment, he finally lifted his eyes to look at Brynn.
Her cheeks and mouth were wet with tears.
"Oh, Loki," her voice hitched in a sob, "I'm so damn sorry."
A wave of despair crested over him when he heard her words, taking with it the last shreds of pride and self-possession he had left. He pulled Brynn up from the floor and onto his lap, clutched her to him, and wept.
Immediately, her arms came around his shoulders. She drew him close and began to slowly rock him, hushing him as he cried, letting him bury his face against her neck. Distantly, he thought that she would have been a wonderful mother; this realization only brought on another surge of anguish.
Sobbing, Loki clung to her like a drowning man and permitted grief to engulf him at last.
He mourned the loss of Frigga, who had loved him so well that she had borne the vitriol of his last words to her with an affectionate smile.
He mourned the wasted years, all spent being consumed with petty spite and jealousy towards Thor – his oaf of a brother who never waned in the steadfast belief that he could be redeemed.
He mourned the path his life could have taken, had Odin and Frigga only told him the truth from the start.
He even mourned the death of Odin, who for all of his faults was the only father he would ever know.
The list was seemingly endless, and the sky outside was black by the time his gasping sobs eventually subsided. Finally Loki took a ragged breath, swallowed hard, and raised his head. Avoiding Brynn's gaze, he loosened one arm from around her waist and – in a most unprincely-like fashion – dried his face and wiped his nose using the neck of his shirt.
He was too caught up in regaining his dignity to spot the knowing look that had entered Brynn's eyes as she waited, watching as the traumatized little boy was tucked away to be concealed behind the man.
Loki readjusted his shirt and managed a wan smile.
"I have taken terrible care of you today," he said, forcing a lightness into his voice that they both knew he did not feel.
He withdrew the arm that was still around Brynn's waist and took her wrists in his hands, wanting to survey the damage. Her skin was braceleted in bruises; it was a miracle that he had not snapped them completely.
"You know that's not your job, right?" she reminded him gently. "Taking care of me?"
"Yes," Loki admitted as he turned her hands over to look at her palms, "which makes me all the more appreciative of the times you permit me to do so. Do not move."
His fingertips began to glow, his Seidr once more its familiar shade green. He firmly pressed both of his thumbs into the soft flesh at the base of her wrists, which became encircled with slowly-rotating rings of green light.
Leaving the enchantment to do its work, he then turned his attention to the next wound.
"Have you ever talked with anyone about what happened?" she asked as Loki lifted her chin and carefully tilted her head to better examine the cut on her neck.
"If you are suggesting I throw myself at the feet of your precious Dr. Ives," Loki's voice was still gravelly but no less haughty, "then I will be forced to do something rash."
"Like what?"
Shatter every bone in her body, is what.
"Ow!"
"I'm sorry!" He yanked his hands back as Brynn flinched away, cursing himself for being so clumsy as to allow his anger to carry through into the spell.
"It's okay," she rubbed the newly-formed scab on her neck with a wince, "but let's just use a band-aid next time."
Loki smiled sadly as he went to check on the progress of her wrists, taking care this time to keep his emotions in check. The bruising was gone, leaving behind flawless skin.
"There won't be a next time," he assured her. He forced himself to end the spell, resisting the urge to maintain its appearance as an excuse to remain in contact with her.
She lifted an eyebrow at him, skeptical. "You're never going to fall asleep again?"
Loki shook his head, still wearing that same smile.
Comprehension dawned on Brynn's face when she realized what Loki was not saying aloud, and she began to stubbornly shake her head.
"No. No, no, no, no –"
"I could have killed you," he harshly reminded her as she shoved herself off his lap and stormed away.
Brynn stomped a few more steps before she spun on her heel and turned around, flinging her arms out in abject frustration. "Then don't sleep with knives anymore!" she said shrilly.
Loki sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, uncertain of how to make her understand without further incurring her ire – or frightening her.
"It is not as simple as that," he explained, "My magic is as much a part of my being as my flesh and blood. A millennium of instinct cannot be undone in an instant."
She gave him a flat look. "You're seriously telling me you've spent the last eight bajillion years sleeping with knives."
Loki half-shrugged. "In a manner of speaking, yes."
"What are you so afraid of?" she challenged, taking a step towards him. "That another Dark Elf is going to come stab you in your sleep? That Dobby's going to sneak in at night and steal your socks?"
"Do not make light of this," he said with a sigh. "I could never forgive myself if I caused you harm; surely you know that."
Brynn made no reply and stomped away again, seething.
Loki sat back in his seat and stretched his legs out, expression resigned, fingers pinched to the bridge of his nose for the second time that day. This sudden swing in mood was dizzying, and yet somehow he loved her all the more for it.
"OK, let's talk this out," he heard her say crossly. "You like sleeping with me, right?"
I should like to sleep with you every night for the rest of my life, if you would have me.
Loki opened his eyes and raised his head. "Yes."
"But you can't not have your dumb wizard knives."
Mouth thinned in irritation, he nodded again.
"Then why can't you just magic them so they can't hurt me?" Brynn demanded. "Make them turn into," she thought for a moment, "I don't know, they turn into strawberries or something if they touch me? Oh, wait," she paused, muttering, "I'm allergic." Then her expression became hopeful and she suggested, "Coconuts? You know what a coconut is, right?"
Loki looked back at her in astonishment, and then started to laugh.
She peered at him. "So…no coconuts?"
"Nary a one, I am afraid," he admitted, "but…" His voice trailed off and then he shook his head in amusement, bracing himself for the gloating he knew he was about to endure. "Modifying the spell is a perfect solution. I do not know why it did not occur to me…"
Brynn's eyes had glazed over. She was staring into space, lost in another seizure.
"…sooner," he finished softly.
To anyone side-eyeing Brynn's stratospheric, needs-of-the-many-outweigh-the-needs-of-the-few level of self-sacrifice: Brynn is partially based on a social worker friend/colleague of mine. In short, she makes Steve Rogers look like a try-hard. Her selflessness knows no bounds, and there have been more times than I can count where I was left picking my jaw off the floor when I saw the lengths she would go to in order to ensure kids and families got the support they needed. Brynn's willingness to retraumatize herself is how my friend would proceed if she were in the same situation, far-fetched as it is.
PLEASE NOTE: This fic has been completely re-edited. It was mostly cleaning up sloppy writing, and there are some added lines of dialogue or details here and there. The biggest change is Loki not adopting Birdy as a nickname for Brynn. (Thank you to masterofthefall for the consult.) Instead he's started using variations of "liten vannfe" which is Norwegian for "little water fairy," and is a reference to her namesake from the poem "Sabrina Fair."
Hugs, kisses, and all the things to rngingersnaps, nurisiliel, SnowGlobeQueen, Guest, masterofthefall, and for the reviews, and to everyone who followed/favorited. Getting those FF dot net notifications in my email means a lot.