Twenty-Four – Breaking Down
Kyra rushed to the edge of the roof, but it was too late. Krentz lay spread eagle on the ground far below, red seeping around the edges of his head. Screams went up from the street, and Kyra pulled away, unable to look anymore. She was shaking but whether from the rain soaking into her skin or her fury at having lost her chance at answers, her chance at justice, she didn't know.
Sirens pierced the air several blocks away, muffled under the roar of the storm. Kyra's dress was plastered to her skin and her hair lay in soggy clumps down her back. She let out a scream that was raw and guttural, a sound that frightened her though it felt wonderful to let it out. Loki stood watching her, his gaze holding no judgment, nothing but understanding. He understood her frustration, her fury. The knives hung loosely in his hands now that he no longer needed them.
As the reality set in and Kyra began to realize she'd get no revenge for Krentz's crimes, another emotion settled in. Fear. Krentz had said she was dying, that the serum was killing her. Instinct made her want to discount anything he said, but she knew how much her illusions took out of her. Nosebleeds, falling unconscious...
Krentz had seemed surprised that she was still alive. Perhaps the drugs had slowed the process. She hadn't even known about her abilities until recently. What if that had been the only thing keeping her alive all this time?
"Kyra?" Loki said her name tentatively. His black hair was soaked through, rivulets of rain flowing down his face. "Let's get you inside." His compassion should have been comforting, but she found she wanted his fury, his anger. But standing out in the rain would do them no good and so she nodded, letting him guide her back inside, out of the storm. She hardly noticed the long walk back down the winding stairs just Loki's hand on her back, gently guiding her.
The theater was in chaos down below, flashing lights blinding in the darkness. They melted into the gathered crowd, walking in silence back to the hotel. Kyra felt drained, the adrenaline she'd felt onstage melting into exhaustion. Back in their hotel room, Kyra grabbed a towel from the bathroom and began to work the excess water from her hair. She felt numb. It had all happened so fast.
Loki hovered. His clothes and hair were just as wet as hers but he made no move to dry himself off. He watched her like she was a time bomb about to go off. He waited for her to speak first, but words were impossible. She felt lost, frightened, left with more questions than she'd had even before. Was she dying? That question stood out first and foremost. She brought her eyes to Loki's tears poised to fall. She felt broken, familiar panic welling up within her.
Loki seemed to realize this, wordlessly stepping forward. He took the towel from her, tossing it aside, heedless to how damp it was. Then he took her hands in his. Kyra melted under his touch, the tears falling in a rush. She felt weak, vulnerable in a way she'd never allowed herself to be in front of anyone before. She'd built so many walls, bottled up her emotions for so long. She should have felt afraid, cautious of letting him see her vulnerability. But she didn't. Not with Loki, even if he'd never shown his own vulnerability to her willingly. But she had seen it even still. She knew he'd built up walls just like her, bottled up emotions until they burst out in anger and frustration. She was terrified now, and all she wanted was someone to hold her, to tell her it was going to be all right though it wouldn't be.
He frowned though she couldn't read the emotions on his face, in his eyes. Then he reached up a hand and brushed her tears away with his thumb. "Am I going to die?" she asked, the words choking out of her throat. She knew he didn't have the answer to that question, but she had to ask it.
"I'm not going to let that happen," he said, and the fierce determination in his eyes surprised her. They glowed blue and green, the colors merging like watercolors.
Kyra forced a smile. "Mortality has never felt so short."
"Don't say that." He put both his hands on her face now, pushing aside her damp hair. She leaned into his touch, his skin cool against hers. There was pain in his eyes now. Raw, open pain that she had never seen before. Her heart pounded a little faster. Her thoughts and fears and memories threatened to consume her. She wanted to let herself be consumed by his gaze, wanted to sink into it and forget everything that had happened. Loki's hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she pressed her hands to his chest where the fabric of his shirt clung to the contours and planes of his skin below. He was warm to the touch despite the damp clothing and his rain-cooled hands. She reached up on her toes, pressing her lips to his. He hesitated at first, and she knew her emotions were a roller coaster now. All she wanted was to lose herself in him, to have him kiss her into oblivion until all she could remember was the touch of his lips to hers, the feel of his skin and the warmth of his body.
He slowly kissed her back, hands falling to rest on her hips where her dress clung to her. It wasn't enough. She could still picture Krentz jumping from the building, his body splayed on the pavement. She kissed Loki harder, sliding her hands up so they rested behind his neck. He still wasn't close enough. She pressed against him, their bodies flush. His fingers tightened on her hips, and she could feel his heart beating faster. Kyra didn't feel so cold anymore. She was beginning to fall into him, mind forgetting her worries. They broke apart for air, and his eyes searched hers, his grip loosening. She held on tighter.
"Please," she whispered. "I just want to forget." She knew it was for the wrong reasons, but she knew they both wanted this, both wanted to be closer, both wanted more of each other. She didn't give him a chance to respond, kissing him again, running her fingers through his soft hair, the damp waves that had begun to dry from the warmth of the room.
"Kyra are you sure this is what you need?" Loki asked softly, pulling away from her ever so slightly so he could meet her eyes.
"Yes," she breathed, cupping his face and bringing it back down to hers. He slid one hand up her back, and she shivered under his touch as his hand met with her bare skin where the back of the dress scooped, fingers running over her spine. It didn't take much convincing because she knew he wanted to keep kissing her too. She was was flushed now, and she hardly felt the rain as it dried on her skin. She parted her lips, breathing him in, tasting him. Her heartbeats were sporadic now, pulse racing. She knew she was close to losing control but that didn't scare her. Not with him though it should have. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his dress shirt, and she was surprised when he carefully clasped her hands, pulling back. His pupils were wide, and he was just as breathless as she was.
He shook his head. "Not like this," he said softly. Kyra tried to draw back, feeling hurt and embarrassment, but he kept a gentle hold on her. "You're hurting, and I would do anything to take away that pain, but I'm not going to take advantage of it."
She held his gaze for a moment, taking the chance to catch her breath. Then she nodded. He was right. Of course he was right. Her emotions were unbalanced, out of control, and it wasn't fair to use him to forget even if what she felt for him was genuine. The strength of her feelings toward him surprised her. They'd grown so strong without her realizing, and now she wondered why she'd denied them for so long.
"I'm going to change into dry clothes," she told him. She needed a moment to center herself. "After that...I just want to be near you. You make me feel safe."
Something moved across his eyes, something happy, surprised, grateful. He nodded then, letting her go. "I'm not going anywhere," he told her.
She slipped into the bathroom, changing back into her worn jeans and a T-shirt, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. She blinked at her reflection in the mirror, her scared, wide eyes dark. She now felt embarrassed for throwing herself at Loki. She didn't know what had come over her—the desperation to forget, she supposed. It wasn't fair to use him as a distraction, and she hoped she hadn't broken this tentative thing between them. She forced herself to open the door.
Loki was back in his more casual Midgardian clothes looking as if he'd never been out in the rain. He reclined on one of the beds, back rested against the headboard. Kyra hesitated, standing unsurely in the doorway. Loki's eyes met hers and then he moved over, an invitation for her to sit beside him. She sat down carefully, tentative now. Her cheeks heated at the thought of her passion minutes before.
"Come here," Loki said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kyra pulled her legs up onto the bed, turning toward him as he wrapped an arm around her. Suddenly she didn't feel so awkward. She nestled against his warm body, resting her head on his chest just below his chin. One of his hands rested lightly on her side while the other brushed her arm, fingers gently tickling her shoulder. She relaxed, her heart finally slowing. She let the silence stretch out finding that the memories remained at bay while Loki's thumb rubbed gentle circles on her arm.
"What now?" she finally asked aloud, asking herself more than him. Krentz had been her only clue, her only lead to finding answers. Maybe she already had the answers she was looking for, and she just refused to believe the truth that was staring her in the face. Her parents had done bad things. They'd experimented on a person. Perhaps not an innocent one, but that didn't excuse what they'd done. The serum in the hands of an organization like Hydra could come at catastrophic cost. Her parents had to have known that. Had they gotten in too deep? That much was clear, but had they even tried to get out? How had what they'd done been protecting her? In the end, she hadn't been protected. She'd been left to face the monster they'd created.
"What more do you need to know?" Loki asked her. She knew what he was asking: what would satisfy her? What would give her the closure she needed? She wished she had the answer. She pressed her face into his collar, breathing in his scent: something like fresh, stormy air and some spice she couldn't place. She rested her hand on his chest, feeling the faint outline of his ribs beneath the muscles.
She took a long, rattling breath. "I want to know…" She gathered her words. She'd been too afraid to voice them before, but she had to say them now. "I want to know if they really were monsters. I want to know why they sacrificed everything for an organization built to cause terror across the globe. I want to know why they put their daughter in danger…" Her voice broke, and Loki tightened his grip on her. "Maybe I'm living too much in the past. I should just let go. Move on. But…somehow…I can't."
"I know how it is to hold onto something like that. To need answers about your past even if you'd be happier moving on."
Kyra realized she didn't know much about Loki's past. She knew so little about him, but she wanted to know more if he'd tell her. "Tell me more," she encouraged softly.
He paused a moment but then began to speak. "I know a thing or two about resentment toward parents. I wasn't born in Asgard…" He hesitated. "I was born in Jotunheim, realm of the Frost Giants. I am Frost Giant by blood." He lifted his hand, holding it before them, and the skin tinted blue before her eyes. She felt a rush of cold air as if winter had taken up residence in his hand. Then the skin flushed with color again, the blue fading. He set his hand back down on his other side as if hesitant to touch her again. Kyra reached out and took his hand, entwining their fingers, ignoring the lingering chill. She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath from him. He'd been expecting her to pull away.
"You don't exactly look like a giant," she told him. "You look human. Or at least Asgardian. Is that an illusion?" But she would have been able to see through that.
"No. I was small for a Frost Giant. Abandoned by my father. Odin found me and took me back to Asgard. I grew up at Thor's side thinking that was my true family. I didn't find out until… Well, it's only been two years. I spent all that time thinking I was Odin's son only to find out two years ago that I was the son of the frost giant king. A prince to a throne, but not the throne of Asgard. I always knew I was different. I never fit in with Thor and his golden child aura. I always felt a little out of place but never knew why until then."
Kyra pushed herself up on her elbow so she could look at him. "What happened?" she asked him. "Everyone speaks about you like you lived in infamy, but I see another side of you."
He looked at her, something glinting in his eyes like curiosity. "A good one, I hope?" He quirked his eyebrow, trying to make light of it though she could see her words meant something deeper to him.
"Yes, a good one," she told him with an exasperated smile. "You're more than your past, more than your mistakes, more than other people's misconceptions about you." She meant that. They'd started off on the wrong foot, and she'd certainly seen the sharp shields he put up, but that wasn't who he was. Inside, he was someone who cared deeply but didn't always know how to express it. He might not have been Asgardian by blood, but he genuinely cared about the city. He hadn't just wanted the throne for power.
He was still staring at her, a faint frown curving his lips downward as if he couldn't quite figure her out. Then he leaned forward, cupping her jaw and kissing her softly, his fingers sliding up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
"What was that for?" she asked when he pulled away.
A smile tugged his lips. "For listening. For being so patient when I'm not always sure I deserve it." He leaned back again, but his eyes never left hers. "What happened was that I let resentment for my brother get the better of me. I'd grown up always in his shadow, never the favored son despite my prowess for magic. I could never be as good as him at battle or as skilled with weapons. I wasn't as strong. Resentment festered for years, decades, centuries. Finally, I could stand it no more. I tricked Thor into traveling to Jotunheim to battle the Frost Giants after orchestrating a break in on Asgard in Odin's vault. I just wanted Odin to see how brash Thor was, how prideful and impulsive. I truly believed he didn't deserve the throne. My plan worked flawlessly for a time. Thor was banished to Earth, stripped of his powers, Odin fell under the Odin-Sleep, a restorative sort of sleep for when he needs to regain his power. My mother named me king of Asgard in his stead. With Thor gone, the right fell to me. I was king, rightfully, but that was quickly forgotten."
Kyra could hear bitterness in his tone. She knew Thor was a hero. After the Battle of New York, he'd become an icon on Earth. But everyone had two sides. No one was simply a hero. Even heroes had flaws. Looking at Loki, she saw a man who had fought for his right to rule truly believing himself to be a better choice than his arrogant brother. Perhaps he hadn't gone about it the right way. And perhaps Thor had learned his lesson in banishment. He must have or Odin would not have restored him to his former glory. There were two sides to every story, and this was Loki's side. She listened raptly, reserving judgment, just listening.
"My plot continued. I allowed Frost Giants into Asgard. Laufey, my blood father, was poised to kill Odin, but I killed Laufey first. I saved Odin to prove that I was a worthy son." His eyes flickered with frustration at his next words. "But then Thor had to come and ruin it all. He betrayed my plan, told Odin the truth. No matter that I had saved Odin in the end, that I had always planned on saving him. Everyone saw my misdeeds instead. They were blinded to my final act of saving Odin's life. But…" He paused here, eyes fluttering as he looked away from her. "…I wanted to wipe out the Frost Giants altogether. I wanted to destroy Jotunheim. Maybe I thought destroying it would rid me of my legacy, that it would prove me to be a worthy son of Asgard. Thor stopped me before I could destroy it though."
"Is that when your father locked you up?" she asked.
"Not quite." He gave a rueful smile. "I wrought much more damage before that."
"New York."
"New York. New Mexico," he listed off.
She remembered news coverage of an attack in New Mexico. That would have been around the time Loki found out about his true heritage. "That was you, too." His eyes searched hers, looking for judgment, for rejection. He'd faced enough rejection in his lifetime; he wouldn't find it from her.
"Yes. Whatever your parents did, they aren't monsters compared to me." Did he really believe himself to be a monster? Kyra didn't see a monster when she looked at him. She saw a man who'd lived lifetimes in the shadows, always overlooked. A man who'd tried over and over to prove himself only to be cast aside. She saw a man who felt deeply and passionately but didn't always express it in the best of ways.
"It's not so much about the mistakes we make," she told him. "It's about what we learn from them and how we move on. How we better ourselves."
"And have I really bettered myself? I tricked my brother into thinking I was dead, cast a spell on my father and left him stranded on Midgard. I stole the throne of Asgard."
"You also took in a girl who was haunted by a past she couldn't remember. You helped her remember, helped her find the truth. You followed her in search of answers." Kyra's pulse raced a little faster. She did see the good in him under all the layers of spite and defensiveness. It was there, glowing like an ember. "I asked you once to prove that you were worthy of the throne but instead, you left it to help me. A monster wouldn't do that."
He brushed his hand across her cheek again. "Where did you come from Kyra Winters?" he asked. "What fate brought you into my life?"
She shrugged, a smile tugging her lips. "An alien wormhole. I'm not so sure about fate."
His smile was genuine, something she'd seen so rarely from him. It opened up his face, lit his eyes. It showed a side of him she didn't think he showed to very many people if anyone these days. She leaned up to kiss him again. She'd never tire of the feel of his lips on hers nor his strong but gentle grip. What an absurd world she'd found herself in, falling for a mythical god that was far from a myth. The god of mischief. It didn't seem like a good idea, but somehow she knew she'd never be able to dissuade herself. There was something about him that made her feel alive. She could relate to him in ways she'd never been able to with anyone before. She thought she might be starting to understand him, and she thought that he understood her, too. She wanted to know everything about him, the good and the bad. She wanted to open up to him until there was nothing left to hide.
"I don't know what comes next," she said softly when she pulled away. "But I think I'd follow you anywhere." He lifted his brows, in surprise or disbelief, she didn't know. She didn't wait for a response, just tucked her head under his chin again, wrapping her arm around him. "For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong somewhere," she admitted. It frightened her how quickly she'd come to rely on him. She'd spent a lifetime pushing people away and being pushed away. She didn't trust easily, didn't lean on others. Maybe this wouldn't last. She was mortal after all. And sick. Her life would be over in a second compared to his. Maybe he would lose interest after a time. The thought scared her. But it didn't scare her as much as the thought of being without him. If she was going to die sooner than later, she wanted to make the most of every second. She didn't want to keep regretting, didn't want to keep mourning the life that had been ripped away from her. It might have been a good life if her parents had lived. If they'd said no to Hydra instead of signing away their lives and hers. She probably would have been happy. Normal.
But that wasn't the life fate had handed her if such a thing as fate existed. It had taken her a lot of years of pain and rejection and confusion, self-doubt and self-hatred to realize the past didn't define someone unless they let it. She refused to let the tragedies of her past drag her down, refused to become a tragedy herself, ankles weighted by desire for revenge. So what if her parents had been monsters? That didn't make her one. She would never make the same mistakes they did. They were dead, and they weren't coming back. Of course she missed them. Of course she loved them. But they were gone, and she was left with her own life to live.
Her eyes fluttered shut as exhaustion overcame her. Her breathing slowed, rising and falling in sync with Loki's own breath. She felt a sense of belonging that she had never felt before. It frightened her. It made her happy. It gave her hope.