Chapter 27

Love is divided into the horrible and the miserable. – Woody Allen

Ten days passed as Loki did little more than lay on the small cot and watch the ceiling. He had refused to allow anyone to attend to his wounds, knowing that they were not serious enough to endanger Eir's life; he had long since ceased caring about his own. The dull ache in his knee was the only thing he had left to remind him he still lived and it too was nearly healed.

Loki took little notice of the comings and goings of the marauder prisoners or even of the guards who retrieved his uneaten meals, so he did not even glance towards the voice outside his cell, calling his name. On the voice's third attempt, he finally slid out of his self-imposed haze and limped towards the door, more from the stiffness of inactivity than his lingering injury. He didn't even bother with creating an illusion of his own civility for the visitor, he merely let them see him as he was—thin, weary, and broken.

"I received your message. What do you want?" Lady Sif asked, clearly irritated that he should summon her. Still dressed in her battle armor, blood spattered across her vambraces and cuirass, it was clear the only reason she stood outside his cell was that she had been delivering more prisoners to the cells.

"I did not think you would come. No one else has," he said simply.

"Do not try my patience, Loki. I have far more important prisoners to attend to," she said, motioning to the nearby cells filled with common foot soldiers.

"Of course. I will be brief." He lowered himself to his knees with a pained expression. "Forgive me for my impropriety, but they would not allow me a weapon for this purpose," he said, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it before settling with his arms outstretched towards her, palms up. "I would offer you the customary Rite of Retribution, but as you have no doubt heard, I share a lifebond with… with Eir. If killing me would not endanger her, I would gladly offer up my life to you in payment for my sins against you. But seeing as Lady Eir is blameless in this, I am asking you to spare her. Instead offer you an unlimited opportunity to harm me in any way you see fit, for as many days or weeks or years as you deem necessary."

"This is one of your tricks," she said, turning to walk away.

"No! Please, Sif. Please don't go," he begged her. "The guards have a set of chains which render me immobile and unable to use magic. There is even a gag to keep me from speaking," he said uncomfortably. Sif paused, but di d not turn around. "They can restrain me before you even enter the cell. That way, there can be no tricks."

"Does Thor know?" She asked, finally facing Loki again.

"That I have offered this to you? No, and I have no intention of telling him." Loki nodded towards the two guards. "They respect you and care nothing for me, so it is very likely that they will simply look the other way when you come to exact your vengeance," he said before laughing weakly, "As they would for anyone else who wished to do the same."

Sif silently studied him as he stood on the other side of the barrier.

He leaned closer, nearly touching the yellow bands of energy that kept him imprisoned. "I saw her, Sif. She's beautiful and smart and happy."

"Shut up," Sif warned, not wanting to raise her voice enough to attract the guards' attention. "You have no right to even speak of her."

"I just wanted you to know that she is loved and well cared for," Loki said softly, with more sincerity than Sif had ever heard from him. He turned to make his way slowly back to his meager bed.

"Guards!" Sif called out in a commanding voice that brought them immediately to attention. "Chain the prisoner. He has offered me Retribution and I intend to collect."

Eir spent the first two weeks of her self-imposed exile alone where she landed, on a remote island off the west coast of Ireland. It was the site of her second priory, where she took her vows in the mid 1200's, and it was by far her favorite. It was wild and remote and so far removed from the cares of the rest of the world that it became her own personal sanctuary, the place where she first felt that she had come to terms with her fate. She and a handful of other nuns lived silent, solitary lives, free from their pasts and whatever unfortunate events had driven them to such extremes. When the island had been offered up for sale in the early 1870's, Eir purchased it purely out of sentiment. Now, as she meandered through the misplaced stones she found herself haunted by regrets, standing in the rain staring at the weathered headstones in the tiny cemetery, and she envied the mortals their early deaths.

Her healing kit and clothes were still in Asgard while her credit cards, ID, cash, and cell phone were in her apartment in Stark Tower, along with her passport. Sure, she had other such items stashed with a dozen different identities in as many countries, but this place was not one of her safe houses. She hadn't stepped foot here in more than fifty years and she had to admit that all she wanted was a place to hide, not a stepping off point for a new identity. She was too emotionally tangled to Realmwalk now that the singular need to escape had subsided, not that she would consider returning to Asgard in the near future, but that level of magic required a level of mental focus she could no longer muster. So she stayed there in Ireland where no one could see her weep.

When the wars on Vanaheim were contained, she resolved to send a letter to Thor politely declining his proposal in spite of the fact that she was certain her abrupt departure and subsequent disappearance from Heimdall's sight would be sufficient to inform him of her intent. For the moment, Eir knew only that Loki lived and her brief glimpses of his unhappiness reassured her that Thor had not been slain in their battle and Loki had been returned to his cell, though she shielded herself tightly as she could immediately thereafter. She did not even dare to sleep as this would make her more vulnerable to his contact.

The island's lone cottage held no food but she hadn't been hungry anyway. She had fishing gear though it hardly seemed worth the effort. It was enough to just sit and stare out at the ocean or walk among the ruins, realizing that she could no more reconstruct her past with Loki than she could rebuild the priory from the broken and weather-beaten stones that now littered the ground.

In the end, the peace she hoped to find amongst the silence eluded her. Gods, she had been so foolish. She had dared to hope that she might have some kind of future with the man she loved, maybe some semblance of happiness, but by now, she should have known better. Hope was never something she had been permitted to hold onto for long.

Ultimately, she built a small fire on the beach, laid some fresh branches on top of it, and waited. The locals knew the island was uninhabited so all she had to do was wait.

Stark Tower, three days later

The persistent knock at Eir's door did nothing to rouse her. In fact, she hardly noticed it at all. All she could see was Loki's face as he called her a liar and a whore. Maybe he was right.

"Erin?" Clint's muffled voice filtered through the door. "Eir? Are you in there?" He pounded on her door but when she didn't answer, he called Tony.

"How's it hanging, Legolas?"

"I'm standing outside of Eir's door but's she's not answering. Are you sure she's in there?"

There was a slight pause. "The last time the electronic lock on her door was opened was two days ago and windows on the thirty-third floor don't exactly open to the outside. There's a person-sized heat signature in her quarters and as Pepper just now thought to inform me, she personally escorted Eir into that room forty-nine hours ago. So I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that, yes, I'm sure she's in there."

"Open the door," Clint demanded.

"Pepper says she wants to be alone. Maybe you should, I don't know, 'give her some space'?"

"Open the damn door, Tony, or I will break it down."

"Fine, fine. But if she kicks your ass into next week with some magical mojo, don't say I didn't warn you," Tony said, hanging up.

A few seconds later the electronic lock popped open and Clint stepped carefully into the small studio apartment. "Erin? Eir?" Seeing her immobile on the sofa, he covered the distance to her quickly and efficiently, scanning the rest of the room for any sign of a struggle. Finding none, he set about looking her over for obvious injuries. He took her face in his hands gently. "Can you hear me?"

Her eyes suddenly shifted back into focus and she pushed backwards, startled at finding someone in her quarters touching her. Clint's chest barely moved when she shoved him but he got the message and released her, only to have her fall weakly back against the cushions. "Sorry," she whispered and closed her eyes.

"Eir, look at me," he said in no uncertain terms and with some effort, she complied. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"Just tired," she managed to reply.

"You've been in here for two days. Have you been sleeping this whole time?"

"I can't sleep. I won't." Loki would have a way past her shields through her dreams.

"How long, Eir? How long has it been since you slept?"

"A few weeks. Since I got back from Asgard. And don't use my real name. I don't want the gatekeeper—don't say his name- to know where I am." She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

"Riiiight. I have no idea what you're talking about, but fine. Can I call you Erin?" She nodded. He paused to look her over, then the small kitchenette and the trash can. "You aren't eating. You've lost at least fifteen pounds since I saw you last. What happened to you?"

"I'll be okay," she said, trying to reassure him.

"Look, I don't know anything about alien biology and I doubt anyone else here does either, but I know you don't look good. Is there someone I can, I don't know… summon? One of your healers?"

She shook her head. "No, there's war in Vanaheim and the healers are needed there. I should go too," she said, resettling her head on the back of the sofa. "Soon." She had stashes of healing herbs and needed items in several safe houses, though none of the kits were as complete as the one she left in Asgard.

"Sure, soon, but not right now." Clint was sympathetic. After all, he'd holed up in worse places to lick his wounds but he knew that those times that Tasha had been with him were far more tolerable. He suspected Eir had been alone for a lot longer than two days. "Do you want me to get Dr, Banner?"

Her focus drifted away and she stared at the wall without really seeing it. "There is nothing he can do," she said softly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Clint asked finally.

"About what?" She said, trying to keep the quivering out of her voice.

He kept his demeanor calm despite his growing frustration. "What happened with Loki, Erin?"

Her eyes flashed and Clint knew he'd found the root of the problem. "He is back in his cell is Asgard. You needn't worry for Earth's safety."

"I wasn't worried about Earth's safety; I know you wouldn't let him do any more damage here but what I am worried about is your safety."

Her expression conveyed bewilderment. "Mine?"

"Yes, yours. Look, I understand that while everyone trusts you, you trust no one. I get it. Still, you look like you could use a friend. Why don't you freshen up and I'll order some food," he said, picking up his cell without waiting for her response and motioning to the bathroom.

Half an hour later Clint sorted the various Chinese delivery boxes on the table and popped each of them a Diet Coke. He pulled up the only chair in her small apartment and sat opposite her. Now, he only had Thor's appetite to use as a yardstick, but he hoped that twenty entrees would be enough to last until morning. He put four of them down in front of Eir and handed her a fork before leaning back and crossing his legs, digging in to his lo mein while he patiently watched her, clearly expecting her to follow suit.

She ate slowly, hoping that she could appease him and gently convince him to leave her to her misery, but within the hour his plan paid off and she managed a weak smile. "Thank you," she said, setting down her fourth empty container of food, "but you do not have to do this. You owe me nothing. Helping you during your time of need was my honor and my pleasure."

The old, straight-backed wooden chair he occupied creaked as he leaned forward towards her, his forearms against his thighs. "It's not about that. Helping you has been my honor and my pleasure," he said seriously. "Besides, I think I pretty much satisfied any cosmic karma debt to you when I stole a SHIELD helicopter and left you in charge of a madman with a deplorable track record on human rights," he said more light-heartedly but his gaze still demanded her eyes in return.

A single nod of acknowledgement was all she intended to give as a reply, but she found she needed to explain herself. "Loki remains free of the Casket's influence and he really tried to be a better person." She finally looked away as she reached for another container of Chinese food. Clint remained quiet but expectant. "Together we created a new Bifrost, and there were times when we," she said, clearing her throat, "when he seemed almost happy."

"Until…"

"He and Thor fought. Because of me. Over me," she said, wiping a tear from her eye before it could reach her cheek. Then, against her better judgment, Eir told him much of the story, finding it more and more difficult to hold back the tide of emotions.

She wasn't sure when it happened, but Clint was just there, next to her on the sofa, with his arm around her shoulders. "Do you love him? Loki?"

Eir nodded. "I have always loved him. I still love him even now when he thinks me a liar and a whore. I am such a fool."

"Ssshhh…" he whispered into her hair, rubbing his cheek against its softness and pulling her gently closer. "He's the fool for ever letting you go."

The accumulated tension slowly left her body as Clint remained still and asked nothing more from her. While his touch would never be like Loki's, Eir realized that in a very short period of time, she'd become accustomed to being held by a man while she slept, and she could feel her mind drifting off. When she looked up at him, she saw the desire in his eyes coupled with an intense loneliness, but rather than try to close the distance and kiss her, he just resettled her head against his shoulder and leaned his own head back against the wall.

"Sleep now, Erin. I've got you."

It felt good to be held and cherished, if even for one night, and she was too tired to resist the pull of sleep any longer. "Thank you," she said, and as her eyelids fluttered closed she whispered, "She's lucky to have you. She loves you, you know."

He'd closed his eyes but they popped open. "Who?"

"Miss Romanoff. You think she doesn't but she does," she said sleepily. "And you love her."

He took a series of short breaths. "I suppose you used magic to figure that out?"

She smiled sadly and squeezed his hand. "I am a thousand years old and I think I know a thing or two," she sighed sleepily as she drifted off, "about unrequited love."

Just before dawn, Clint moved Eir to her bed and lay down on top of the plain white comforter next to her. She seemed less restless when he was close and touching her, so he kissed the back of her hand once and fell asleep moments later with a smile on his face.

Loki startled awake in a pool of his own coagulated blood, coughing uncontrollably as he tried to clear the rest of it from his airway.

"Good, you're awake," Sif said, tucking the small stone back she had been playing with into her tunic. "I feared I would have to waste a perfectly good healing spell on you."

"We can't have that," said Loki, awkwardly pushing himself back up to his knees by means of the wall of his cell. Sif had dispensed with the gag three days prior, preferring to hear his screams, but she'd left him shackled. She wasn't stupid.

Sif walked slowly around him in a circle, just out of arms reach while Loki tried to release the tension from his muscles rather than trying to anticipate her attack. He shifted his weight uncomfortably between his knees courtesy of her first blows of the night across his kneecaps. She circled him once more before turning to his small table and to pick up a clean, white rag to wipe his blood from her blade.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" Loki asked meekly, not daring to look at her. "Please?" He needed her to return. He depended on it. Vengeance and pain, retribution and penance- These were the only things left.