Author's Note: So. We're back. It's VERY odd to come back to this after a few years, but there you are. I'll be honest-I can't promise anything. I love this story, and it means a lot to me, but life has a way of interfering with hobbies like writing. For those who have commented even in my hiatus-thank you! I appreciate you, and I hope you can take this fic for what it is: something that may continue, even slowly, or may not for some time. Either way, enjoy a new chapter!
XX. Liar
Loki was quiet for a very long time. He stared down at his hands, his long fingers running over and between each other, trying to work themselves into knots that never stayed for long. His bones felt thin and trembling beneath his skin, and nearly as fragile as his mind.
"I meant to," he said finally, in a low voice that strained for the right words. "I think." It no longer seemed to matter whether he showed his uncertainty; Thor would know the worst by now.
"So why didn't you?"
Still Loki did not look up, but he was oddly grateful for the softness of his brother's voice—the lack of accusation, the slow encouragement. Most of their conversations lately had turned to arguments. He was too tired for that today.
He shook his head and pressed his fingers to a point between his brows, kneading gently and letting down his shoulders with a low, resigned breath. "I just—didn't."
It was as simple as that. He had awoken again, tense and uneasy, and with reality crashing around him; and he had gone, seeking nowhere in particular but anywhere that might be a haven, a place where he could breathe. Somehow, he had ended up here. It was a space that still smelled like home and helped him remember a distant, gold-tinged life where not everything had felt like night. And even if it was all a lie, the memory was enough to keep him here: a child clutching at an impossible prayer.
"I'm glad." Thor sighed, and sank heavily back against the wall. He stared at Loki for some time, unusually quiet, before going on in a low voice, "I do not wish to be your enemy, Loki. I never did. But you force me to it—you build these walls until I have to try to tear them down, to reach you.." He shook his head, quite wearily it seemed.
Loki hesitated and swallowed carefully. "I know," he ventured, surprised at his own agreement. There was a note of apology in his voice, one he had not meant to put there, but it seemed wrong to pull it back.
Thor hardly moved, but he was, at least, still looking at Loki. Any aggression had fled from his posture; he looked tired now, as if gravity were pulling more heavily on him. "Do you?" he asked, sounding resigned.
"I am more aware than you think." Loki looked down again, tracing a finger over the veins in the back of his hand. "I know what's been happening to me."
"Loki, you are not going mad."
Once again, Thor's utter lack of subtlety took Loki by surprise. He snapped his head up, defensive at first, until he saw the earnestness of his brother's gaze. It had not been a mockery after all—not even a bit. So what, then? Reassurance? It seemed terribly feeble in light of what had happened lately.
"Am I not?" Loki whispered, and he flashed a smile for a moment—quiet, uneasy, and more than a little desperate.
Thor shook his head slowly, made as if to speak, and then seemed to reconsider. Loki watched him silently until he tried again.
"On Midgard…" Thor still seemed to be working through it. His brow was furrowed, his eyes greyer and distant with memory. "I thought so then. You were—thoughtless. Uncontrolled. It wasn't how I remembered you."
Loki ground his jaw a little, trying not to react. "I'm not how you remember me."
"But you are not mad—not like you were on Midgard. You're just—changed—and now I know why."
You know some, Loki wanted to correct him, but he did not speak it. This soft and unexpected openness between them was still a breath of relief, and though he would be the last to admit it, he was not ready to give it up so quickly. They would be at each other's throats again in short order—Thor would lose patience, or Loki would retreat, slam up one wall too many, and the status quo would be as it always was. But for now, Loki found himself tired enough, and afraid enough, to let his brother past those barriers.
Still, that did not mean he felt up to the discussion Thor was veering towards, at least not the specifics. Instead, Loki focused on something else—something that, oddly, had been bothering him for hours now in the back of his mind.
"You walked away from me last night,' he said quietly.
Thor arched a brow. "And?"
"When I needed y—"
"You didn't need me," Thor cut him off in a flat, unimpressed voice. "At least not my help. You were looking for a target, and that, Loki, I will not be—not even for you."
He was getting better at reading Loki. It was quite unnerving. Loki worked his jaw again for a few seconds, not quite ready to back down, but no longer sure at what angle to approach this conversation. The uncertainty soon got the better of him, and he found himself thinking he could see derision in his brother's eyes. It was easier to speak in the face of that.
"You must think me so pathetic now," he bit off, his lips twisting. It mattered. He didn't know why.
"No." Thor shook his head. "On the contrary, I venture to think I know you a little bit better."
Loki made a contemptuous noise low in his throat. "Thor, even I cannot claim that. I hardly know myself—I-I'm a ghost, a shadow, a memory—"
The words were getting away from him, tumbling from his lips in a rush of honesty he could not control and certainly had not meant to say. He dreaded to look at his brother now for fear of seeing that some sort of infuriating pity.
"Loki…" Thor's voice was soft with surprise. "Whatever your vices-and I admit there are many—you are still more than that—"
"To you, perhaps," Loki muttered. He shook his head. "You see what you wish to see, brother. But it is a lie. I walk in the shadow of someone who does not exist, trying to retrace a path that leads nowhere… " He looked up finally. "And I see no end."
So there it was—the thought that had been taunting him, paining him, never letting him rest, and that, until now, he had never found the words for. He fell silent, waiting for the relief that surely must come now that the fear was spoken; but all he felt was a cold and hollow resignation. He let out a shaking breath and passed a hand slowly over his eyes.
"Brother."
Against his will, Loki looked up. His throat was tight.
"There will be an end, brother, I promise you." Thor had shifted again, and his voice was full and earnest as he scooted across the small space towards Loki. "And if it is in my power to bring it about, I will; but my vows mean nothing if you will not meet me halfway." He gave a slight, wry smile. "I can't make you choose, Loki. Sometimes I wish I could. But your will is your own, as it should be—and you must decide your path."
Oh, how easy it would be to refute those words. The rebuttals were already spinning in Loki's thought, a dozen answers riddled with scorn and incredulity. He seized one.
"Thor, if there is one thing I have learned, it is that my will doesn't matter." He looked up. The words were not as harsh as he could have made them; in fact, they were quite mild given the circumstances, more resigned than anything. "You, Odin, Frigga—you have all made that very clear to me. And maybe I could accept that, if you weren't so damn determined to play the saint and pretend like I have a choice."
There was a challenge in his voice, and he knew from the look on Thor's face that he had heard it, too. Loki pressed his lips together, exhaled, and finished softly, "I believe that makes it your move, brother."
Thor stared at him, and again his expression was irritatingly opaque. But Loki had found patience again. He waited, trying to ignore the knot of apprehension in his stomach. This could so easily backfire in the next few seconds.
"Loki, I can't let you wander unchecked—not after what you've done." Thor sounded truly regretful now. An interesting change, if not a helpful one. "Not without some assurance that I can trust you."
"And my word isn't good enough." Loki eyed him flatly.
Thor made a low sound that might have been an attempt at a laugh. He spread his hands in front of him. "How many times have you lied to my face even in the last day? I wish I could trust you. I wish that was all it took." He gave a slow, tired smile. "But I know you, brother, at least in this. How can I give you the benefit of the doubt when you are the one reminding me what a fool I would be if I did?"
Even Loki had to admit, he had a point. Perhaps mocking Thor for his (questionable) leniency had not been the best idea.
"So you're saying I have once again dug my own grave," he muttered. He leaned his head back and breathed out very softly between his teeth.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Loki—do you really want to die?"
So they were back to that. Loki did not look over immediately. Thor's voice was still quiet, but now the dryness had been replaced with something else—a kind of aching question, as though he could still not believe Loki had said it.
"Let's put it this way—it would solve one hundred percent of my problems." Loki reluctantly raised his head again and followed it with an arched brow. "And a good deal of yours, actually. Odin wasn't a complete fool—he knew what he was doing when he considered it."
Thor shook his head very sharply. "I would not have let him—"
"I know. You have this infuriating habit of putting sentiment before expediency—sometimes." Not always. Loki shrugged, and he let his voice fall back to something easy and emotionless. "It varies, actually. Some days the idea of not existing is terrifying. And others—the thought of living is."
It was a simple enough admission, if he did not think about it too closely—if he pretended he was outside of his own head. He knew Thor would take it more seriously, though, and there was an odd advantage in that. He would have seen the dagger last night. If he thought Loki might actually do something drastic, he just might be more inclined to relent and give Loki more substantial breathing space.
There was a long, considering pause. Then—"What can I do?"
"You can stop making living so damn difficult," Loki snapped almost before Thor had finished speaking. Anger rose in his chest, but he was quick to get it under control. This was the furthest he'd gotten with his brother so far, and pride was no longer enough reason to cast aside their progress.
Thor sighed heavily. "Loki, if it were only between us—if no one else were threatened—"
"Give me a chance."
Loki's voice bore an odd note—something close to a plea. He held Thor's gaze, for once in his life willing him to see that he was genuine. He needed this. He needed this badly.
And Thor's eyes, so tired and flinty of late, suddenly softened in resignation. He stared at Loki for a long time without saying anything, long enough to irritate, as though he were reading through Loki's many faces and trying to find the one he really wanted. Perhaps he even found it, for his next words still took Loki by surprise.
"I'll talk to Mother," he said.
A shiver of relief ran down Loki's spine.
"Thank you," he whispered. The words were not as bitter a taste as he might have thought.
Thor nodded slowly, looking very much as though he still had reservations, but he did not try to take anything back. Instead, he only gestured tiredly with one hand. "Do you—want to tell me any more? About what happened?"
Loki frowned; he had expected a command, not a question. "No," he answered quietly, now looking at his hands instead of at Thor. "Do you expect to make me?"
"No." Thor shook his head. "I only wished to offer. But can I ask you one thing?"
Tensing, Loki eyed him warily. "That depends."
"You thought I tried to kill you." Thor leaned forward, his hands grasping his knees and a look of confusion and earnesty on his face that somehow made him look very young again. "Why, Loki? We were both there. Why would you think—"
"I know what I remember."
Loki had meant it sharply, but the words lost their edge somewhere before they reached his voice. He shut his eyes, breathed slowly, and tried to reach back amongst the pieces of his thoughts. "And what I remember," he went on slowly, "is you, standing there at the edge of the Abyss—" His features tightened. "—and from the pieces of the Bifrost you threw me into the darkness. Yes, Thor, I was there." His eyes flashed open again, now glinting a little darker. "And still you would try to tell me it was different?"
Thor's expression twisted abruptly. "It was different," he breathed. Loki stiffened but remained silent. "Loki, I caught you—you were holding on, and so was I, and in that moment, brother, I would have given anything to save you. I saw the fear in your eyes—you were so afraid—I saw it—and then—" He swallowed tightly. "Then I saw something change—and I knew what you were going to do a heartbeat before you did it."
Something strange was happening. Loki could picture it all as he listened, but he realised suddenly that he did not know where the recollections were coming from. It was so clear…
"You let go." Thor's voice was thicker, struggling to remain composed. "You let go, and with all my strength I could not pull you back."
A sudden pain shot through Loki's head. He forced a hand against his eyes, and inhaled sharply. "Stop," he bit out, shaking. What in hel was happening? "Stop talking—"
"Loki?" Alarm sharpened Thor's voice. Through the clamour in his head, Loki heard him shift. "What—"
"I know what I saw!" Loki spat. He needed to believe it. His eyes were open, but he could not see the room in front of him; his memories were suddenly cracking and blurring, spinning in front of his vision. "I know what happened—"
But he didn't. He could no longer be sure—and as the memories shifted and rearranged, like shards of glass cutting him deeper each time they moved, he felt his stomach give a sickeniing lurch. Norns, he didn't know anymore… What else wasn't real? What else had been changed?
And then, quite abruptly, the pain vanished. He was left sitting there in sudden silence, his hands clutching his temples and his breath still catching in his throat. He felt Thor's hand brush his shoulder, but he jerked away with a low hiss. "Don't—"
"Loki, are you alright?"
Loki was cursing under his breath. "Shit—" he breathed, his hands and voice shaking in equal measure. "I thought—I knew—" He curled over, clutching at his head and shutting his eyes very tightly. Breathe. Focus. Breathe.
If Thor said anything in the seconds that followed, Loki had no knowledge of it; he could concentrate only on his own thoughts, on slowly allowing the pieces to come back into focus. They were different than he remembered; or, perhaps, it was that they were now as they always should have been. Thor was not the liar, after all—and as Loki deigned to acknowledge it, he thought he felt a shadow lift from somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind.
When he finally resurfaced again, he could immediately feel Thor looking at him. He raised his head—it felt very heavy now—and let out a long, slow breath.
"Well, look at that," he said softly. "So good a liar, even I didn't know it."
