In every era, on every world, every bar was the same.
To this, Sylvie could vehemently attest.
If she tried hard enough, she could almost convince herself that the air-conditioning was worth it all. Worth the total creep trying to make a pass at her two stools down. Worth the disgusting concoction she was nursing just to appear busy.
Worth being alone again.
It's only for a short while.
Only for a little while. Of course.
She was no fool. She knew how to weigh her options; how to choose need over want.
After all, she had been doing it all her life, why stop now? Especially when her only options were dying with friends in the sun or surviving alone in the dark.
If there was one thing Sylvie knew too well, it was herself. And she would always pick survival in the end.
That's just the way things are.
Only, they weren't anymore, we're they? She had Mobius and Loki now.
You don't have to be alone.
So, why was she?
Because Loki is an absolute idiot who won't take care of himself.
Scowling, she took another sip of her drink, resisting the impulse to make a face. It's just for show. Just blend in…
"I'm just sayin'…" And Norns, was he still there? Get a life! "You're alone, I'm alone…" His smirk was beyond grating and Sylvie rolled her eyes. "So, I was thinking—"
"That you'd foot the bill?" She asked, downing the rest of her drink and sliding it in front of him. "Thanks. Much appreciated."
Before he could even beginto stutter a reply, Sylvie was off her seat and pushing her way through the crowd.
The heat certainly didn't agree with her Jotun biology, naturally, but why should she be alone when she didn't have to? Perhaps dying in the sun with friends wouldn't be so bad.
Next time, she swore to herself as she shoved a drunk beach bum out of her path, I'm picking the vacation spot.
That's when she heard the sirens.
In every time period, on every planet she'd been to, something had gone wrong. After all, one couldn't hide in the shadow of an apocalypse without hearing a few warning sirens—and Sylvie had heard far more than her fair share.
These should have been no different. She shouldn't have cared.
She never had in the past.
Whoever was involved in the mess could deal with it themselves.
It's not my problem. This thought didn't stop her chest from tightening, however, and her feet from driving her out the door just a tad faster.
Why? She couldn't answer that question. Not now. Now, she could only run.
Because the ambulance was speeding toward the beach. And for some reason, that made the blood in her veins go colder than a Jotunheim winter.
Why?
She didn't want to know the answer.
Because the afternoon sun was at its hottest… And Sylvie was having a hard time remembering how long Loki had been out in the searing heat without pause.
It's not him. It's not him. If she told herself this enough times, then maybe… It can't be. Please, don't let it be him.
The instant she arrived on the scene was the instant she was torn between wanting to turn on her heels and vanish… and needing to dive headfirst into the fray.
It was her feet that made the choice for her by rooting themselves firmly to the ground. All she could do was stare.
Stare at the men and women piling out of the ambulance. At the curious, thickening crowd.
At the unconscious, sunburnt Loki being gently lifted onto the stretcher.
Why? Why did her instincts always have to be so right?
Catching a glimpse of Mobius is what finally got her feet moving. Mobius. He would know what was going on. He would have answers.
He would know what to do.
Only, he didn't look like he did… And the closer she got, the more clearly she could see the worry etched across his face.
"What happened?" The question seemed so natural, yet absolutely stupid considering what she knew of Loki.
Of herself.
Mobius just shook his head, arms crossed tightly around his chest. "I should've seen it coming." A soft curse slipped past the thin line that was his lips. "I can't believe I didn't see it coming."
"Mobius, what happened?"
"What do you think?" And Sylvie opted to ignore his uncharacteristically snappish tone—just this once. "He was already so dehydrated. He got overheated. When we tried to come join you, he passed out."
"Idiot," she heard herself mutter, her lips moving on autopilot as her brain focused almost entirely on Loki. "What an absolute idiot. Why didn't you stop him?"
"Why didn't you?"
"Me?" Because if she shouted loud enough, she could ignore the taunting inside her. The haughty whispers at the back of her mind reminding her that she'd left him. Abandoned him for better pastures. "He wouldn't listen to me!" You should have forced him to come with you, oh mighty Loki.
Stop it! Don't call me that!
"He wouldn't listen to me either!" With a rough shake of his head, Mobius surged forward, muttering under his breath.
But not before wrapping his hand tightly around hers.
For once, Sylvie didn't try to take charge. She couldn't. She just let herself get pulled along as she made attempt after vain attempt to center her mind.
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, man!
He should've known!
How does one just not take care of themselves like that?
Especially when you're a frost giant at the bloody beach!
You should've known.
No, you did know. And yet, you left him to die in the heat. Alone.
Because you wanted to be alone.
A shiver wracked Sylvie's frame. I never wanted to be alone…
The medics had just finished loading the gurney when Mobius slowed their little train to a stop. Before Sylvie could hiss the why on the tip of her tongue, one of the medics rounded on them.
"Family or friends?"
"Family," Mobius replied without hesitation. To say the admission startled Sylvie would be a gross understatement.
True, she had slowly come to picture her two idiots in that light, but to hear Mobius actually say the words aloud—actually confirm it… It plagued her with soft tingling feelings she didn't know what to do with.
"All right," the medic said, his tone swift and curt. "There's room for only one of you in the back. The other will have to go up front on the passenger side."
Only one. Sylvie's throat went dry.
"Go on," Mobius said at last, nodding at the back of the ambulance. "You go."
And oh, how she wanted to! She wanted to jump in there and slap Loki across the face for being such an absent-minded fool. Then, embrace him for all he was worth. Because he can't die. You can't let him die!
Yes, she wanted to. She so badly needed to. Which is why the next words to come out of her mouth took her completely by surprise.
"No, you." When Mobius opened his mouth to protest, she held up a hand. "I'm not arguing about this. You go. Right now, you're more level-headed than I am. Besides, you were there when it happened. It has to be you."
She didn't give him a chance to fight it, to give whatever pathetic arguments he had tucked away in the back of his mind. She simply nodded at the medic, then strode toward the front of the vehicle.
Riding in an ambulance had never made it to a spot on her bucket list. Just the opposite, in fact. Because riding in one never meant good things. Never. And she was so tired of losing people. So tired…
I can't lose him.
I can't.
The driver never spoke to her, not for the entire duration of the ride. For that, at least, she was grateful—though she could've done without the looks of pity and concern that we're showered upon her.
She didn't trust herself right now. Didn't trust her voice nor her words. A tongue lashing was seering the roof of her mouth, just waiting for a victim. Any victim. As long as it was someone she could yell at—could use to vent her unwelcome emotions.
Someone she wouldn't care if she hurt.
After all, that's what you're best at, aren't you? Hurting people?
Shut up.
She just hoped Loki would be all right. Let the doctors work whatever sort of magic they possessed, to use the term loosely.
If he died…
Shut up! He's not going to die.
If he did…
She wasn't sure she could ever forgive herself.