^ ^ ^ ^
Bethany brought her little "bundle of joy" out of the nursery and into the living room. The child had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling from ear to ear. Apparently, Grace was just upset that she was not in the same room as the new company. Her eyes danced when she spotted Loki.
Loki smiled back. "Hello, little one." Bethany brought her daughter closer, obviously assured that Loki meant no harm to her daughter. "She's beautiful," Loki said as he got his first up-close glimpse of Grace. "She looks like her mom." Loki watched as his simple comment caused Bethany to blush.
The child had dark-brown, short, curly hair and her chocolate brown eyes were as round as tea saucers. Her little button-nose and rosy cherubic cheeks made her look as if *she* was, in fact, an angel. Her tiny, yet bright smile lit up the room more brilliantly than the jealous sun.
"Thank you," Bethany replied as she ran her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Kirsten says Grace looks like me, too, but I don't know. I don't really have anyone else to compare her to, if you know what I mean."
Loki looked at Bethany and then at Grace again. "She does look like you . . . like a little 'Mini-You'. How old is she?"
"She's about nine months old now, but she acts more like she's fifteen sometimes. She's a handful, that's for sure."
Grace stirred and cooed in her mother's arms as if the child actually understood the conversation between the two adults. Then her tiny tea saucer shaped eyes wandered to the unmoving entity lying on the sofa. Her body seemed to freeze along with her gaze. Bethany noticed this peculiar action from her daughter and became slightly uneasy.
"Are you hungry, honey?" Bethany asked as she started towards the kitchen, consciously leading her daughter away from the sleeping Bartleby. The *sleeping* Bartleby. What harm could he do to her daughter while he was unconscious - *sleeping*? Anyway, Bethany felt more at ease when she entered the kitchen, leaving the living room behind her. But the fact that Grace's beautifully shimmering eyes never left the sight of Bartleby until he was no longer visible, didn't escape Bethany. In fact, Bethany was so caught up in the thought that she almost forgot Loki was in the house as well, until he followed her into the kitchen.
"He won't hurt her," Loki said softly, as if he was reading Bethany's thoughts.
Bethany gave Loki a quizzical look as if his statement came out of nowhere. "I know that," she announced, unconvincingly. "If I thought, for one second, that Bartleby would hurt any of us, I never would have brought him back to the house, now would I?" Bethany seemed to say the words to try and convince herself, more so than to convince Loki.
Loki nodded, more as a submission than an agreement. He watched as Bethany placed Grace into her highchair and tied a bib around the child's neck. Involuntarily, almost as if in a trance, Loki reached up and started to stroke the chain around his own neck.
Bethany watched him out of the corner of her eye, noticing his necklace for the first time.
"It's lovely," she said.
"What?" Loki asked as he snapped out of his daydream.
"Your necklace. It's lovely," Bethany repeated as she walked towards him to get a better look at the iridescent neckpiece.
The necklace didn't quite shimmer with the radiance of polished gold, but instead, its beauty lied in a seemingly quiet, aging, antique quality of the piece. The chain was short and draped just below Loki's chin. On the end of the chain hung a sun-shaped charm with scratches of insignificant markings, or at least writing that Bethany couldn't make out.
"Thanks," Loki muttered.
"Where did you get it?" she asked, still mesmerized by the necklace's timeless beauty.
"Dunno." Loki shrugged. "It was around my neck when I woke up from my, um, 'death' experience. I've never seen it before then."
Bethany touched the charm with her fingertip, almost expecting to feel some kind of warmth radiating from it. It felt normal; no warmth except that which came from Loki's body heat. "A gift, maybe?" she asked.
"Maybe. I don't know who would have given it to me, or why. At the time, I don't think I was worthy of any kind of gift. I was just lucky enough to be alive. But I kept it anyway. It wasn't hurting my image or anything - as if I even *have* an 'image'," he snorted.
"What does it say?" Bethany asked as she rubbed her finger over the slash marks engraved in the sunny shape.
"It's Aramaic. It says, 'In Darkness There Will Be Light'."
"What does that mean?"
"A sign? An omen? Words to live by? I don't know. I haven't the slightest idea what it means." Loki shrugged again.
They were both startled by Grace's heavy sigh. Bethany turned to her daughter and laughed. "Okay, I know. You're hungry. I get it. 'Stop looking at the jewelry, mom, and get me some food!'" Bethany chuckled again as she walked towards the refrigerator, mocking her daughter's impatient sigh.
Grace giggled. The child's infectious laugh caused Loki to muster a tiny grin, but his mind suddenly wondered about Bartleby again and he remembered why he followed Bethany into the kitchen in the first place. Bartleby needed him. "May I have a glass of ice water?" Loki asked.
Bethany was pulling a jug of milk out of the fridge as she smiled at Loki. "Are you sure you don't want another beer instead?" she joked.
"It's not for me. I'm going to try to get Bartleby to drink. He *is* human now, after all. I can't have him slowly withering away from dehydration." Loki smiled faintly, but his words were sternly serious.
Bethany's smile faded and she nodded, agreeing with Loki's idea. He had definitely changed since Bethany had last seen him; acting all paternal and thoughtful and mature. But then Bethany realized that she didn't really know the *real* Loki at all. Maybe he was always like this. Maybe she was just getting a glimpse of the real personality behind the guise of the 'Angel of Death' title he once boasted. Maybe she was seeing in Loki what Bartleby had always seen in him, and realized just why Loki and Bartleby were such good friends.
Bartleby. The Watcher. The Grigori. Did she really know *him* as well as she thought she did? Was he really the angry, vengeful angel hell-bent on destroying earth so he could make it back into heaven? That's not the person she talked to, not so long ago, on the night-train to New Jersey. The Bartleby she talked with then (back then she knew him as Barry) was considerate, a good listener, and he seemed to understand and empathize with her and her apparent loss of faith in God and the humility of being cast aside by someone she loved so dearly. He knew, all too well, what Bethany had been going through.
They made a connection that night. She and Bartleby were more alike than Bethany cared to admit. Like Bethany had been with her ex-husband, Bartleby was lost and afraid and confused and hurt by someone he loved. God. And that hurt turned into anger, anger so great, that he needed it to be purged while feeling justified and righteous by killing sinners. Bartleby was wrong in his actions, of course, but the more Bethany thought about it, the more she seemed to understand him.
And the more she understood why Loki was so quick to forgive him. The ruthless angel that terrorized a town of people in front of a Catholic Church in New Jersey wasn't the Bartleby that Loki knew and loved. Bartleby wasn't any more a cold-hearted killer than Loki was an Angel of Death. They were no longer angels at all. //God has a plan,// Bethany repeated in her mind. //God always has a plan.//
Bethany was startled back to reality when she heard Grace whimper. Bethany had been so deep in thought about Loki and Bartleby that she still hadn't begun to feed Grace breakfast. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she apologized. "Mommy's got a lot on her mind this morning. Breakfast is coming. It's coming."
It's coming.
^ ^ ^ ^
"C'mon, B. Wake up." Loki gently shook his comatose companion. "Please wake up," he pleaded again.
Loki had been in the living room for more than twenty minutes, trying in vain to wake his partner. The glass of ice water - pierced by a long pink straw - that Loki had brought from the kitchen was slowly sweating and leaving a nice water ring on the surface of the coffee table by the sofa. Loki was having a bit more trouble bringing Bartleby to consciousness than he originally anticipated. He didn't want to be rough in his attempt to awaken his friend, for Loki knew that Bartleby was hurt and that any type of movement may bring him pain. But he had to try.
"Dammit, Bartleby, it's me, Loki. I need to talk to you." Loki sighed heavily. "Wake up," he commanded with a little more intensity.
Bartleby stirred and moaned quietly.
Loki's spirits lifted. "That's it! C'mon, B," he coaxed.
Dreamily, Bartleby's eyes fluttered open. He focused on Loki with a glaze of confusion.
"Thank *God*!" Loki exclaimed with joyous relief. He held Bartleby's gaze until he was sure his friend was fully awake. "Are you with me, B?"
"I'm here." Bartleby's voice was scratchy and thick with sleep, but to Loki's ears, it sounded like choirs of angels in full song.
"How do you feel?"
"How do I look?"
"Like shit."
"That's how I feel."
Loki smiled warmly. He never thought that hearing Bartleby speak would bring him so much joy and relief. It was the first sign that Bartleby was going to be alright and the mere thought lifted the weight of the world from Loki's shoulders. "Here," Loki reached for the glass of water and brought the straw to Bartleby's lips. "Drink this."
Bartleby grimaced and turned his head away.
"Drink, Bartleby." The strictness in Loki's voice left no chance for an appeal and Bartleby felt too weak to fight him anyway. He took a few shallow sips of the cool liquid.
When he was finished, Bartleby took a look at his surroundings. "Where are we?"
"Bethany's house."
Suddenly, all the events of the fight in the alley came flooding back into Bartleby's mind. And he realized why he had awakened to immense pain. "Warlocks," he muttered with a tinge of disdain in his frail voice.
"That's what I figured, too. B, what were you thinking? Maybe as an angel, you could have disposed of those creeps but-"
"They were after the kid," Bartleby interrupted.
"The kid? You mean the last Scion? Grace?"
"Yeah."
"But, B, you shouldn't have tried to fight them on your own. They might have killed you."
"They *would* have killed her." Bartleby winced as if talking somehow hurt him. "Lucifer wants her."
"How do you know?"
"I know."
Although full of questions, Loki decided not to press the issue. He and Bartleby could chat more about the situation when his friend was feeling better. They had a *lot* more to discuss and, right now, Bartleby didn't look too thrilled to be hammered with any more questions.
Bethany came into the living room with Grace in her arms.
"How was breakfast?" Loki asked as he turned to face them.
"I wouldn't know. Grace ate it all." Bethany smiled. She saw that Bartleby was awake, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at Grace . . . and Grace was looking at him. Neither of them were smiling, or frowning, for that matter. Just looking. Just curious. Just . . . staring.
"Hello, Bartleby," Bethany greeted.
Bartleby focused his attention on Bethany. His gaze was compelling. Bethany felt as if she was being pulled forward, almost drowning in his eyes; his soft, weary, sad eyes. Why did his eyes seem so familiar? Sure, she had seen them before, but here, now, something was different, and yet the same. Bethany felt herself staring at Bartleby just as intently as Grace had been earlier.
"Hi," Bartleby replied drowsily. His gaze was steadily losing its power. They were going to lose him to sleep again. He blinked heavily.
Loki saw the tiredness in Bartleby's mannerisms and he almost felt guilty for forcing his companion from much needed rest. "We'll talk later," Loki assured as he pressed his palm gently against Bartleby's forehead. He still had a slight fever.
Bartleby's attention was still fixated on Bethany. And then, two simple words left his lips that caused a lump to rise in Bethany's throat.
"Thank you," he said gently.
She knew what his gratitude was referring to. She very well may have saved his life by bringing him back to her home and taking care of him. But she never would have been able to do any of it if Bartleby hadn't saved her and Grace first.
"No, thank *you*," Bethany replied as she watched Bartleby close his eyes once more.
And then Bethany looked at her daughter who was sitting quietly in her arms. Grace was still staring at Bartleby, but smiling vibrantly . . . possibly conveying her own "thank you".
^ ^ ^ ^
Bethany brought her little "bundle of joy" out of the nursery and into the living room. The child had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling from ear to ear. Apparently, Grace was just upset that she was not in the same room as the new company. Her eyes danced when she spotted Loki.
Loki smiled back. "Hello, little one." Bethany brought her daughter closer, obviously assured that Loki meant no harm to her daughter. "She's beautiful," Loki said as he got his first up-close glimpse of Grace. "She looks like her mom." Loki watched as his simple comment caused Bethany to blush.
The child had dark-brown, short, curly hair and her chocolate brown eyes were as round as tea saucers. Her little button-nose and rosy cherubic cheeks made her look as if *she* was, in fact, an angel. Her tiny, yet bright smile lit up the room more brilliantly than the jealous sun.
"Thank you," Bethany replied as she ran her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Kirsten says Grace looks like me, too, but I don't know. I don't really have anyone else to compare her to, if you know what I mean."
Loki looked at Bethany and then at Grace again. "She does look like you . . . like a little 'Mini-You'. How old is she?"
"She's about nine months old now, but she acts more like she's fifteen sometimes. She's a handful, that's for sure."
Grace stirred and cooed in her mother's arms as if the child actually understood the conversation between the two adults. Then her tiny tea saucer shaped eyes wandered to the unmoving entity lying on the sofa. Her body seemed to freeze along with her gaze. Bethany noticed this peculiar action from her daughter and became slightly uneasy.
"Are you hungry, honey?" Bethany asked as she started towards the kitchen, consciously leading her daughter away from the sleeping Bartleby. The *sleeping* Bartleby. What harm could he do to her daughter while he was unconscious - *sleeping*? Anyway, Bethany felt more at ease when she entered the kitchen, leaving the living room behind her. But the fact that Grace's beautifully shimmering eyes never left the sight of Bartleby until he was no longer visible, didn't escape Bethany. In fact, Bethany was so caught up in the thought that she almost forgot Loki was in the house as well, until he followed her into the kitchen.
"He won't hurt her," Loki said softly, as if he was reading Bethany's thoughts.
Bethany gave Loki a quizzical look as if his statement came out of nowhere. "I know that," she announced, unconvincingly. "If I thought, for one second, that Bartleby would hurt any of us, I never would have brought him back to the house, now would I?" Bethany seemed to say the words to try and convince herself, more so than to convince Loki.
Loki nodded, more as a submission than an agreement. He watched as Bethany placed Grace into her highchair and tied a bib around the child's neck. Involuntarily, almost as if in a trance, Loki reached up and started to stroke the chain around his own neck.
Bethany watched him out of the corner of her eye, noticing his necklace for the first time.
"It's lovely," she said.
"What?" Loki asked as he snapped out of his daydream.
"Your necklace. It's lovely," Bethany repeated as she walked towards him to get a better look at the iridescent neckpiece.
The necklace didn't quite shimmer with the radiance of polished gold, but instead, its beauty lied in a seemingly quiet, aging, antique quality of the piece. The chain was short and draped just below Loki's chin. On the end of the chain hung a sun-shaped charm with scratches of insignificant markings, or at least writing that Bethany couldn't make out.
"Thanks," Loki muttered.
"Where did you get it?" she asked, still mesmerized by the necklace's timeless beauty.
"Dunno." Loki shrugged. "It was around my neck when I woke up from my, um, 'death' experience. I've never seen it before then."
Bethany touched the charm with her fingertip, almost expecting to feel some kind of warmth radiating from it. It felt normal; no warmth except that which came from Loki's body heat. "A gift, maybe?" she asked.
"Maybe. I don't know who would have given it to me, or why. At the time, I don't think I was worthy of any kind of gift. I was just lucky enough to be alive. But I kept it anyway. It wasn't hurting my image or anything - as if I even *have* an 'image'," he snorted.
"What does it say?" Bethany asked as she rubbed her finger over the slash marks engraved in the sunny shape.
"It's Aramaic. It says, 'In Darkness There Will Be Light'."
"What does that mean?"
"A sign? An omen? Words to live by? I don't know. I haven't the slightest idea what it means." Loki shrugged again.
They were both startled by Grace's heavy sigh. Bethany turned to her daughter and laughed. "Okay, I know. You're hungry. I get it. 'Stop looking at the jewelry, mom, and get me some food!'" Bethany chuckled again as she walked towards the refrigerator, mocking her daughter's impatient sigh.
Grace giggled. The child's infectious laugh caused Loki to muster a tiny grin, but his mind suddenly wondered about Bartleby again and he remembered why he followed Bethany into the kitchen in the first place. Bartleby needed him. "May I have a glass of ice water?" Loki asked.
Bethany was pulling a jug of milk out of the fridge as she smiled at Loki. "Are you sure you don't want another beer instead?" she joked.
"It's not for me. I'm going to try to get Bartleby to drink. He *is* human now, after all. I can't have him slowly withering away from dehydration." Loki smiled faintly, but his words were sternly serious.
Bethany's smile faded and she nodded, agreeing with Loki's idea. He had definitely changed since Bethany had last seen him; acting all paternal and thoughtful and mature. But then Bethany realized that she didn't really know the *real* Loki at all. Maybe he was always like this. Maybe she was just getting a glimpse of the real personality behind the guise of the 'Angel of Death' title he once boasted. Maybe she was seeing in Loki what Bartleby had always seen in him, and realized just why Loki and Bartleby were such good friends.
Bartleby. The Watcher. The Grigori. Did she really know *him* as well as she thought she did? Was he really the angry, vengeful angel hell-bent on destroying earth so he could make it back into heaven? That's not the person she talked to, not so long ago, on the night-train to New Jersey. The Bartleby she talked with then (back then she knew him as Barry) was considerate, a good listener, and he seemed to understand and empathize with her and her apparent loss of faith in God and the humility of being cast aside by someone she loved so dearly. He knew, all too well, what Bethany had been going through.
They made a connection that night. She and Bartleby were more alike than Bethany cared to admit. Like Bethany had been with her ex-husband, Bartleby was lost and afraid and confused and hurt by someone he loved. God. And that hurt turned into anger, anger so great, that he needed it to be purged while feeling justified and righteous by killing sinners. Bartleby was wrong in his actions, of course, but the more Bethany thought about it, the more she seemed to understand him.
And the more she understood why Loki was so quick to forgive him. The ruthless angel that terrorized a town of people in front of a Catholic Church in New Jersey wasn't the Bartleby that Loki knew and loved. Bartleby wasn't any more a cold-hearted killer than Loki was an Angel of Death. They were no longer angels at all. //God has a plan,// Bethany repeated in her mind. //God always has a plan.//
Bethany was startled back to reality when she heard Grace whimper. Bethany had been so deep in thought about Loki and Bartleby that she still hadn't begun to feed Grace breakfast. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she apologized. "Mommy's got a lot on her mind this morning. Breakfast is coming. It's coming."
It's coming.
^ ^ ^ ^
"C'mon, B. Wake up." Loki gently shook his comatose companion. "Please wake up," he pleaded again.
Loki had been in the living room for more than twenty minutes, trying in vain to wake his partner. The glass of ice water - pierced by a long pink straw - that Loki had brought from the kitchen was slowly sweating and leaving a nice water ring on the surface of the coffee table by the sofa. Loki was having a bit more trouble bringing Bartleby to consciousness than he originally anticipated. He didn't want to be rough in his attempt to awaken his friend, for Loki knew that Bartleby was hurt and that any type of movement may bring him pain. But he had to try.
"Dammit, Bartleby, it's me, Loki. I need to talk to you." Loki sighed heavily. "Wake up," he commanded with a little more intensity.
Bartleby stirred and moaned quietly.
Loki's spirits lifted. "That's it! C'mon, B," he coaxed.
Dreamily, Bartleby's eyes fluttered open. He focused on Loki with a glaze of confusion.
"Thank *God*!" Loki exclaimed with joyous relief. He held Bartleby's gaze until he was sure his friend was fully awake. "Are you with me, B?"
"I'm here." Bartleby's voice was scratchy and thick with sleep, but to Loki's ears, it sounded like choirs of angels in full song.
"How do you feel?"
"How do I look?"
"Like shit."
"That's how I feel."
Loki smiled warmly. He never thought that hearing Bartleby speak would bring him so much joy and relief. It was the first sign that Bartleby was going to be alright and the mere thought lifted the weight of the world from Loki's shoulders. "Here," Loki reached for the glass of water and brought the straw to Bartleby's lips. "Drink this."
Bartleby grimaced and turned his head away.
"Drink, Bartleby." The strictness in Loki's voice left no chance for an appeal and Bartleby felt too weak to fight him anyway. He took a few shallow sips of the cool liquid.
When he was finished, Bartleby took a look at his surroundings. "Where are we?"
"Bethany's house."
Suddenly, all the events of the fight in the alley came flooding back into Bartleby's mind. And he realized why he had awakened to immense pain. "Warlocks," he muttered with a tinge of disdain in his frail voice.
"That's what I figured, too. B, what were you thinking? Maybe as an angel, you could have disposed of those creeps but-"
"They were after the kid," Bartleby interrupted.
"The kid? You mean the last Scion? Grace?"
"Yeah."
"But, B, you shouldn't have tried to fight them on your own. They might have killed you."
"They *would* have killed her." Bartleby winced as if talking somehow hurt him. "Lucifer wants her."
"How do you know?"
"I know."
Although full of questions, Loki decided not to press the issue. He and Bartleby could chat more about the situation when his friend was feeling better. They had a *lot* more to discuss and, right now, Bartleby didn't look too thrilled to be hammered with any more questions.
Bethany came into the living room with Grace in her arms.
"How was breakfast?" Loki asked as he turned to face them.
"I wouldn't know. Grace ate it all." Bethany smiled. She saw that Bartleby was awake, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at Grace . . . and Grace was looking at him. Neither of them were smiling, or frowning, for that matter. Just looking. Just curious. Just . . . staring.
"Hello, Bartleby," Bethany greeted.
Bartleby focused his attention on Bethany. His gaze was compelling. Bethany felt as if she was being pulled forward, almost drowning in his eyes; his soft, weary, sad eyes. Why did his eyes seem so familiar? Sure, she had seen them before, but here, now, something was different, and yet the same. Bethany felt herself staring at Bartleby just as intently as Grace had been earlier.
"Hi," Bartleby replied drowsily. His gaze was steadily losing its power. They were going to lose him to sleep again. He blinked heavily.
Loki saw the tiredness in Bartleby's mannerisms and he almost felt guilty for forcing his companion from much needed rest. "We'll talk later," Loki assured as he pressed his palm gently against Bartleby's forehead. He still had a slight fever.
Bartleby's attention was still fixated on Bethany. And then, two simple words left his lips that caused a lump to rise in Bethany's throat.
"Thank you," he said gently.
She knew what his gratitude was referring to. She very well may have saved his life by bringing him back to her home and taking care of him. But she never would have been able to do any of it if Bartleby hadn't saved her and Grace first.
"No, thank *you*," Bethany replied as she watched Bartleby close his eyes once more.
And then Bethany looked at her daughter who was sitting quietly in her arms. Grace was still staring at Bartleby, but smiling vibrantly . . . possibly conveying her own "thank you".
^ ^ ^ ^