Chapter 5: Aftermath

Ciara wasn't sure how long she stayed on the cold, hard ground. Her entire body felt weak, weaker than she'd felt in a long time, and a cold feeling had set in her stomach as Odin cradled the bloody, lifeless body of his wife. Thor had given a yell so loud it seemed to shake the room, and Jane stood nearby, unsure if she should approach him. He hadn't even seemed to notice the sparks that flew from his fingers.

"Come on, let's get you to the Healing Rooms," a gentle voice in Ciara's ear made her blink, and she allowed Fandral to help her to her feet. Her knife clattered to the ground, and she flinched at the metal sound that echoed through the room. She grunted when her legs gave out, before the Asgardian lifted her up into his arms properly, carrying her along.

Fandral looked down at the young woman in his arms, who looked even smaller than ever. The shock of everything seemed to have frozen her in place, as she didn't even react to him carrying her. Any other time, she'd have tried to throw herself out of his arms, threatening to stab him for it. Her clothes were soaked in the black blood of the Dark Elves, telling him immediately that she'd been involved in the fray, and two burns were oozing, finally having stopped bleeding. She didn't speak, and barely reacted when he'd lifted her. It was only when he set her down in a chair and stepped back for a healer to check her injuries, did Ciara finally seem to stir.

"Any other injuries?" the healer asked, barely audible over the chaos of the Healing Rooms. Fandral was surprised they'd even spared the trainee to help Ciara, when they seemed so spread thin. Almost every guard involved in the fight was sporting some kind of injury, and the most experienced healers had gone to the battlefield to tend to those so badly injured they couldn't move.

"No," Ciara muttered, staring blankly as the healer tended to the burns, wrapping them tightly, before checking the purple bruise across her temple. As soon as she was finished spreading a salve across it, she was gone, checking on another with minor injuries.

"Was that the first time you've taken a life?" Fandral asked the question burning in his mind. He'd seen her fighting off the prisoners, never going further than knocking them unconscious. And he'd helped to train her, of course. It didn't seem like someone so frail could kill someone.

"No," Ciara repeated, still not looking up as she pulled her legs close to her body. "Helped kill Chitauri on Earth, when the portal opened. I…" she took a breath, trying not to look at her hands, which were covered in dried blood. "I can't say it was different, but…" she trailed off, not wanting to voice the thought aloud. She'd used the Chiauri's weapons against them. It was long-distance. It felt completely different to wedging a knife in their vital spots and letting them bleed out.

Fandral's hand landed on her head. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to her. He had a soft spot for the young woman, even if he was told repeatedly that she couldn't be trusted. 'You're a bleeding heart, you old fool,' he scolded himself, watching as Ciara took several, deep gulps of air. She was trying to hold it together.

"And seeing someone die?" he asked, and a vision of the Dark Elf plunging his blade into Frigga's chest was replaced with the memory of Loki stabbing Coulson in the back.

"Stop it," Ciara shoved his hand away, but it was too late. The wall had come down, and the emotions flooded out. Fat tears ran down her face, streaking through the blood and dirt. "I don't need your damn pity. Thor's your friend. Go comfort him," she spat, making the warrior sigh.

"You can't keep pushing everyone away forever," he warned.

"You'll find something, or someone, soon enough. Someone you can put your trust in," Coulson's words to Ciara echoed in her memory and she cursed, burying her face in her knees in an attempt to stop herself from screaming. It wasn't her first kill. She'd hardly even known Frigga. She'd been nice to her, making sure she was taken care of when she'd been stranded on Asgard with only those who treated her with distrust, knowing that she'd sided with Loki against Thor.

So why did her chest hurt so much?

"Fandral!" the blond Asgardian turned as he heard Sif's stern voice. She indicated for him to go with her, but he hesitated, looking down at Ciara. The speedster had also reacted to the voice, lifting her head. Her eyes were red, and the tears kept coming, but she didn't hide her face from either of them.

"Go. Those prisoners won't put themselves back in their cells," Ciara muttered, her voice shaky and quiet, sliding down from the chair. Her breath kept catching in little hiccups. She met Fandral's bright eyes, hating the concern she saw in them. 'That should be for Thor, not me,' Ciara told herself, and took a deep breath. Tears welled up in her eyes again when she did, but she wiped them away with the back of her hand, smearing blood across her face.

"Fandral, we must go," Sif warned him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Of course," Fandral nodded, but stopped when he heard Ciara say his name quietly. He turned back to her, and found her stubbornly refusing to look at him.

"Thanks. I mean it," she said, so softly he could barely hear her. He managed a small smile despite his own hurt, and nodded before turning and walking away. As he left, Ciara took another deep breath, looking up in hopes that it would stop her crying.

"Excuse me," a healer rushed past her, almost knocking Ciara off her feet. Ciara turned, immediately about to bark an insult at her, but stopped.

"As chaotic as New York," she said to herself, as the healers rushing around shouting reminded her of the crowds she was so used to slipping through. And right at that moment, she hated it. Deciding that she didn't really care who saw her, Ciara vanished in a flash of blue, using the powers of the Tesseract to step through space.

Her room was quiet and empty, just as she'd hoped. Ciara figured that Astrid was off helping elsewhere. At least, she hoped she was, and hadn't gotten caught up in the bloodbath that had taken place. Dismissing those thoughts as they stabbed at her gut, Ciara started to pull off her clothes as she made for the bathroom, tossing them into a pile of bloody, ruined cloth that Ciara could already hear Astrid complaining about. She slowly removed the dressings that the healer had wrapped around her arm and side, making a mental note to reapply them once she was done.

For once, as she waited for the hot water to fill the massive baths, Ciara didn't find herself buzzing with impatience. Exhaustion seemed to sink through into her bones, and she sank to the ground, barely feeling the cold against her bare skin.

"Shit," Ciara swore. "Am I really so tragic that I get attached to anyone who shows me a tiny bit of care?" she asked herself aloud, and a hysterical laugh escaped her. "A quack would have a field day with me. Poor little Ciara, the monster experimented on by her father, the mutant terror who spent years with people who'd rather die than show they actually care," she laughed again, before standing suddenly and throwing a punch at a rapid speed.

Pain exploded in her knuckles, and Ciara bit back her screaming curse as she pulled her hand away from the crack in the wall. "Stupid, stupid," she berated herself, examining her aching hand. She flexed it, and flinched. "You should be broken. It's what I deserve," Ciara told her hand, as if it was in the wrong for not breaking. Her knuckles were scraped and bloody, and her hand sang with pain that made her flinch if she moved it, but she just rolled her eyes. "I really am the biggest idiot on this goddamn planet," she declared.

Finally the bath was filled, and Ciara sank into the water with a groan. Her tense muscles were forced to relax, and she dunked her head under the water, letting her hair soak to free it of the blood dried and matting it. Her side and arm stung, just like her hand, as they came into contact with the water, but the pain helped Ciara's head clear. "This isn't over," Ciara murmured to herself as she looked up at the tiled ceiling above her.

'The timing is just too perfect. Dark Elves invading Asgard, right after Jane shows up with the Aether? They want it,' Ciara thought to herself, brow furrowing in thought. 'And there's no way Thor will let them get her. And he definitely won't let them get away with killing-' Ciara's eyes immediately filled with tears. The water splashed as she moved rapidly, wiping them away.

"I don't care if I'm supposed to stay away from the other Stones. I'm going to help them," Ciara declared out loud this time. And for once, the first thought that crossed her mind about it wasn't how fun it would be. They'd tried to kill her too, and she didn't take kindly to that.

Ciara sank back into the water, laughing. "God, if the me from right before I came here could see me now. I don't know if she'd be disgusted or entertained," she murmured, finding the thought entertaining. However, the traces of a smile faded when another thought came to mind. "Loki…" Ciara thought about the God of Mischief. Frigga herself had admitted to Ciara that she would sneak in to visit him too. And Ciara knew that the books had to be getting to him somehow. "Maybe I should - no," Ciara immediately dismissed the idea, and slid further down into the water. "Why am I thinking of him?" she wondered, slipping far enough under the water to blow bubbles with her nose. Her grief made way for anger. The Dark Elves hadn't just made themselves enemies of Asgard. They'd made themselves enemies with her.

And they'd regret it.

The funeral for Frigga, and for all the lives lost that day, took place when night fell. Ciara hadn't expected it to be so sudden, nor did she expect the stranger at the door of her bedroom.

"Uh, hi?" Ciara frowned, in the middle of trying to redress her wound. The woman who didn't look much older than Ciara closed the door behind her, bowing politely. Her black hair was pinned back in a bun, but was coming loose, not that Ciara cared.

"Allow me to help with that," the woman's green eyes were puffy from crying, which made sense. Everyone loved Frigga, and the guards had families and friends of their own. Ciara wasn't surprised that she couldn't hide her grief.

"Whoa!" the woman's warm hands brushed her side, and Ciara jumped away from her. Immediately the pain burned through her, and Ciara staggered, barely able to catch herself. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice croaking from the pain.

"Oh Gods, I'm so sorry," the woman was flustered, and immediately started to cry again. "I was sent here to help you. Before the funeral," she explained, and Ciara frowned.

"But Astrid-" she stopped abruptly when she saw the woman's face twist in pain, and a weight settled in her chest. "Oh," Ciara said, and flinched at how pathetic that sounded.

"She was...in - in part of the palace that… that collapsed," the woman was crying fully now, her body wracked with sobs, but Ciara could barely even register it. She just stared at a space on the ground, stunned at the news.

Astrid. The one always fussing over her, making her wear pretty dresses and ensuring that she remembered to eat and get out of her room once in a while. Astrid. Someone that, under different circumstances - if Ciara was more willing to let someone in, if Astrid wasn't reporting her every move to the higher ups - would have been her friend.

"Dammit," Ciara sank to the ground, digging her fingers into her side. Pain sang through her as she dug into the wound burned through her side. "Dammit," she repeated as the pain stopped her from entirely breaking down.

"Your wounds!" the woman gasped, rushing over and forcing her hand away. "Please. Let me. Astrid would be furious with me if I didn't...didn't…" she choked on the words, and Ciara looked up at her. She didn't seem much older than Astrid. Of course, looks were incredibly deceiving on Asgard.

"You were friends," she guessed, and the woman nodded, sniffing. She gasped, eyes flying open, when Ciara pulled her into her arms. She tried not to make a comment on hugging the woman while half-naked, and instead let her cry as her anger grew.

After Ciara had managed to calm down the woman - Revna, she'd managed to get her name out at least - enough to allow her to get ready, the two had joined the rest of Asgard for the funeral.

Despite the entirety of Asgard being gathered, it was eerily quiet, save for the weeping of those who couldn't hold it in for long. Revna was one of those people, and kept her hand tightly around Ciara's. The speedster let her, watching as people collected orbs for the people they'd lost in the attack.

It wasn't just guards who had lost their lives. People going about their daily lives, never expecting to see death and destruction, had seen exactly that when the Dark Elves had flown through Asgard in their ships, smashing through anything in their way. Buildings had collapsed as the airships smashed through them, killing people trying to shelter from the attack.

The funeral was beautiful, and if she hadn't been filled with her own grief, Ciara would have been awestruck as they let Frigga's body sail down the waters towards the edge. Nearby, she saw Jane close to Thor, keeping her hand in his as she seemed to serve as an anchor to stop him from losing it. Her own expression was filled with sadness, but it was more for the man she cared for. Part of her blamed herself for going along with what Frigga had told her to do, not knowing that it would cost her her life. Thor had told her that it wasn't her fault, but the thought hadn't quite shifted yet.

She doubted it ever would.

A flaming arrow flew overhead and struck the boat, sending it up in flames. Then the rain of flaming arrows sailed, each striking a boat that carried a fallen Asgardian.

When Odin's spear slammed against the ground, the noise reverberated through everyone there. Frigga's body had reached the edge of the world, and before it could drop over the edge, the body vanished into a cluster of lights, floating off into the star-filled sky. Tears stung at Ciara's eyes again, but she refused to let them fall.

"Astrid," Revna whispered the name of her fallen friend, finally releasing Ciara's hand to raise the glowing orb in her hands. It floated up as more lit up all around them, as the people who had lost their loved ones released orbs too, letting the sky fill with lights.

Not for the first time, Ciara thought about the chaos of New York, when the portal had opened and the Chitauri had invaded. People had died.

"This is your fault!" Penelope's scream echoed in Ciara's mind as she stayed crouched over the body of the man who had spent a year trying to catch Ciara. She wasn't oblivious, nor was she so arrogant that she didn't think it was her fault. She'd helped Loki. She was just as responsible for what happened on Earth. Fandral had asked her if it was the first time she'd taken a life, when she'd killed the Dark Elves. She'd only focused on the Chitauri, those who she had killed directly.

Anyone who died in New York, their blood was on her hands. She hadn't been the one to kill them, but indirectly, she couldn't claim she didn't have a part to play in it.

For months now, Ciara had only managed to convince herself that if she had been the one to die, nobody would have cared. Just another dead mutant. One less monster to worry about. There wasn't enough room on Earth for both humans and mutants, according to them. So why should she care about them?

But now, as she watched the people mourn their losses on Asgard, that box she'd sealed any other thoughts about it in was beginning to crumble. Ciara shook her head, refusing to let it break open. Instead, she focused on the lights that shone overhead, floating farther and farther away. She wasn't sure how long she stayed there, staring up as the lights joined the stars and became too hard to distinguish, but most of the crowds had started to shuffle away.

"Ciara," she finally looked away when she heard Thor call her name. She turned to the God of Thunder, who looked grim. She met his blue eyes with a steady look of her own, and Jane looked from her back to Thor as something unspoken passed between the two. Finally, Ciara nodded, and turned away, walking off back towards the palace, before vanishing.

"Thor?" Jane took his hand again, worried for the man. He managed a small smile down at her.

"Do not worry. We'll work this out," Thor soothed, and despite the hopelessness of everything, Jane couldn't help but believe his words. He wouldn't let her down, and she wasn't about to drag him down.

Ciara's language got a lot ruder as this story went along. She gets real swear-y.

This was a real grim chapter to write, I have to admit.

Please review!