Hela woke to the early sun in her eyes. An ungodly hour, really, and not nearly enough sleep. But she hauled herself up and crawled into the front seat and pulled back onto the highway to finish the last few hours of their drive. About an hour later, the boys woke up and made a halfhearted attempt at packing up their stuff. They all smelled a little, but at least nobody had thrown up.

Loki and Thor stared at the highest point in Iowa as they drove past it. They stopped once to give Fenris a runaround and fill gas yet again, then pushed through the last few hours of driving, watching the landscape turn from fields to tree-dotted suburbs to cityscape. After fighting traffic for a little while, they turned into an upscale neighborhood where the houses had big, pristine yards and lush trees and big front porches.

There was so much grass. And not a palm tree in sight.

Their mobile monstrosity didn't exactly match the upscale aesthetic. She hoped Frigga was prepared for weird looks and nosy questions from the neighbors. If Mrs. Lars still lived across the street with her flat-faced pug, the police would probably be called by day's end. Mrs. Lars, gotta protect the neighborhood from spray-paint harbingers of doom. Hela pursed her lips. Maybe she'd go buy a pack of cigarettes and throw the butts on her lawn for old time's sake.

As Hela pulled into the driveway of a big yellow house with white trim and a front yard full of plants. Loki sat bolt upright and plastered his face to the window, visibly shaking

"Take a deep breath, kid, before you pass out."

Loki just unbuckled his seat belt and rocked in his seat. Thor shoved forward, his shoulders caught on the seats, and he leaned on the horn. Beeeeeeeeeee—

Hela shot him an exasperated look. "Come on, man."

He threw her a shit-eating grin and eased off the horn.

"You're lucky we're here." Hela threw the van into park.

The front door flew open, and out came Frigga. Thor threw open the side van, and the two boys burst from the vehicle screaming, "MOM!"

Frigga ran down the sidewalk and caught the boys in her arms, staggering back from the force of impact. She held them close and showered them in kisses. Barking, Fenris bounded around them. Hela felt the tension drain out her shoulders at the sight of her stepmom holding the boys. Finally, a qualified adult to hand this disaster off to.

She climbed out of the van and threw open the back to grab bags. Then she trudged up the walk, a couple of poorly packed duffel bags in hand. She could do laundry, take a hot shower. She hadn't felt clean in what must have been a thousand years, and honestly, it was disgusting. At least nobody had thrown up during the trip, eating in roadside diners and out of sketchy gas stations. Oh, they had dodged a bullet there, and she hadn't realized it until now.

Frigga looked up from the boys, and her wide smile and crinkling eyes fell on Hela. "Helen!"

"Frigga, thank God."

Her step-mother let the boys go and took Hela into a crushing hug. Surprised, Hela took it like a wooden board, but Frigga didn't seem to mind. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome."

The older woman released her from the hug and leaned back, and Hela could see the soft grey about Frigga's temples, hidden in the blonde, and such a genuine light in her eyes that it caught the younger woman off guard.

"Come in. Come in." Frigga took the duffel bag from Hela's hands and headed for the front door. "You must all be exhausted."

Loki and Thor hovered around their mother, talking over top of each other and jostling each other like puppies as they followed her up the front steps. She put her arms around their shoulders and laughed and kissed them atop their greasy crowns, and Hela trailed a few paces behind.

Inside, the front hall was pretty much what she remembered—dark wood, bright crisp paint that looked recently done, not a coat off its hook or shoe out of place. She did wonder Frigga had always been a stress cleaner, and she'd had some late nights in the past couple weeks, so of course it was spotless. But if her apartment and van were any indication, it wasn't going to stay spotless much longer. Though, compared to her apartment, the house was massive—maybe it would last longer.

To the right, the kitchen and dining room, to the left the living room, all equally immaculate and open and bright. Even with that big fireplace, this place had to be a pain to heat in the winter. All those windows. The walls were a different shade of brown though, and the hole under the window she'd put there in a heated fight three years ago was gone.

Hela dropped her duffel bags on the ground, and Fenris zoomed past her into the house, nails clicking on the floorboards. She groaned. "Fenris! Come."

He whizzed past, and she grabbed at him, but his fur slipped between her fingers and he disappeared on another lap around the house like a creature possessed.

"Fenris!"

"It's all right," said Frigga. "I have two boys; there's nothing in reach he can break too badly." She ushered the boys inside and shut the door. "Please, come in, sit down. Boys, are you hungry? Helen?"

"I'm starving," Thor said. He kicked off his shoes and bee-lined for the kitchen.

Hela peeled off her boots—they felt half-grafted to her socks, and she peeled those off too. Disgusting.

She followed Loki and Frigga into the kitchen where Thor was halfway in the fridge.

Hela looked around. The kitchen had been repainted a calming shade of blue and the cabinets re-stained, but it was mostly the same as when she'd moved out. She pulled out a bar stool and propped her elbows on the island but didn't sit down. "See you replaced the screen door."

Frigga smiled. "Well, it got a lot of use."

A kind way of saying it had been banging and slammed so many times that it had holes in the wire mesh.

"This one's nicer."

"Thank you. Do you want to sit down? You must be exhausted."

"Thanks, but I never want to sit down again."

Frigga laughed, nudged her eldest son aside, and produced some Tupperware out of the fridge and then some plates and forks from the cabinets. "I made lasagna last night." She gestured to the stairs. "If you want to sleep, your old room is open. Loki told me you were driving pretty late."

"Actually, sleep sounds fantastic." Hela slid the bar stool back in and headed to the front door to grab some more bags from the van, but Frigga called out from the kitchen, "No, no. You rest, and the boys and I will bring the bags in. I'll bring your things up to your room in a little bit."

Hela pursed her lips and bobbed her head a little awkwardly. "All right. I'll see you I while, I guess."

Hela tramped upstairs—stairs where the third step from the top didn't squeak anymore—and she turned down a hall full of gold-framed photos. Hung on the walls were all the pictures she had ignored. Glossy photos of family vacations, Thor in hockey gear, Loki with a spelling bee ribbon. Thor with a science project, Loki riding on Odin's shoulders in some city Hela didn't recognize. Odin, Frigga, and the boys all in life vests and smiling in front of a lake.

There were so many different places in the photos, more and more grey on the parents' heads. They had lived an entire life. They looked happy.

She shuffled past them. The first door on her left was a bathroom, clean and white and brown. Thank God, she couldn't wait to shower. Then she reached the second door on her left and pushed it open.

Inside was a guest room, clean and square and bright. Gone were the dark green walls of her high school years, replaced by a lighter, gentler green. Nature paintings had replaced the rock band posters and poorly done graffiti, and the black, wadded-up bedspread was now a soft grey that matched half-drawn curtains, and on the nightstand stood a vase with a single fresh chrysanthemum that hadn't dropped any petals yet. The grey carpet even looked freshly vacuumed. Clearly the woman downstairs had been prepared for their arrival, stressed out of her mind.

Hela nudged the door closed behind her. It was odd, seeing her old room done over, but she was too tired to be too sentimental or to wonder what had happened to the few things she'd left behind in her whirlwind move out or to decide if she even wanted any of it.

Instead, Hela tugged the curtains shut against the bright sun, peeled off her shoes and socks, and fell face first onto the bed.

She woke up to a dim room, and she rolled over and grabbed the clock off the nightstand.

7:18

Not exactly a nap. Hela set the clock down and sat up, feet on the carpet as she rubbed her eyes. She didn't feel super well rested, but at least she hadn't been sleeping in the back of a van in somebody's cornfield.

On the chair across the room lay a pile of folded clothes. Her clothes. Frowning, she got to her feet and picked up the top shirt. It was faintly warm, and when she held it to her nose it smelled like lavender. Frigga must have washed them while Hela was dead to the world.

She slid into clean clothes, checked her phones for messages, answered a couple of texts, and wandered downstairs in her bare feet.

In the living room, the TV was on, and Frigga and the boys were on the couch in a sea of blankets and sweats. Loki sprawled on the couch with his head on his mom's knee while she absently ran her fingers through his hair. Thor sat on her other side, not quite as close, but still sharing the same massive microfleece blanket. On the coffee table lay the remains of dinner—bits of meatloaf and mashed potatoes and bits of green veggies—and at their feet curled Fenris.

They looked so comfortable, like the rest of the world had fallen asleep around them and left a quiet space lit only by the blue glow of Mission Impossible movie. They looked content.

Hela paused in the doorway, reluctant to butt in. Instead, she snuck to the kitchen and dished herself some food from what was left on the counter. Frigga must not have wanted to wake her up, and she was grateful if still a little groggy.

She headed back for the stairs, but as she passed the living room, Frigga caught sight of her and waved. "Do you want to join us, Hela?"

She raised an eyebrow at her stepmother. "Hela?"

"The boys told you me you prefer that now. They've been talking nonstop since you arrived."

Her sons must have worn themselves out because they lounged on the couch in relative silence.

"I do, thanks." Hela made her way to a plush chair and settled in.

Thor chucked a blanket at her. "Helen sounds like a lame aunt."

"They call her Old Hell or High Water at work," Loki said. Maybe not so subdued.

Frigga looked down at him in surprise, but Hela snorted and took a bite of potatoes instead of answering. Fenris shuffled over to Hela's bare feet, and his body heat and fur engulfed her shins.

They watched TV movies until well into the night. Frigga dished everyone ice cream, and even Fenris got a little paper bowl of whipped cream. Hela caught herself zoning out around nine o'clock only to start awake and bump her dog in the ribs. He huffed but didn't get up, probably deep in dreams of rabbits and LA dog parks.

On the couch, Thor and Loki were fast asleep and snoring lightly, and Frigga was leaned back in the couch, her hands rested on her sons' shoulders as if to keep them in place. Rubbing her eyes, Hela eased her feet free of their canine shackles. Then she turned off the TV and walked through the first floor turning off all the lights except the front hall so they would have enough light to find their way to bed if they woke up at all. Then she and Fenris made their way upstairs where Hela showered and finally washed her hair, stealing a little of Frigga's shampoo because she sure wasn't going to go digging through her bags tonight.

Hot water. Finally. The Minnesota groundwater was softer than LA's pipes.

After putting on pajamas for the first time in what felt like a thousand years, Hela crawled into bed and let Fenris curl up at her feet.